This week it was Mr. Pants's birthday.

So Matt texted me and gave me some birthday party info and said that Mr. Pants specifically requested that I be there. And I was like, "that's so dumb. He doesn't even know what a birthday is." But I was also kind of like, "OMG did he really say that?!"

So I headed toward the party location at the proper time, getting stuck in rush-hour traffic on the way. I didn't think it would matter that I was running late because surely nothing time pressing happens at a dog birthday party. Then Matt asked where I was and texted me this:

And I was like "no. We are not these kind of people." But then I got there ten minutes later and found out that we are these kind of people.

And we had an amazing birthday party.

Mr. Pants got to open his presents.

And then he got to go outside and play with them.

And then he got so tired and fell asleep on my knee because he's only two and that's what happens when you're only two.

One of my favorite things about Mr. Pants is his talent for snuggling.

And his ability to just go with the flow at all times.

And somehow be the life of every party.

When I first met Matt nearly two and a half years ago, he talked constantly about getting a dog. There was a period in which I was legitimately worried he was going to kidnap someone's puppy at the park and I would have to represent him in court. And our only defense would be, "well, because, puppies."

I tried to talk Matt out of getting a dog, telling him they are too much work and that he wasn't ready for the responsibility and I think at one point (or many points) I even said, "if you go through with this, I will not support you."

I didn't like dogs back then. I thought they were smelly and not cute enough to be worth the mess they make. Then Matt called me one day and said he had gone through with it. He found a shelter dog "that just needed a good home" and "how could I deny him a good home?!"

I rolled my eyes when he said this, so hard that even though we were just on the phone Matt actually got dizzy and threw up a little. Of course, that could have just been morning sickness.

I took my time getting over to Matt's house to meet this stupid little dog that was most certainly going to somehow inconvenience my life. A couple of days later I finally made the trip to his place after work.

I opened the door. Ollie looked at me from across the room with his little puppy human eyes and his scraggly shelter dog hair, and he leapt toward me, a grin on his face I didn't know dogs could even have. I immediately dropped down onto my knees, in my suit, scooped him up into my arms, and with a smile on my face so wide that it actually connected in the back of my head, I screamed, "I SHALL FOREVERMORE CALL YOU MR. PANTS!"

And Matt just went with the name change. Because I didn't seem like I was going to back down from this.

Mr. Ollie Pants didn't just win my heart for himself. In that moment, he won my heart for every dog that has ever or will ever live.

Because he exists, I now find myself talking to dogs from within my car as I drive by them on the street. I go out of my way at parks to meet puppies I see across the way. And my home and car is filled with dog toys and leashes and dog bowls for pets that don't even belong to me.

I love Mr. Ollie Pants. And I'm forever grateful that Matt Pants didn't listen to my ineffective dissuading.

But more than anything, I am so happy that Mr. Pants makes Matt Pants so happy. I'm certain that this is a big part of why I love that will-always-be-a-puppy-to-me so much. Because I love Matt Pants. And I think I will always automatically love anything that makes that cranky southern 65-year-old-man-on-the-inside happy.

Unless he gets a pet snake.

~It Just Gets Stranger