Editor's Notes

Contrary to popular belief, Johnny is not my dog. He’s my brother’s dog. Correction, he’s my brother’s ex-girlfriend’s dog.

So, how did I end up with Johnny? Well, in the beginning, they asked me to help take care of him for a while. And I did. A while turned into a few months, then my brother’s relationship ended and Johnny became this woman’s best friend.

I must admit that the first few weeks with him were chaos. He had accidents (dog owners know what I’m talking about) and separation issues (cried whenever I left for work). But it was all worth it. He wiggled his way into my heart and I started doing things I never knew I would:

  • Whoever thought I’d be walking a dog while wearing pajama pants and a halter? Yes, this is the look of someone half dressed to go out. Dog owners are all too famous for the mix and match look because their little one has to go right in the middle of them getting dressed!
  • You become experts at determining how healthy your dog is by how hard/soft his poop is. Oh yea, and you pick up their poop with such flair and precision you look like you were born doing it.
  • You find yourself sleeping on the floor beside their beds when they’re sick. You only thought you’d be doing this for your kid until Mr. I-wanted-to-eat-what-was-on-the-ground-outside got sick.

But I’m not complaining.

I've realized that no matter how he behaves/misbehaves, he never annoys me. When he greets me at the door with the same enthusiasm throughout the day, no matter how many times I leave, and when he looks up at me with those adoring eyes of his or falls asleep beside me when I pull my all nighters, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Dog owners know what I'm talking about.



Tag: Johnny Boy