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Growing up, we had cats in the household. When I was very young, it was Tia. After she passed away we got Murphy. Murphy had a restless spirit and didn’t stick around for long. Never did we own dogs and, in truth, never did I hold much of an affinity for them. My Opa had dogs while I was growing up, and though I loved his last dog, Brady, cuddling and playing was never something I did.

By the time I was 20 years old, for no reason in particular, I was afraid of dogs. In retrospect, this was probably due to hearing about canine attacks in the news. I had convinced myself that if I got too close to any dog, the same would happen to me. That being said, I avoided all dogs at all costs.

Photo: This Year’s Love on Flickr

On Boxing Day, 2003 I was still living in the Comox Valley. Our home is in the rural countryside, and the homes on our street are few and far between. I decided to take a snow-filled walk in the silent afternoon, the only audible sound was the snow crunching under foot. As I rounded the corner, I saw a dog sitting in the middle of the road at the top of the street and less than 200 feet in front of me.

Determined to face my fear, I thought my best chance would be to walk a wide circle around the rather large dog, avoid eye contact and pray that he wouldn’t notice me. What a fool I was. I started inching closer…150 feet…100 feet…50 feet. Within the last few yards, the dog stood up and began a slow trot in my immediate direction. “Oh god, I’m toast.” I started to panic on the inside.

As the beast closed in, I began to realize just how large my soon-to-be opponent really was. There was nowhere I could run and nowhere I could hide. The dog was in front of me, up on its hind legs with its paws on my shoulders. I was no match for this animal’s strength and within a split second, found myself pushed backwards into a snowbank; the dog was now on top of me.

And then he started licking my face. All I could do was laugh.

To say this caught me off guard and entirely by surprise is an understatement. After a few moments, I picked myself up out of the snow to learn that I had a new walking companion. The dog, who I soon learned was called Rowdy, lived at a house just up the street and, despite his gargantuan frame, was only a year old. This was a canine who, when standing upright, was taller than me. I’m 5’9”.

And so, this became our routine and Rowdy became my buddy. Each day I’d come home from work to find Rowdy sitting on my doorstep waiting for his walk. Often on weekends, he’d sniff outside my bedroom window and let out a few little barks to beg me to come outside and play. Sadly, his owner spent no time with him and never walked him. This escalated to the point where the man asked me if I’d take over walking duties because he didn’t have the time (or the desire, I expect). Heartbroken at the thought, there was no way I could neglect the task.

He was big and furry and smelly and muddy but I loved him. Above all else, he was entirely loyal and loved me back equally. It was less than half a year later that I moved back to Vancouver. Upon my return visits home, I’d often check for Rowdy but it wasn’t long before he disappeared altogether. I like to think he ran away and found a farm that really wanted him.

Since that time in my life, nearly five years ago, I have grown to develop an immense love for all dogs. Last year, as many of you know, our family finally adopted a new dog – our first since Brady was put down in 2001. Charley has quickly grown to be an integral part of our family and daily life. She’s perfect with a big fluffy beard, naturally precocious and entirely loving. Charley brought new life to our family’s home.

And today, this Friday the 14th, I find myself sitting in my office and entirely restless for the end of the day. As I so often do several times each year, I am taking care of my best friend’s dogs. But in truth, it’s no task at all. There are few things that feel better than walking through the front door after a day at work to find their tiny paws resting on my thighs, aching to be picked up and cuddled. In fact, the only thing that makes me feel more content is waking in the morning to find Casey coiled up in the nook of my arm and Benji playfully pawing at his own face while lying on my chest in an adorable attempt to wake me.

How anyone couldn’t - or wouldn’t – be a dog lover is completely beyond me.