I remember standing in the kitchen as the person selling the puppies swung open his door and 11 milk chocolate lab puppies poured in from the backyard over the white linoleum floor. They stumbled over each with their tails wagging at high speed, and puppy breath intact.

Immediately I began searching for the biggest and strongest of the bunch. I was checking out their shoulders and the size of their head and paws because I wanted a dog that was bold and strong.

As I was busy doing my thing, the boys’ mother had quietly scooped up the runt of the litter and was nose to nose with the pup, calling her by a name that we had talked about, but not decided on until then, “Sister.”

Our boys always wanted a sister, and at that point in our lives, getting a dog and naming her sister was the only way that was going to happen.

So, I wrote a check for $100 and carried our dog home. From day one Sister was a wonderful dog that loved being around the boys.

She obeyed, learned tricks, walked next to you without a leash, never jumped on people, would not run off when the gate was left open and always greeted you when you walked in the door. A perfect dog as far as I could see.

Occasionally I would get up in the middle of the night to check on the boys and Sister would be sitting upright in the middle of their bedroom watching over them while they slept.

On nights when a ferocious West Texas storm blew through, she would crawl from bed to bed, curling up next to each boy to be sure they were safe and warm.

Man’s best friend without question.

When I was coaching baseball at West Texas A&M University, I had a sign in my clubhouse that read, “teach people how to win, use words if necessary.”

There is so much truth to that. Words are optional.

During the 14 years Sister lived, 98 dog years if you are counting, she never spoke a single word to me, other than an occasional bark to let her back inside the house.

She never once complained, talked back to me, rolled her eyes at me, or slammed a door in my face. However, she did like a good ear rubbing.

She was loyal, obedient, consistent, trustworthy, and always cleaned her plate.

How powerful are actions? Enough to allow an animal to become such an important member of your family that you grow emotionally attached. Most of you know what I am talking about.

Words are not needed to teach people what it takes to be successful in life, it is our actions. Always has been, always will be.

You fill in the blank. What is important to you?

Teach people how to ________________, use words if necessary.”

You can put several things in that blank such as:

• be a friend, be a leader, be a great spouse, be a great parent, be dependable, be a team player.

Whatever you chose to fill in the blank with, let your actions do the talking.

Early one morning, I woke up to let Sister outside; I noticed that she had a difficult time getting off her pillow. She was breathing rapidly, and I knew something was not right. I helped her outside so she could get some fresh air and my heart sank as I watched her struggle to walk and stay upright.

That day when I came home from lunch, Sister had died. I know many of you think it was just a dog and it certainly does not come close to a person dying, but I am still amazed at how powerful a pet can become in a person’s life when words are never used.

I often imagine how much more influential and valuable I could be if my actions spoke that loudly. The people I admire the most in my life are very modest in speech, yet they exceed in their actions.

Obviously, the boys were deeply saddened because they too were taken in by the runt of the litter. Not by something that dog said, but by everything that dog did. Her actions cultivated love, trust, loyalty, and an extraordinarily strong bond without ever saying a word.

Today I have a 135-pound white lab named Cash. He has yet to say a word to me either, but I know he has my back.

I need to be more like a dog.

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Todd Howey is a columnist for BrownwoodNews.com whose articles will appear on Fridays.