It's Dexter's birthday today! He's one year old! Although he has terrorized countless throw pillows, several dog beds, the rug in this picture (LONG since replaced), all five of the cats, and even the windowsill in the guest bedroom, I wouldn't trade him in for any other dog in the world.
Over the year, he has acquired the following nicknames: Pig, Piggers, Fat Pig, Pigger Do, Squishy Pig, Noodle, Fuzzy Noodle, Monkey, Monkey Pudding, and Monkey Pudding Pants. He totally deserves every last one of them. He snores, growls gently when he is happy, will wake from a deep sleep and come running for hugs if he hears me talking sweetly to Fly (aka "The Competition"), passes wretched gas with abandon (and suspected delight), moves his body in opposing directions when he is excited (like a Pig dancing Jig!), and has an oral fixation, wherein he must put a bone or chew toy or plush toy in his mouth after any prolonged absence from us and keep it there for the next 10-15 minutes.
He's the best and I adore him. I put him to bed with me every night, unless he does so himself. Before I turn in, I give him a kiss on the head and feel my hope restored. Happy Birthday, Pig!