I might be biased here. But Rigby is seriously one of the cutest puppies I've ever seen, and everyone who meets him loves him. We first got him last summer. I actually didn't pay too much attention to him for the first day we had him because I didn't want to get attached.

My younger siblings had brought him home for "one night" from summer camp, and none of us were certain that we'd get to keep him. So I just acknowledged that he was adorable and left it at that. Then we brought him home to stay. I still didn't want to get attached. I thought that since everyone wanted a chance to have him sleep in their room, I'd go ahead and claim him last.

Well, that "last" time, after everyone else had gotten a turn, became every time. I would say that I was the only one who'd get up at odd hours of the night and early in the morning to let him out. Which was true, since the other kids had to deal with some messes in the morning.

But that aside, I really just fell in love with him. I even chose the name we agreed on: Rigby, like from Regular Show. He was so small, I gave him his first few baths in the sink. He was so cute that he was compared to a Build-A-Bear. And he was so fluffy that he turned me into a squealing, puppy loving mess.

I think he actually changed my personality. Even my friends and family thought I started acting in a way they hadn't expected or seen. In other words, I simply adored him. I would repeatedly say how much I loved him, I would hog his attention, and I basically ended up making him love me more than everyone else.

They'll say that he loves them more than me, but we both know deep down it isn't true. Rigby is my fluffy buddy, a companion that I needed more than I realized. I know that some day, probably even some day soon, I'll move out of the house and I won't get to see him as often. But there's no doubt in my mind that I'll always love him, and that he'll always love me.