When I was 15 years old my dog Tina bit off her tail. I’m not talking about just the tip; she is a miniature dachshund and she ate half of her body length. She was chasing her tail one day and caught it. Apparently she is scared of her own farts, which we didn’t know when we adopted the nine-year-old dog from Hurricane Ike.

Two years ago my mom adopted another dachshund nicknamed the “Internet puppy” after some late-night online shopping resulted in pet ownership. Elvis the Internet puppy was not quite a puppy, but rather a seven-year-old, fully grown dog that was selectively housebroken. After two years of neurotic pee-pees behind the couch, Elvis wears a diaper when the family leaves.

My third dog, a lab-mix named Zeke, is currently extremely disappointed that he has to wear a massive, duct tape-reinforced cone around his head to prevent him from chewing at a tumor on his leg. He is mostly upset because this means that he can no longer let himself outside by repeatedly ramming his head into the door until it opens.

Dinnertime is a combination of obnoxious begging and uncomfortable glances from Elvis, who, in a previous home, was taught to sit outside and stare at the family through the window as they eat.

Tina, the now 14-year-old blind dachshund, patrols the house and notifies the wall or back of the sofa of any sudden movements or noises.

Zeke, who has slept in front of my door every day since I’ve gone to college, and waited for me to come back, loyally guards my room. Well, except when Elvis faithfully poops in my room every time I leave to remind me that he misses me and is not OK with my departure.

Whenever I get homesick at school I look up pictures of my dogs. I have even FaceTimed and Snapchatted them. At the beginning of every semester I encourage Tina to stay alive for four more months because she is my best friend.

So to my dogs, because I like to imagine that you can read, I love you all. I’m sorry that I hold you up and reenact "The Lion King" and that I force you to take selfies with me. I hope you can forgive me for all of the “wiener” jokes and unfortunate doggie Halloween costumes.

Most of all I hope you don’t forget me during these next four months, although you never have before. Home is truly where your dog is.

(And I better see you in May, Tina!)