Tasha, the cutest, blue-eyed weimaraner you ever did see, adopted me on American Thanksgiving 1998. After a long weekend together, I headed back to work. Four a.m., hour-long walks weren't good enough. She was broken-hearted each time I pulled out my good clothes to go to work. I couldn't handle her despair.

I looked first for a company where I could bring Tasha to work, but there were none. So, I left a well-paying job to start Hughes Communications. I feared I wouldn't be able to pay the mortgage and buy the groceries, but Tasha taught me that, when you do what you do for love, the bowl always gets filled, and there's a good bed to lie in.

Because of Tasha, I start each day with a walk. When she was younger, she nudged my mouse to remind me that a few smacks of the ball in the yard would be just the thing to clear my head.

Now that she's old, she refuses to give up, pushing past me at the door to guarantee I don't leave her home because it's cold. And, though she's now more patient, she always knows when it's time to end the day and break for dinner.

When I'm angry or upset, she nuzzles me, helping me get past the moment and know whatever's wrong soon won't matter. And, when things go right, she teaches me to celebrate with enthusiasm and play.

Tasha and HCI have pulled me through thick and thin. I owe it all to Tasha, who has been my inspiration, teacher and support.

Thank you, Tasha.