Of all our three dogs (they’re all adopted), Oscar the Havanese is the most in love with me. So much so that he literally follows me anywhere I go throughout our house. I stand up to get something from my room upstairs, he follows. I get up from the couch to get a glass of water from the kitchen, he is right behind me. Even when I walk to the bathroom, Oscar trails me like a shadow, looking up at me as if to say: “Where are we going? I’m with you, Mom.”

When a noise outside our front door sets all three boys on a barking spree, Oscar is the only one who runs to me, and with his paws on my knees, looks up and softly whimpers: “Mom, there’s a noise outside. Can’t you hear it? It’s scary! Mo-om!”

He takes every chance he can to sit next to me on the couch, and lays his head on my chest and looks up into my eyes.

When I’m out of town on business, Oscar is the most miserable. He sulks and stares at the door, hoping I’ll walk in.

He just can’t get enough of me. I am the end all, be all of his existence.