My name is Amy, I’m 37 and live in Smyrna, Georgia with my husband John and our two small rescue dogs, Chewy and Missy. Missy is a 10-year-old Jack Russell who looks like Wishbone. Chewy is a 6-year-old terrier mix who very much talks and looks like his famed Star Wars namesake when his hair is grown out. We had another dog, a very beloved and missed long-haired dachshund named Louie, but he passed in November 2018 after 15 very fun, adventurous, well-loved years. I’m the person who can’t pass a dog without petting them and telling them how cute they are (and they are all "cute puppies" to me, no matter their age). I love to cuddle with my dogs, play fetch, rough-house with them (when they’re up for it), and take them for walks. I don’t mind being covered in hair since my dogs’ fur is interwoven in my clothes and life in general. I feel like what makes me stand out is that dogs find me trustworthy. Chewy was very anxious when I first got him (he’d been adopted and returned several times by others before I adopted him) but he loved to cuddle with me right away, and after about a month, he allowed me to hold him in my arms but not carry him or pick him up. Four months in, he let me hold him, carry him, rub his belly, cut his hair (!), and at ten months in, he often falls asleep in my lap and climbs up to my shoulders for a hug after breakfast every morning. I took it very slow with him and let him know he’s safe with me. I feel like he knows now I’m his forever mama, which makes me so happy and want to cry.