You Had Me at Woof: How Dogs Taught Me the Secrets of Happiness by Julie Klam

name, his personality changed to go with it. He was a little less nervous, he would let you pet him longer, and wherever I went, he was right there with me. Beatrice was a bit of a loner, so when we were in the apartment she’d be off in our room tucked away in her bed, and Moses mostly had me to himself.
    I worried a lot about him. The first two days he did not go to the bathroom at all. I’d call Sheryl while I walked him. “Eventually he will go,” she said. “He’ll have to.” She was right. Finally the third day he peed, one long, long, long pee. I didn’t know who was more relieved, he or I. I found myself talking about him all the time. A new foster moving in is always dramatic, but he was also so enigmatic. He didn’t gobble down food or go crazy when he heard a noise. He was a somber, earnest boy. I reread the original post about how he spent all of his time hiding under the couch, and I planted my lips on the top of his very flat head. While doing the dishes one day, I looked down at him. He was staring up at me and I think from that moment on, his eyes never left me.
    He started to come into his own—or as much of his own as he could—at about the one-month mark. I noticed that he didn’t shake anymore, and he was absolutely smitten with me. I have to say the feeling was mutual. I would pick him up and put his front legs over my shoulder, his big head right at my face, looking into my eyes, breathing his breath. I would start slow dancing, singing, “Heaven, I’m in heaven ...” Then I’d dip him. Paul would yell, “Get a room!”
    We laughed a lot with Moses. He reminded us of Buster Keaton, all deadpan and black-and-white. And he just blossomed like a sunflower. He got a little skip in his step and just the tiniest amount of moxie. He started to bark at other dogs and wag his tail and chase squirrels and even have a little swagger. The feeling we had of taking this dog from under the couch in the trailer and restoring him to the top of the bed was pretty breathtaking. We were very proud of what he was able to accomplish.
    Occasionally, ever so slightly, he bit people. Like when my brother came to visit. Matt strode into our apartment and came to give me a hug and Moses jumped up and bit him on the ass. Matt told me later that the only cure for this type of behavior was euthanasia. I told him I didn’t want to make him feel any worse, but I think I’d sooner euthanize him than Mosie. I did have to keep him on a little tighter lead, though. We just had to be extra careful.
    So Moses burrowed his way into my heart. I just loved him and it was different from the other dogs. He became my little boy, my fur kid, as Oprah says. He always wanted to be near me. When I worked at the computer, he sat his big body on my lap and put his head on the keyboard. It was okay, I could always use another space in between words. Plus, it represented how far he had come. He had a minor set-back when I took him to get neutered. All the shaking came back. But the vet’s office was absolutely in love with him, and when I came to pick him up the entire staff came out to say good-bye. About a day later he was okay again.
    I loved him to the moon and back. I wouldn’t want to compare any other dog, but I did think he was the first dog who came close to being what Otto was to me. I never thought it was possible that once I had an adoring spouse and loving little child, I would still feel the dog love in the same way I did when I was single. But with Moses I began to understand that “dog” was its own category of “love.” Sometimes you just need to hold and kiss a member of the dog species. Even when humans are available.
    And with that growing connection, Violet started to turn on him. Just four at the time, she asked with increasing regularity if Moses could go live with Paul’s uncle Dan, who had often talked to us about getting a dog. And then she stopped asking if he could go, and she started pointing at days