I never fancied myself to be a dog person. I live near Portland; I know of dog people. Dogs litter the streets, hitched up to tables. Dogs come to bars. Dogs are this way and that, and after being around my Show Dog/Breeder/Boarder Grandma, and I didn't have much use for the crazy.
I dismissed it as such. Phooey.
Until my husband weaseled his way through the deep recesses of my dark, dark heart, playing on my one weakness: Squishy faced dogs. Soon, we adopted Miss Courtney.
Life was good with our shy little girl, and during the summer I started to love my trips to the dog park with my family. Me. The hesitant one. And when I suggested she would be happier with another dog in the mix, Greg - the unhesitating one - ran with it, and we adopted young Jake in August.
Jake is a sweet boy, a Dug among dogs. He is ever present, ready to play, attentive.
I find it funny that these two dogs have changed me so dramatically, when I thought I knew myself better. I guess I just didn't know what I was missing.
Happy first birthday, Jakers.