I'm an only child, as is my dad and grandfather, I'm the last of my family line. In the 1960s, my mom and dad and I lived with my dad's parents (my grandparents) until I was 9 years old. With my mom and dad both working, and me going to an excellent private school from 3½ years old (Pre-K) to 13 (8th grade) it was cool having an extended family under one roof.
The point to all that is when I was a baby, my grandfather got a male black and tan Doberman puppy with a championship bloodline over 2 pages long. His ancestors were ALL champions, so not only was "Count" an exceptional example of a large male Doberman, but extremely well trained, and with me being the only child, I learned from infancy what kind of bond, the special relationship a person and a dog could have as we grew up together.
I only wish I would have spent more time with Count, but we had 9 years together.
In 1990, I helped a coworker who had a Lab puppy, but neither he nor his family had ANY real or good experience with dogs, much less dealing with the energy level, innate drive "to do", or mischievous nature of a Lab puppy, I helped him every time he had problems or questions about what to get, do, manage all the facets of his puppy. He was WAY over his head. To indicate how disconnected he and his puppy were, he decided to move to an apartment that didn't allow pets, but I was renting a small house with a yard and a ballpark next door. When Bud was about 5 months old, my coworker gave him to me, and being single, I spent almost all my off time with Bud. He was a fast learner, and I was absolutely bound to that dog. Bud was just what I needed right when I needed him, and when my dirt nap comes, Bud's ashes in his Oak Urn are going in my coffin with me.
Truly one of the definitive examples of how interwoven 2 living beings can be, and I only wish I was as good a person as he treated me like I was.