Max the Wonder Dog

This is Max - he's my sweet, fluffy little

dog. So cute! My fluffy little dog! (Imagine me saying that while rough-housing with him after I've been at work all day.)

If you've ever been to my house, you've had him in your lap. He refuses to be ignored and refuses to play with any ball except the one he put under the couch and can't get out by himself. He's a cute, fluffy, crazy little dog, but I do love him.

When J was a little over a year, my best friend and I went to the mall and went into the puppy store. In principal I think the mall is not the place to get a dog, but that's where Max was - and when I held him, he fell asleep curled up in my arms.

I'm a sucker for cuddles, so my friend got him for me as a birthday present! Every time he poops or vomits on the floor, as every good dog has to do occasionally, my wonderful husband reminds me: "Three times you asked, and three times I said no. Look what YOUR dog just did." Max is a Bishon Frise, and that breed is supposed to live about 15 years. Max is 6, so in Mark's mind we only have to endure about 9 more years of dog ownership. Secretly, Mark loves him, he just won't admit it out loud. To anyone. Or even to himself.