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A year and a half ago, my family and I took turns reading the book "Marley and Me" by John Grogan. We enjoyed reading about the crazy antics of Marley, dubbed by Grogan "the world's worst dog."

When we heard a movie was being planned, we knew we'd have to take time to see it once it came out.

A big part of the draw was how much we could relate to the topic. There have been times we could have challenged Grogan's assessment about his dog being the worst compared to our first dog, Scotty.

Like the Grogans, my husband and I started our parenting career with a cute little light brown puppy. We had a cocker spaniel, while the Grogans chose a yellow Lab.

We chose Scotty from among his brothers and sisters one Sunday afternoon in May 1989.

As puppies accustomed to being with the rest of their families, Marley and Scotty both cried at night. Like Grogan, we soon moved our puppy's box into our bedroom, hoping to ease his adjustment into our lives and get some sleep.

Marley excessively chewed on anything he came in contact with. This reminded us of Scotty, who tried out those sharp puppy teeth on anything and everything he could find.

Returning home from work one day, I discovered the destruction left behind by a very restless puppy. Scotty had eaten through the plastic cords of the baby gate that blocked his way from the kitchen to the rest of the house.

After pushing his tiny body through the newly formed hole, Scotty proceeded to take the stuffed animals I had collected in my youth and young adulthood off a low shelf and chew their noses off one by one.

A yarn cat my sister gave me for Christmas when I was 16 was among the casualties, becoming a clump of wet yarn.

A few months later, in the middle of the night, I woke up to a chewing sound next to the bed. Scotty had removed a plastic canvas ornament from the Christmas tree we had put up the night before and was devouring it as sugar plums danced in our heads.

In another scene, Marley takes off with a new necklace Grogan has just given his wife after finding out she is expecting a baby. Marley ends up swallowing it.

Scotty didn't swallow a necklace, but he once devoured a wooden ice-cream spoon.

On a drive with my husband one mild day, I had been feeding young Scotty a cup of vanilla ice cream.

In a moment of excitement over the treat, Scotty devoured not only the ice cream, but the wooden spoon, too.

Horrified, we called the vet as soon as we got home.

We were told what to look for in the way of danger signs of an obstruction but that it would probably come back up or pass. Two days later, I returned home from work to find the wooden spoon on the living room carpet.

We vowed never to feed Scotty ice cream like that again.

Like Marley, Scotty seemed to embrace life and love with overexcitement to those he came in contact with.

Scotty made our guests feel welcomed in our home in his own special way: He would run and bounce over everyone's lap at least once, if not a couple of times.

Scotty also loved to run back and forth throughout the house, slamming his body into the sliding glass doors in the kitchen, running into the front door of the living room right before cutting a quick circle on our bed as he made his way back to the sliding glass door. He would get a crazy look in his eyes, and his tongue would hang out of his mouth flapping as he made his rounds.

Like Marley, Scotty also surprised us when he would show tenderness and care, somehow knowing when his people needed some extra love and support.

It was Scotty who kept me company those days that crawled by as we waited for the birth of our first child. He would help pass the time by bringing me his tinkle ball to throw for him.

Later, when our baby daughter was in her carrier at four weeks, Scotty even dropped his beloved tinkle ball into her lap, hoping she would throw the ball for him as we had. It touched my heart to see Scotty trying to relate to this new little human we had brought home.

As we prepared for our move to the countryside, for many reasons, a new home was found for Scotty. Heartbroken, I drove away after leaving him that last time with a friend of a friend. We never saw Scotty again.

I was comforted by the sniffles joining my own throughout the theater as we watched the conclusion of the movie. I knew I was not alone in relating to "the world's worst dog" and how deeply the Grogans loved him throughout his life, despite the unexplainable craziness.

Linda Vestal is a wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend living in Gibsonville. Contact her with comments or story ideas at lindavestal@triad.rr.com.