I'm the guy who has a small dog, and he's my best friend.

Bruiser, a brindle coated, Boston-terrier chihuahua mix, is easily the best thing that's ever happened to me. He's energetic and sociable, whereas I'm somewhat unmotivated and love my alone time. He's a little fireball of emotion, whereas I'm apathetic. He's cute, I'm- well, not cute. (Though I tend to subscribe to Adam DeMamp's- Adam from workaholics- view that when a girl rates me as a five, it's out of five, which is pretty good).

Now, a quick scroll through my Instagram and you would be able to tell I'm obsessed with my dog. He dominates my social media feed the way he dominates my time and energy. Bruiser, if you're reading this, I'm not complaining. If you follow me on social media, you've likely seen him in his new reindeer outfit. What you may not know, is that the entirety of my Black Friday shopping was devoted to him, and the reindeer get-up was only one of those purchases.

Something else you may not know is that it's a mutual relationship. I don't chronicle his obsession with me as much as mine with his, as he's a little camera shy even though he's a social butterfly. But, I know anytime someone else is holding him, he's staring at me. When we wake up in the morning- scratch that, when he wakes up in the morning, he notifies me by licking my chest until my eyes open. Once that happens, it's fair game for face kisses, in his mind.

Another thing you don't know, is how deep rooted my obsession is (not creepily, if you have a gutter mind). Whenever I go to sleep, he's usually curled up in a ball in one of two places: in between my legs or to my left side. I'm a left-side sleeper, usually cuddling a pillow, and he likes to nestle under my top arm and on top of my bottom arm, i rest the top arm on the pillow beside him, forming what I consider a protective nest for him to dream in. Typically, I don't remember my dreams. When he doesn't sleep with me, I have very lucid dreams where I'm desperately trying to find him- something's gone wrong or someone's taken him, and I spend forever trying to locate him in these dreams. When I wake up, he's usually whining from his cage or coming to find me, if he hasn't already. Many times when these dreams have happened, he finds me right before I wake up, and nestles back into his familiar spot, as if he knew.

When it rains, I bring an umbrella outside when we go for bathroom breaks. Not for me, but for my dainty little dog who hates to get wet and hates for his paws to touch the wet grass (he normally refuses to use the bathroom the first couple of times and instead hops from concrete stepping stone to concrete stepping stone off the porch and back). So, I've also got him some rain boots that he walks awkwardly in- imagine the way the baby duck from Tom and Jerry walks, and you'll have an accurate representation of his adorable struggle.

There's a meme that's been floating around twitter as of late, that depicts the faces you and your significant dog will make when you return home and see each other. It's kermit the frog flailing wildly for the dog. And it couldn't be more accurate. But, our bond extends through wooden doors I guess. When he hears my car pull into the drive way, he jumps onto the back of a couch that is directly in front of the front door, and just wags his little tail, shaking his entire body in a happily violent way. When I open the door, he jumps down the side and meets me- I always have to be careful not to let him out lest he have an uncontrollable desire to go exploring without adult supervision. He jumps up on his back legs and places his front paws on my lower thighs, and reaches his button nose for my oblong fishhook of an oxygen receptor. Most people grow tired of people puppy kisses by the time their dog is no longer a puppy. I don't. I bend down and let him get a few kisses in as I scratch behind his ears. As I said, it's a mutually beneficial relationship (though I think I benefit more).

Love wouldn't be love without a healthy dose of fear, however. Fear you'll lose that person, to some unfortunate circumstances. Fear they'll become enraged with you and no longer love you back. For instance, when we go on walks, I think I understand how a mother feels as her kid plays in the front yard- ever fearful that some incognizant driver, likely looking at a cell phone, will side swipe my child(dog); or that my child(dog) will absentmindedly run in front of a car and not heed my pleas to get out of the street. I have a healthy dose of fear anytime I can't see him, and hear what can only be described as a chocolate bar wrapper's crackling. I have a healthy dose of fear anytime he's left with someone who isn't me- that they won't feed him and he'll be upset I left him. I have a healthy dose of fear whenever I've accidentally stepped on his paw- for one that he's gravely injured, and two, that he will no longer feel safe with me.

All that fear, is pacified however, when moments like tonight occur. At the end of our mile walk we've taken up as of late, he was getting antsy and sensed the familiar path meant we were soon home. He walked faster and faster. Not wanting to reign him in, I kept upping my pace to keep some slack on the leash. With about 50 yards left to go, I thought, "what the Hell," and broke out into a full out sprint. He started his own run. Right beside me. I kept looking at him the whole way, him at me. Maybe it was a short runners high, or maybe it was just a spiritual connection with man's best friend, but I've never felt more connected and loved with anything or anyone in my life (and Outback's cheese fries are on that list). I've never felt such good vibes before.

When we got to the top of the steps, he turned around and jumped up with his front paws. I crouched down in a catcher's stance (I was a left-handed catcher, so I've been there before), and he just licked and licked my hand as the other scratched the fur behind his neck. I say it to him a lot, but I've never wanted to convey it more than in that moment, "Good boy, I love you, yes I do, I love you."