Gryffindor turns five years old this month. I know all dog owners probably say this, but Gryffin is truly the best dog God ever created. He's the perfect combination of couch potato and full on - play fetch, chase squirrels, bark at the postman - dog.
I never really wanted a dog. The last thing I needed was something else to take care of. Then I met Gwen. Gwen is one of my best friends from college. Like me her life was a mess and she wasn't afraid to admit it, a rare trait to have at I'm-Perfect Christian University. Gwen's family needed something to help them feel safe in their house. In their house, a few streets away from the house where her younger sister had been murdered so they adopted a big, scary boxer named Sally.
She has since moved out of Texas, but I hear that Sally the scary boxer still wages her tail and drools on everyone that walks into the family home. They didn't get the imposing guard dog when they brought Sally into their family, but what they did get was massive amounts of drooling unconditional love.
Somewhere in there, Gwen convinced me that what I need to help me learn to open up to people, to love people, was to first learn to love a dog. She was right. I was lucky to find Gryffindor. Was it divine providence? I don't know. Right now he's snuggled up next to me on the couch. His head is resting on Alex's teddy bear as he snores - loudly.