Where It All Started

I was a cat person.

In fact, I was pretty adamant that I was a cat person. I did not want a dog.

What I wanted was a baby. A human baby.

But that wasn't in the cards.

We tried. Really tried. Fertility treatments, endless appointments, hope followed by disappointment, and then somehow finding the strength to do it all over again. Long before I had completely given up on that dream, my husband suggested we get a dog.

Nope.

I wasn't a dog person, and besides, I still wanted a baby.

A dog wasn't part of the plan.

And then one day I gave in.

We met Gambol when she was only two weeks old. From that point until the day we brought her home, I visited her every Friday. Looking back now, I suppose I was already falling in love, even if I wasn't ready to admit it.

I was now a dog owner.

I still wasn't a dog person.

There were going to be rules.

She was not getting on the couch.

She was definitely not sleeping on the bed.

I was going to be one of those sensible dog owners with boundaries.

Facebook—and my neighbor Brian—have made it their annual tradition to remind me of exactly when that plan fell apart. Every year, the memory pops up of the day I, yes I, picked Gambol up and invited her onto the couch for a cuddle.

So much for boundaries.

Fast forward a few years, and I now have large tattoos of Gambol and Puck on my arm. I can never go into witness protection because my identity is pretty much etched into my skin forever.

There's no denying it anymore.

I am, without question, a dog person.

You know the type.

The tumbleweeds of dog hair greet visitors before I do. Every article of clothing I own comes accessorized with Labrador glitter. It doesn't matter what color pants I choose because I have a chocolate and a yellow Lab (and somehow Puck's black hair still materializes two years after he passed), so between the three of them they've got every outfit covered (literally).

There are leashes hanging by every exterior door, tucked into every vehicle, and stuffed into every bag "just in case." I regularly discover dog treats in pockets months after I put them there. Poop bags strategically placed everywhere they might be needed.

And those rules about dogs not sleeping on the bed?

Those disappeared a long time ago.

These days, regular chiropractic appointments are simply part of the cost of being loved by dogs. Every night I fall asleep with one—or more often two—dogs pressed against my feet, somehow managing to take up most of my half of the king-sized bed while I cling to the remaining few inches along the edge. And don't get me started on blankets.

Dog people know exactly what I'm talking about.

The funny thing is, I sometimes wonder what life would look like if those fertility treatments had worked.

I'd probably have a 12-year-old child instead of an 11-year-old Gambol.

Life took us down a different path.

Gambol didn't replace the child we couldn't have, because no one thing replaces another. Grief doesn't really work that way. But she gave me somewhere to pour all of the love, nurturing, and care that I had been holding onto.

Today, that love is shared among three dogs (and one we visit daily, resting under a dogwood tree on our property).

Three very spoiled dogs, if we're being honest.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Looking back now, it's hard to pinpoint exactly when I stopped thinking of myself as someone who owned a dog and started thinking of myself as a dog person.

Maybe it happened during those Friday puppy visits.

Maybe it happened the first time she ignored my "no dogs on the couch" rule because I'd quietly changed it.

Maybe it happened the first time I realized I was planning outings around her dinner time.

Or maybe it happened so gradually that I never noticed until one day my house, my routines, my wardrobe, and eventually my career all revolved around dogs.

Because that's really where this story leads.

The articles you'll find throughout this website are practical. They'll answer questions, solve problems, and hopefully make life with your dog a little easier. But behind every one of those articles is a story. A lesson learned from Gambol. A moment with Puck. A laugh, a mistake, a challenge, or one of those little everyday experiences that only makes sense once you've shared your life with a dog.

This blog is where I'll tell those stories.

It's where you'll get to know the person behind the website, the dogs behind the advice, and the moments that shaped both of us along the way.

I never set out to become a dog person.

I certainly never imagined dogs would influence the direction of my life as much as they have.

But here we are.

Covered in dog hair, sleeping on the edge of the bed, carrying treats in every pocket, permanently tattooed with the faces of two incredible dogs, and grateful every single day for the unexpected path that brought me here.

Welcome to the story behind the stories.