Truth be told, I have never been an animal person: never the type to visit zoos or plea with my parents for a pet. When my cousin’s dog had seven French bulldog puppies this year, I was not excited. I begrudgingly offered to help her feed the puppies. I picked up a tiny brown dog with a black muzzle and started feeding it. He snuggled into my shoulder and licked my ear. I instantly fell in love. My mom walked into the room and audibly gasped from seeing me hold this two-week old puppy and then broke out into hysterical laughter. My dad ran into the room after hearing my mom and fell to the floor. I looked at my parents and I looked at the dog I was holding, and I couldn’t help but laugh too. How ridiculous was it that I was bottle feeding a puppy, let alone holding one? I started to cackle along with my parents, having to catch my breath multiple times.

I ended up bonding with that dog, though. He is now named King Louis XVI, lives happily in my room, and is my absolute best friend.