Five years ago, we brought home a little red bundle of fur, who squirmed in my arms the entire car ride. He really was NOT a fan of car rides, then or now. Oh, the plans I had for him. Promptly nicknamed “Little One” because he was so much smaller than Max, who had been known as “Monster Boy” for most of his life, and because I knew, from the moment I saw him, that this one was a young soul, a child who would never really grow up.

Max was an old soul, a peaceful, gentle giant, who was quite content, even as a puppy, to lay in my arms for hours and just snuggle and be loved. Maverick let it be known early on that he was most definitely NOT on board with that behavior.

Five years have passed, and oh how we’ve grown. I was used to Mr. Serious and suddenly I was living with Robin Williams. On speed.

I was under the impression, before Maverick, that one gets a dog, one does some training of the dog to sit, roll over, lay down, and don’t drag you around. Maverick has yet to stop laughing at how little I knew. His job, apparently, has been to teach me that there is a great deal to learn about dogs, and that being a honey badger is a wonderful thing at times. He is a comedian, a rebel, and when he has to be, he can be the sweetest, most intuitive dog you’ve ever met. He hates it when I say that. He, like me, would much prefer being seen as the one who makes you laugh and not the one who may or may not be a marshmallow under all that honey badger exterior. (That does not describe me in any way, by the way. I am totally honey badger to the bone.)

At any rate, it’s been a wild and crazy five years. May the next 15 be just as much fun. (And yes, I expect him to live to 20)