Listen, I didn’t always have two humans. Life used to be simple—just me and Dad. We had our rhythm: morning belly rubs, long afternoon walkies, and evenings filled with snacks and Jerry and George and the other Kramer. It was perfect. Just us two. And then… she happened. At first, she was just a face on a screen. I didn’t think much of it. Dad would stare at his glowing rectangle, laughing… “Oh, she’s so funny,” he’d say. “She loves dogs!” That should have been my first red flag. Then, one day, she appeared IN THE APARTMENT. I was not consulted. There she was, in my territory, smelling like… I don’t know, hope? Intrigue? Betrayal? She tried to pet me immediately. Amateur move. I did what any self-respecting dog would do—I gave her The Look. I heard dad say “don’t worry, he’ll warm up to you”…. Pshh fat chance. Dad was my guy. And I wasn’t about to share him with just anyone. But she didn’t back down. She kept coming around—something about a “pandemic” and “quarantining together.” I don’t really get those words, but I do know she kept showing up. Eating snacks. Sitting on our couch. In my spot. And then the biggest surprise of all—we moved. To a whole new house. Together. Again, I was not consulted. But you know what? The weirdest thing happened…she started growing on me. I tried to stay strong. Really, I did. But she gave me treats. The good kind. She figured out all my favorite belly rub spots. She started taking me on longer walks, and shared her tennis ball collection with me. She kept telling me how much she loved me. She even snuck me bites of her food when Dad wasn’t looking. I mean… who was this lady? And one night, I was curled up next to her, completely content, and it hit me—I loved her. She wasn’t here to steal Dad. She was here to love him, and me. And let’s be honest, Dad—he was happier with her around too. I could see it. He smiled more. He laughed louder. He looked at her like she was his favorite thing, second only to me, of course. So as you can see, life’s been pretty great since we let the lady in. We hang out all the time. I occasionally rearrange the pillows on the couch for them (which they still don’t appreciate nearly enough), and we all live as one big, happy pack. And now—they’re officially getting married. I won’t be there for the big day (something about “no dogs allowed” and “venue rules,” whatever that means), but I’ll let it slide. I know where my place is—right here, waiting for them with my tail wagging and my whole heart ready. Because at the end of the day, I didn’t lose Dad. I gained a second human. One who knows just how I like my ear scritches, who always drops a little food “by accident,” and who loves me like she’s always been part of our story. And if you ask me, I think that’s what makes a real family—not just who’s there from the beginning, but who stays, who chooses you, and who makes you feel like home. So go get married, you two. I’ll keep the couch warm.