I am not a dog lover, but I love my dog. A few weeks ago my son and I got into a discussion about how old our little, white Bichon Frise is. I figured he’s three or four, my son insisted he’s older. So I whipped out his doggie birth certificate to prove I was right. Only I wasn’t. My pet is actually six years old. Six years! Where has the time gone?

I still remember when we bought him as a tiny puppy, from a less than reputable pet seller it turns out. He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t drink, and wouldn’t sleep (alone). Heartbroken and sleep-deprived, I called the vet who said to pamper my pooch with cooked chicken and rice and bottled water. A working mother of three, I rushed to the local superette and purchased what they had available. That night my puppy feasted on boiled Bell and Evans chicken breast (steroid, antibiotic, and hormone free and uber expensive) cut into tiny, easy to chew  morsels, basmati rice, and Poland Spring water. My children ate peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches!

It took all of 48 hours for that little white ball of fur to burrow into my heart. Today, I rarely take a step he doesn’t follow. I’m the favorite, which suits me fine…..unless of course someone in the house is eating….then they become the temporary favorite. My pup is no longer little, which I blame, in part, on the vet. You see, after having a taste of table food at a young age, my dog has a very discriminating palate. He’ll scrounge for people-food day and night, and won’t touch his dry nuggets until he sees how he’s made out at the dinner table. And boy does he love chicken! The vet says my dog has the biggest thighs he’s ever seen on a bichon. It’s because he spends as much time balanced on his hind legs begging as he does standing on all four.

For those of you who don’t have a dog, there’s nothing better than coming home to a bundle of energy who’s bursting with joy at your arrival. (Even after a short walk to the mailbox!) Having a dog is a lot of work, but he works hard for us too: Protecting us from delivery people, alerting us to movement in the yard, notifying us that the garbage is full and needs scavenging   emptying. I love my dog, and can’t imagine life without him.

Do you have a pet you’d like to write about? If so, I’d love to read about him/her.