How do dogs become man's best friend?

Sunday, August 1st, is another one of those days I will never forget. Many of you have seen my Australian Shepherd dog at a live broadcast, maybe with me in a parade, maybe saw him in the Pet's Guide. His name was Woodrow F. Dog, named after the lead character, Woodrow F. Call, in the novel and mini series Lonesome Dove.
He was diagnosed with bone cancer and it took it's tole quickly. We had to put him to sleep and buried him on a hot Sunday morning. He was my closest buddy for 13 years.
Here's, to me, how dogs become man's best friend....
Back in 90's, some close friends of mine, Bat and Theresa Masterson, were breeding beautiful Australian Shepherd dogs. They had a waiting list for their puppies. I didn't have a dog at the time and my friend Bat, who I team roped with, and was best man at my wedding, kept insisting that I have one of these pup's. I remember him telling me, "these dogs will out think ya, they know what you're gonna do before you ever go to do it".
I picked out a big male with a white fur collar that wrapped all the way around his neck. He had one blue eye and one brown eye. He was the easiest dog to house break I've ever owned. As a puppy, when you took him outside to do his business he would follow you everywhere.....and he never stopped following.
Bat was right, he just wanted to be at your side. And he never left mine for the thirteen years he was here. If I was in the house, he was laying either in front of me or at my side. When I put my shoes on, he got excited knowing we were headed outside. No matter what I was working on, he was always close by. If I had to go somewhere in the truck, he jumped into the back seat, his cold nose at my elbow, resting on the console, feet on the floor. I have a pair of boots that I leave my spurs on. If I pulled those on, he went nuts. He liked the horses and there was always a chance we might hook up the trailer and go somewhere. He always went along. He went team roping, he loved trail rides and camping. He rode the trails, right along with me, dodging off to chase a squirrel or a bunny, then right back to my side, his stubby tail wagging, looking up at me as if to say "did you see me about get that one daddy".
One evening, I had pulled my socks off and tossed them on the floor at the end of the couch. I walked by later and they caught my eye, and I thought for sure they were his white front legs lying there. They weren't.
Then one night I awoke and could have sworn I heard him knock on the door wanting to come in. He always knocked when he wanted in the house. I sat up and thought, Rick, you're nuts, Woodrow is dead. But I got up, and went to look anyway. He wasn't there.
For thirteen years, he has been my shadow and constant companion. His love and dedication, I never questioned, they were both unconditional. It will take a long, long time before I look down and don't expect to see one blue eye, one brown eye, looking up at me, tongue out, almost appearing to smile and asking "where we goin' daddy, what are we gonna do, not that it matters as long as we're together".
He was this man's best friend, and I'll will miss him forever.