When I first met you, I thought you were bizarre, but, after walking you to the park, I knew our hearts were on par.
Jeni, Jake, and Trayse. Together, we are a little family.
Your are our dog baby. We wish we could claim you as a dependent, but U.S. Law says this can not be.
You keep watch over our living spaces with pride and protect us from squirrels and bunnies who run away and try to hide.
We notice how you try to help us with household projects and blog posts. Obviously, you can’t actually help us put together furniture or bake cookies since you are a canine, but your efforts are never asinine.
You keep us accountable for getting lots of exercise and together we absorb vitamin D sunbathing on the sidewalk or curling up in the grass underneath a tree.
Life’s changed a lot within the past two years and we’ve moved two times. From Minnesota to Iowa to Missouri, you’ve handled it in stride.
It’s true that you stole Jake’s grilled cheese sandwich that one day and make all of our blankets and pillows smell weird.
But you make us laugh each day with your silly ways and are very much revered.
We’ll be there to comfort you again, should we ever live in a city that’s eligible to host one of those weeklong, house-shaking at 2 a.m. PGI Firework Conventions that makes you shudder and puke.
We’ll protect you from the thunderstorms, keep your feet warm on winter walks, and let you mangle our winter hats, because that’s just what we do.
Life’s not easier or more convenient now that you’re in our life, but it’s all for the best.
Life’s much happier with dog, more than we could have ever guessed.