© Herhold FamilyGerry, Scott Herhold's dog, will turn one year old on March 12, 2010.
You are, perhaps, surprised that I can write. Let me clear that up. I have a ghost writer: my human.
Unusual? I guarantee you the Dog Whisperer, Cesar Millan, has a ghost writer. A guy who spends all his time around dogs needs one. So bury the skepticism, please.
You may know my story: I am a yellow Lab, born on March 12, 2009, in Bakersfield, a good place to be from. In a conspiracy engineered by my human's two sons, I arrived at my new San Jose household last Mother's Day, a surprise to my human's wife, Sarah.
For obvious reasons, her approval has not come easily. I'm a 75-pound Lab: I've dug a hole in the backyard and trashed the lawn. I've eaten a bicycle pedal, chewed the pillars of the house, barked noisily and destroyed two sets of earphones.
Sarah thinks I'm unaware that she sometimes refers to me as the "DD," for "damn dog." When she hands me a treat, she'll sometimes drop it in fear. But the other day, as she arrived home, I heard her say distinctly, "Hi, baby!"
"Hi, baby!" I think I've come a long way. Not as far as I'd like, but still, those two words bespeak an achievement for the canine race.