It all started about 7 years ago, when I walked into a pet store and our eyes met. I now know that you’re not supposed to buy a dog from a pet store. (The hideous practice of backyard breeding is another post.)

His name would be Trotter, and I would spend the next 7 years educating myself about the breed, about dog handling, separation anxiety, gourmet doggie food, and how to choose between a pair of splendid shoes for myself vs. a lush sofa cover for him…(yes keeping him off the sofa is covered in the dog handling books, but I failed at that.)

I have never worked so hard at a anything in my whole life…not my career, not cooking and I dare say, sometimes not even my marriage. Why? Because I wanted Trotter’s life with us to be as fine and fulfilling as it possibly could. I wanted to understand that mystical bond between human and dog. And I wanted him to love me.

I’m not sure Trotter is able to understand love, but I think he does trust me. And I know that he always, always, always wants to be with me. Seven years later, I still melt when I look into his eyes and laugh at almost everything he does.

So, Happy Birthday Trotter…and I hope you enjoy your birthday sirloin, carrot, beef-stock and peanut butter burger. We will be having pasta.

Post from: Blisstree

The Doggie Wears Prada.