Boy.

It is now exactly a month since I got introduced to Boy, or Sweet Boy, as he was called when I met him.

You will realize, in a moment, that nominative determinism strikes again.

I first fell in love with dogs when I visited the lovely city of Belgrade, in Serbia. I spent a lot of my time walking to and from work (I walked everywhere; in fact I only took the taxi once and that was because I was late for a dinner with my team). I saw lots of dogs. A lot of them barked at me, but some of them trotted cautiously over to sniff me. I realized they're curious, skittish beings (at least the ones that don't routinely tear children apart), and that they are great at reading body language and facial expression.

Jedi masters, in fact.

I became even more fascinated when, in Germany, my colleague's dog bonded with me immediately and fell asleep in my lap. I was startled by the speed of his trust (or just a general chill disposition to life, now I've come to know dogs better), but I thought to myself: "I have much to learn from this dog with a Greek name I have now forgotten".

I returned to Nigeria from Germany, and in my vicinity there was a matted, hopelessly untrained dog named Kobe. He smelled, pissed everywhere and listened to not a single command.

Yet, we got along swimmingly. He loves being in fast cars, and I love to drive fast.

In my former apartment at Primewater, I had a neighbor whose dog, Juma (I hope I spelled it correctly) got into a yelling match the first time we met, and that same evening he humped my arm (to completion, I fear). We became guys from that moment on.

Oh, and here's Gus—my dear friend's grumpy gentleman.

Jasmine is no longer in Nigeria (she's alive!) but she, at some point, was a pitch-black beacon of hope in the blinding tunnel of human existence.

That is my dog familiarity roundup. Thank God.

It took me a long time to decide on adoption because:

1. I did not want to buy a pet (I do not support the buying and selling of animals, even though I eat meat. I am a work-in-progress. Let's say I apply my principles as conveniently as possible).
2. I was concerned that I would get a pet and realize I am stressed by them, and that I do not like them very much. Yes, I was as worried as an expectant mother.
3. I also did not believe myself stable and steady enough to give a dog the attention, time, and routine it requires.

A few days into adopting Boy, I was already exasperated. He was pooping about the house, peeing in discreet places (he's quite shy), and just generally slinking about. I thought we'd never get along and was glad that the shelter was amenable to a trial run.

I continued to feed and take care of him, and we were mostly cool. I played a stern father while he played a frightened son, and so we were wary of each other.

Then I had to take him in for a neutering, and when I came back he was so sad. He cried the entire trip home, and I could no longer be the chief constable I tend to be.

From that day until now, we've become rather warm, as you'll see.

He's a very good dog. If he ever calls you on the phone to say he needs money for his startup, wire it, no questions asked. I can vouch for him.