I used to be a cat person… I blame Garfield for this – his snarky wit and ability to own any situation was, in my youth, something I actually looked up to. Then I got fat because I was lazy and ate lasagna all day, so my parents made me start riding my bike to school. One day the neighbor’s dog nipped at my ankle, made contact, and that pretty much was it for me and dogs. When I was old enough to have real actual role models, the cat thing stuck and the thought of befriending a dog never once crossed my mind.
Looking back, I may have missed out on some good times.
The weirdest thing about my conversion to being a dog person is before I met Paul, I already had a dog by proxy of my girlfriend at the time. Lucy was, make no mistake, her dog. If there was confusion about this the cute green collar and occasional pink sweater would hopefully help dispel any doubt.
I needed another man in the house. That’s when I met Paul, or rather, Paul met me I suppose. We rolled into Homestead to the same breeder Lucy was from, and there he was – twice the size of his two sisters, and therefore half the price for double the cuteness.
When Paul was old enough to come home he slept on my lap the entire 45 minute drive from Homestead, like we were both at peace together. He’s been everything I forgot a dog could be: friend, follower, psychologist… you name it, he’s been there, and he still loves falling asleep in my lap in the car. It’s pretty adorable.
So today is Paul’s 2nd birthday. We went on extra long walks, he got a new squirrel, and he’s full of his favorite treats. He really is my best friend; something that I probably would have made fun of or brushed off as weird a few years ago. He’s a cool little dude, and everyday I’m thankful and appreciative for the chain of events that brought my little puppy soulmate and I together.
Love you Paultergeist!