Six years ago today, I was commiserating with my friend Megan over my recent break-up. It had happened on Valentines Day and, while a long time coming and definitely for the best, it still stung. Megan jokingly said I should get a dog, and we both laughed and finished our avocado toast and overpriced slow drip coffees. But, as fate would have it, as we exited the restaurant, a dog rescue had set up shop on the sidewalk outside. Apparently a hoarder in the South Bay had gotten busted, so these pathetic little pooches were trying to find a good home. And it was there, in a sea of chihuahuas, that I saw Linus. He was wearing a bandana and I immediately knew he was supposed to be in my life. I adopted him on the spot.

At first, he had separation anxiety - which is I guess what happens when you're used to being surrounded by hundreds of dogs at any given time. But, after some TLC and a good doggy daycare, he realized I was coming back and stopped crying. The upside to the hoarding thing is that Linus LOVES everyone. Dogs. Cats. Rabbits. Humans. Doesn't matter, he loves them and wants to snuggle with them. Because thats Linus' greatest passion - snuggling. A few months after I got him, I had to relocate to Atlanta for a new job. Linus found the most amazing doggy daycare (Barking Hound Village West in case you're in Atlanta and need a good spot) and we settled into a routine. During the week, he would snuggle and be the ringleader at doggy daycare and on the weekends we'd explore together. We're drive up to the Blue Ridge Mountains. We'd drive to middle of nowhere, peanut farms. Peach orchards. Farmers Markets. Tennessee. Alabama. North Carolina. It was me, Linus and the open road. He's wonderful in the car and he likes nothing better than to look out the window while the pastures and hillsides and cities roll past. Atlanta took a toll on me, I was quite isolated due to the nature of my job, and I think I can honestly say, Linus kept me as sane as possible during those years. I don't think I'd be functional if it hadn't been for his companionship.

After moving back to LA, Linus expanded his dog frienships. He became best buds with Tito and Olive and Dexter and Watson and Penny Lane and Nibbler. He went to my friends beach house and we all played the game, "is Linus dead or sunbathing?".

And then Winnie came into our lives. Winnie was a rescue that needed a home and I begrudgingly took her in after I saw how much Linus cared for her. She hadn't known any sort of affection or companionship and Linus, on the first night, forced her into snuggling and hasn't looked back since. Now they're partners in crime. When we moved to New York from LA, they settled into Brooklyn life. Linus loved all the smells of the city (urine, rotting chicken, subway steam - he has a refined nasal palate). The pups favorite things to do was to sit on the front stoop of our building, judging the passersby, and sitting in the window of my 3rd story apartment, judging the passersby. I called them neighborhood watch, because, much like my great grandmother, they liked spying on the neighborhood happenings. Basically Linus was the old lady from 227 mixed with the sass of Jackee Harry. And now we're here in Vermont. Linus lives for the backyard. During the summer and fall, he'd explore the garden and then find a nice sunny patch of grass to take a snooze. The boy lives for his snoozes. Once the snow came, I thought he'd hate it - but nope! The deep snow just means more chances for adventure. He'll make little tunnels and explore forgotten corners of the yard, like he's Shackelton and this is his Arctic! While Winnie stays inside, Linus is by my side as I shovel and curse the gods for not providing me with an electric snow thrower. He's so easy going, he settles in anywhere. He was a beach bum in Cali - chasing seagulls and swimming in the ocean. He went to the Grand Canyon and looked down on all that majesty. He's been to Texas. He's been to the Deep South. Linus strutted on the Upper East Side of New York like he was Chuck Bass. He's hiked in the Green Mountains and he's snuggled with me in a cabin in Maine.

He's seven now and been with me for six years. And while these have, hands down, been some of the worst years of my life, they've been made so much better and my heart is so much fuller for having Linus by my side. He's the handsomest boy and the dapperest gentleman. I'm praying for many more years of adventures and snuggles, though I know I'm the luckiest person in the world for having even six years with this little monster. He's not just a good boy, he's the best boy. So cheers to Linus and all the adventures and new places we'll explore together.