I visited our local shelter in Colorado, not really looking for a dog. Then I saw a scared little eight-pound boy being carried back to his kennel.

His brother had just been adopted. He hadn’t.

His name was Snuggles. He was all black, with a white heart on his chest. I had to have him.

I called my husband and asked him to stop by after work. He did—and reluctantly said okay.

But when I filled out the application, I learned someone else was taking Snuggles home. I was devastated.

The next day, the shelter called. The adopters’ landlord didn’t allow dogs, and Snuggles had been returned.

I hurried back, and we brought my beloved little boy home.

I bought him a stuffed cow that came home with him, too. His love for cows

grew, and before long, he had a whole herd of stuffed cows

I had all kinds of names picked out, but my husband—a HUGE Denver Broncos fan

said he was as handsome as Champ Bailey, our favorite player at the time.

And that’s how Snuggles became Champ also known as Champy, Champster, and Champmaster.

Our dog Bella had a hard time with the new arrival, but eventually

they became fast friends.

We soon discovered Champy had mange and other health issues.

But he was my boy, and I was going to do whatever it took to help him get well.

And I did.

Champy was always a nervous dog. He trusted me and my family, but wasn’t comfortable with anyone else. He was quiet and, for the most part,

acted oddly grown up.

He was difficult to train and hated going out in public. His favorite place

was on my lap while we rocked.

During the day, he claimed a spot by the window. I dragged an ottoman over

so he could see out.

His body grew, his legs did not.

Now, through Tails From the Ranch, my quiet, short-legged companion gets to

be a storybook cowboy. And I get to share a little of him with you.