Growing up, I always wanted a dog. Probably because most of my friends had them, my favorite TV families had them, and it just seemed nor l, and American, to have a pooch in the house.

My Dad is very clean. Not just clean, I might say more Danny Tanner-ish in his habits. As in, he hoses down the backyard, and front walkway, and even gets halfway down the street, just for fun, until we have to yell, “Dad, you’re wasting water! You can’t hose down the world!” Then he stops, and comes inside, and starts the very important task of scrubbing the fingerprint udges off the walls.

So, no dog. When I was eight, we moved across town to a larger house, with a pool, in a “safer” neighborhood, in a gated community. With a large yard. I was very against moving. Why, I cried, were we picking up and deserting everything and everyone we knew and loved?! Our old house was great, we had an avocado tree, it was on a super steep hill, what more could you want?! Well, in order to calm me down, I guess, my parents told me that we could get a dog when we moved to the new, barren home. I was sold. I quickly shut my trap.

I feel it was serendipitous that we didn’t get a dog after the move. My parents said that I would never walk it, which I vehemently denied, but which was probably true. And saying we would get a dog and not following through was pretty much the ONLY thing my parents ever promised that didn’t happen in my life so far. I guilted them about it for a few years, sobbing on holidays when I said “the only thing I want is a dog” and refused presents. Then snuck them into my room on the sly.

I am in my twenties now, and our new room te just moved in. She has a dog. A West Highland Terrier, or Westie, as they are known. He is fluffy, but not too fluffy, all, but not too all, white, but not too white. He is perfect.

I don’t even believe in perfection really, but this dog is perfect for ME. Its the dog I always dreamt of having, and it loves me as I knew a dog would. It follows me into the bathroom when I shower. At first we would scare each other, I was not used to having a non-hu n, living thing with a beating heart following me around and it would surprise me around corners.

Slowly, we got used to each other. Now I can tell when the dog needs to go out, or when he just sees a few birds in our yard. I give the doggie water, I walk him, and I teach him boundaries. My boyfriend was impressed when I taught him how to lie in his bed while the hu ns are eating, so as not to bother us. “I can’t believe he listens to you.” As Cesar Millan would say, I am the Alpha Dog.

In some ways, I am glad I have (been forced to) wait until this age to have a dog around. I don’t take him for granted. I am happy every morning when I wake up and hear his little nails clicking across the floor. We are a good tch. I can see how a dog is not for everyone. They are very needy and require a lot of attention and affection and structure.

Now my parents are semi-retired but my Dad travels a lot for work. He’s off to Luxembourg, Mexico, or the Turks and Caicos every month. I ask my Mom if she would like a dog to keep her company. She says no, she has a stepdog now (ours) and she can visit it whenever she wants.

And yes, my furry friend will go with me wherever I want to go and whenever, he is very accomodating like that.