Today is International Dog Day, and I have so many dogs to celebrate now and from the past. I cared about them all, some more than others, most definitely.

My most favorite is my Fifi, a tiny, 7-pound, ugly-cute mop of fluff. She’s a mix of Shih Tzu, some terrier, and possibly chihuahua. She just turned 10 years old but she still runs around like a pup sometimes. Usually, she prances about when I praise her as she comes back into the house after doing her business outside. She loves being called a “good girl!”

I practically take her everywhere with me — grocery stores, hospitals, museums, movie theaters, restaurants, on a boat, to parties. Usually, I don’t have to hide her because she’s so tiny and doesn’t make a fuss.

Ever since she was a puppy, I took her with me to my work in San Francisco. I’d put her in a doggy carrier while I rode my bike to the train station. Then off the train, we’d take the bus in the city to my office.

She’s gotten used to crowds and city noises all around. Firecrackers going off on the 4th of July don’t even bother her. She’s just a happy, content little camper as long as she’s with me.

During the day, she’s always around me. And she knows we’re about to go somewhere when she hears me open my wardrobe doors to get dressed. She comes running out of I-don’t-know-where, excited and frisky, as if to say, “I’m coming, too!”

Every night, she sleeps with me. Unless she gets too hot, she always nudges her way just a little bit under the blanket, then turns around and curls up right in the crook of my arm, her chin settled right below my shoulder.

I got Fifi years before my two little ones were born, and I always say to her, “Remember the good ol’ days, Fifi, when it was just you and me???”

Because those were damn good times, alright. Hella fun! And we went everywhere, all the time, together. I guess we still do. I just hope I have a few more good years with this beloved little munchkin.