Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a fool for a dog. Not every dog that has ever lived; rodent-sized yappers leave me cold. However, to my wife and me, a house without tooth-marked chair legs and tumbleweeds of hair in the corners barely qualifies as a home.
That pungent odor that makes fastidious visitors wrinkle their noses on rainy days? That’s the smell of unconditional love.
Copyright 2011 The National Memo