I was here first. Before Riley, before Silly. Before the cold-blooded Sushi, Koji, Freya, or the now-dead Elda. I was even here before Boomer, but he is gone now, fortunately. There were others before me, but they are all long-gone, and no longer matter. I am here now. I was here first.

Sushi, Koji, and Freya bother me little. They live in thier own little bubbles of worlds, and only distract or frustrate my friend when she takes a moment to feed them or clean out the bowls. I have nothing against fish.

Silly is a grey, pesky feline not much smaller than me. At first, my human friend pretended to dislike the small cat, but she grew fond of this Silly, and so she, too, sits in my friend's lap from time to time, and she will be purring and absolutely pampered. I hate cats.  They tend to put me on-edge. If I were bigger, or perhaps if the claws of the common feline weren't so sharp, Silly wouldn't be a problem. I really hate cats.

Riley is a big dog, some sort of herding mix, apparently. She's dappled, a bit calico in color, and comes in a variety of browns, blacks, greys, and whites. What's wrong, however, is that she is not even a year old, yet she towers over me! Full of energy and mischeif, she tries her best to annoy me.  I try my best to intimidate her and let her know who's boss. Unfortunately, I grow less and less convincing every day.

I am called Snickers... a small dog, golden and white in color, with a characteristic swirl in my thin-but shaggy tail. I resemble a Chihuahua, or perhaps a Welsh corgi with a tail, or maybe that tribal, African besengi. I am old, and tired, and I enjoy the companionship of humans over any other animal. I enjoy the company of my human friend the most.

I enjoy watching her furiously tap away at the special TV she calls "the computer." I watch her amusement, her frustration, her passionate concentration on images on the screen. I love to watch her stare at the objects she calls "books." She'll unfold them and her eyes will scan the surface, even more intently than she does on the computer. Sometimes, she will laugh at what is in the book, or her eyes will grow wide in fascination or horror. Sometimes, she'll spend hours at her desk scribbling, scratching, marking away... creating her own images and telling her own stories. And I am always there underfoot, napping and listening to my friend's imaginings until Riley or Silly interrupts her concentration. They take away so much of her attention these days. But I was here first!

Despite the competition, she seems to loves us all so much. I think I can see that sometimes. She worries about our health, though she can't afford all the expensive treatments we would need to be at our peak (and she apologizes for this, too). She hates to see us fight, and somehow we tolerate each other's company when we are near her. And sometimes, on special days, she will take me for a car ride, just the two of us. Then I will nuzzle into her lap, and look up into the warm face that greets me and the gentle hand that pets me. I may be only a dog, but I know what she means when she says "I love you." I often become overwhelmed by the words and try to lick her face, and she laughs, saying "Your breath reeks, but I love you."

I was here first, but, most importantly, I am loved.