I'm not even going to lie: It wasn't until my dog Shadow, was in the latter part of his life that I began to appreciate the impact his life had on my own.

Growing up, Shadow was almost a one-for-one replication of the fictional dog Marley in the movie "Marley & Me." Both rambunctious and rowdy to no limit, this little yellow lab undoubtedly shaved a couple of years off the lifespan of everyone in my household. But looking back at his last couple of years, I've realized how much he's affected me and my family's lives. I don't think anyone in the family would mind shaving off just a couple of more years to feel his presence again for a couple of days.

I remember the first time we met him.

I was about to enter first grade when my family had decided we would embark on the journey of becoming a pet owner. I remember driving out about an hour from Philadelphia to some local farm that recently advertised it was giving away a litter of puppies for cheap.

When we had arrived, there was a large fenced-off pasture where the puppies were allowed to run about freely. I remember six-year-old me approaching the puppies timidly, then subsequently making a mad dash for the exit as a small army of labrador puppies of all colors and shades started hunting me like the vulnerable prey I had become. I ran in circles long enough that some of the puppies had broken off the chase.

But there was one unrelenting in his hunt. One that had followed my every step since I moved into the puppy pasture. One that had golden-yellow fur and chocolate-colored eyes.

We decided to take that one home. Despite his color, we decided in his curiosity and propensity to follow us everywhere we went to name him "Shadow".

I remember for the first couple of years of his life, Shadow was never allowed in the house. We had kept him outside and in the garage, as we believed he was an outdoor dog.

That all changed when shortly after his third birthday, Shadow got into an accident.

It was a pretty bad one. I remember coming home one day after school and my mother telling me, "Shadow got hit by a car."

The poor guy survived. He had shattered his left-hind leg, an injury that would burden him up until his final days. But he was still a young pup, still with time left to grow and mature. He had the whole "cone-of-shame" get-up and everything after his operation, but he remained still cunning and energetic as ever.

After my family had moved from the greater Philadelphia area to our current residence in Howard County, MD, Shadow was in the latter part of his life as a dog. Aged around ten years old, he had shed a large part of his puppy persona in place of taking on the "old man" characterization, complete with frequent napping and slow neighborhood walks.

That's when I realized I loved him the most. I had come to realize that all of the time we had spent together had built this unspoken loyalty to each other.

Knowing the crazy puppy that he had once been and the amount of time that we had spent together was almost a form of brotherhood, I knew that he acknowledged that we had an unspoken bond, not of owner and pet - but more like brother to brother.