Thorbert, beloved fat dog,
I remember when we first adopted you from the shelter.
You walked into the house, displaying a mock confidence that hid your fear.
You were silent for the first few months you lived here.
Once, you escaped out the front door, and I chased you down the sidewalk as you looked back at me over your shoulder and ran.
You were afraid of hats and growled at men wearing ties.
You would nervously pee if you were scolded, or if anyone approached you too quickly.
Eventually you found your voice and now you bark shrilly at anyone or anything that deigns to move past our house, your domain.
If you accidentally find yourself outside of your domain, you wait patiently by the front door for us to welcome you back inside.
You follow me wherever I go, my shadow, even if I'm just taking a load of laundry upstairs.
You throw the cushions off of the couch to make yourself comfortable.
You will eat virtually anything, including lettuce, but you seem to enjoy most your morning carrot that I offer to you when I feed the guinea pigs.
You leap for joy when the word "WALK" is mentioned.
You wag your tiny stump of a tail whenever someone calls your name.
You have marvelous expressive eyebrows.
Your prodigious girth is matched by only the enormous warmth of your heart.
My fat little dog
How I do love you.
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What a loving tribute.
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