Four years.

It was an impulse buy; not a habit we entertain on any kind of regular basis. I was vulnerable. It was a bad day, like I-skipped-class-to-lay-in-the-office-floor-while-holding-my-childhood-blanket-and-listen-to-ballads kind of bad day.

Chandler called to let me know he was heading home, but wanted to go to Elizabethtown. What did I have to lose? I said okay.

We pulled into the driveway and rang the doorbell. I can still remember what the house looked like and the big chain-link fenced in kennel in the backyard, separated into three compartments: one for the male, and one each for the females and their respective litters.

The owner opened the left-most kennel and six of the cutest, grayest puppies clambered out, nipping at each other and eager to explore. It was kind of love at first sight.

We had actually talked about this purchase for the whole three months of our marriage, but could not agree on exactly what we wanted. I caved; Chandler won and here we were "checking out" this litter of Weimaraners, writing the check and taking the biggest one home with us just a half hour later.

Impulsive, I tell you.

I immediately named him Atticus and carried him in my lap all the way back to Lexington. We took pictures and I called my mom to stop by her office on our way in.

I remember Mom laughing because he peed like a girl, squatting in the grass. That's just what all puppies do, I told her. From there we took Atticus to the vet. Dr. Gilpin kept referring to him as a female while Chandler and I exchanged glances, but were too embarrassed to say anything.

Yeah, Atticus wasn't a boy. She was a girl. Fenway.

It's Chandler's fault. He was the one who looked before we picked her. I still bring it up every once in a while for a good chuckle.

All was well and exciting until it hit me that we were actually raising a living, breathing animal and I had never had such a responsibility before. I call it "post-partum" what I experienced over the next couple of days. Not to make light of the real-life disorder, but I was a little depressed and I did cry over this decision we had made to take a 2 month old puppy into our family.  Chandler gave me the option of taking her back, but one look at the pads of her paws, callused from the cement slab in her kennel, and I just couldn't do it. I knew I had to suck it up.

But we fell into a routine and things got easier. She became less of a burden and more a member of the family. We started taking her places where she could run and be around other dogs. I remember we took her to Chandler's Grammy's house and she fell in the small pond in their front yard.

That was a good laugh.

Before she got old enough to shed her "puppy smell", she would lay on our bed, right between us stretched out as long as possible from the head to the foot of the bed. We didn't let her do this very often.

Then, in 2009, I got pregnant with Waverly and finished school in December. From January 2010 until Waverly was born in March, Fen and I were the very best friends. Well, I mean, I talked to her all the time because, really, she was the only being I spent time with every day.

We were worried about how Fenway would receive Waverly, so Chandler gave Fen one of Waverly's hospital blankets to snuggle with before we came home. And the afternoon we walked into the house, Fenway was so excited. She wanted to be in Waverly's face all of the time; hence the common phrase, "Fenway, go!"

One of Waverly's first words? "Go go" and she has called Fenway by this nickname ever since.

They've really not had much to do with each other the past couple of years, but Waverly asks about her and tries to involve Fenway in her play.

I am desperately trying to hold on to these sweet memories, since we will be saying good bye to Fenway on Friday as she goes to her new home.

It's the first big "letting go" in this process. Pray for us.