We still joke all the time that we won the pet lottery with Maeby. Smart, cute, playful, independent – with that streak of disdain that I love about cats – she never once had accidents inside, and cemented herself in our little family with pride and curiosity.

She was too easy. She came home, immediately took to her litterbox, and was happiest in someone’s lap. She’s a little more aloof now that she’s grown up a bit, but has remained – truly – a perfect companion.

I was anxious about adopting a dog. Puppies are adorable, but they’re also sleepless nights, endless frustrations, constant cleaning up, time-consuming to potty train, and with energy that’s impossible to control. Puppies are work, commitment, and confusion; the very, very watered down version of having a kid.

But somehow, we did it again. In the eight days we’ve had him, he:

• has only peed indoors 3 times

• wakes Jesse up in the morning to be let out to pee

• sleeps through the night, in his bed, happy and quiet

• walks on leash like a champ

• learns fast

• loves all people and animals

• rides the bus, no issues

• rides in cars, no issues

• looked at us in the eyes (and a part of both of us shriveled up and died from an oversaturation of total, pure love)

• is gentle and quiet

• is healthy and seems physically robust

• is OMG SO CUTE

But really. I’ve had two dogs in the past, both as puppies. Neither were as easy as Rigby has been, and I considered them both dream dogs, too. (Which they were. They were just initially a little more work.)

So, yeah. Puppy ownership is going pretty well thus far. We’re in love with the little guy.