If you were to walk past my dorm room at any given time of the year, you would find that my door is decorated somewhat like a shrine, but not to a religious figure or deity. It is basically a display of my love for “my” dog. I put “my” in quotation marks, because you could say I am as much “his” girl as he is “my” pet. For those of you who aren’t absolutely in love with one, you either don’t have a dog, or don’t have a heart. I forgive you.

Of course, canine love is not quite so universal– nothing is liked by everyone. But for someone as animal-oriented as myself, it can be difficult to fathom why someone would not enjoy the benefits of having a pet dog (or any other type of animal, for that matter). The best part of dogs is not what they have, but what they don’t. Dogs are loyal: they have no apprehension toward caring for and protecting those that they love. They have no judgement: they will not love you less because you failed a test or are having a bad hair day. And dogs have no hidden agenda or ulterior purpose: the tail is wagging because they are happy, end of story.

Now, back to my door. On it, below my slingy-dog and above my paw-print stocking, is a picture of my (adorable) pup, two Saint Bernard ornaments, a Saint Bernard welcome figure, and a “A house is not a home without a St. Bernard” sign. Can you guess what type of dog I have?

For those who are familiar with the Saint Bernard breed, you can attest to the fact that the term “pup” is perhaps misleading. At a whopping 156 pounds, he’s not exactly a baby anymore (believe it or not, I was able to carry him, once upon a time. Now, if I could just find a saddle, I’m sure he could carry me instead!). Grown men are afraid of his menacing teeth and muscular build, which I admit would terrify me if not for the knowledge that he is just a gentle giant. But be warned – there is no doubt in my mind that should the situation arise, he would stop at nothing to defend my safety. For that, I am thankful.

His name is Norm (eNORMous), and I have no shame in stating that he is my best friend. When I come home, he is always there to greet me, with a sincere happiness I’m not too sure I’ve ever seen in a fellow human. When I am upset, he asks no questions, just sitting with me and tolerating my rants until I feel better (which always occurs with his comfort). When I need to lighten up, he runs like a manic in circles, making a funny face and turning back to check out my reaction. Regardless of my determination to stay solemn, I end up laughing every time. And I’ll be darned if that sparkle in his eyes isn’t him laughing right along with me.

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