Seeing as earlier this week was the Nobel Conference, it would be appropriate to write an article about food. Appropriate, but maybe a little too obvious. Instead, I write here about another aspect of food: my dog and how much he loves it.

My dog Bobber gets three meals a day, just like me. Two scoops in the bowl at breakfast, one scoop at first dinner and another scoop at second dinner. You see, my family has split his evening dining experience into two meals to ensure that he does not get too hungry in the afternoon and again later in the night. Yet, he still manages to eat every meal in under one minute. We have timed this. It’s a skill set I admire, acknowledging that I take at least an hour. He also gets the mid-afternoon rawhide chew and a sprinkling of treats throughout the day for good behavior, not barking like a crazy-dog when doing his business outside and anytime I feel he is looking particularly handsome (which is always). His favorite foods include popcorn, cheddar cheese, peanut butter and ice cream.

Okay, so I don’t think I can fill the allotted space solely with my dog’s eating habits, so I will, if you allow me to, kind reader, bare my soul and tell you just how much I am missing my dog right now. Surely you can commiserate with me here?

Bobber is a 12-year-old yellow lab, and I think he is the handsomest, best dog in the world. Every owner says that about his or her dog, and I think that’s OK too. Everyone should think their dog is the best because for each person their dog IS the best. It’s a matching thing, special bond, whatever you want to call it. Bottom line is, Bobber is one of my best friends.

And just as I miss my human friends after being separated for periods of time, either short or extended, I miss Bobber, too. I miss his welcome when I enter my house, his tail twirling around-and-around as opposed to the traditional side-to-side fashion, to which my brothers and I have ascribed the term Propeller Tail. I miss him rubbing his head against my legs like a cat, leaving his fur all over my pant legs. I miss his white eyelashes.

I realize too that this might not mean much to you, reader, and that’s understandable. Maybe you share different interactions with your animal companion; maybe you don’t have a pet; maybe you enjoy the company of cats, fish or horses. (If you don’t like animal companions at all, you might as well stop reading right now, for not only will this column not apply to you but additionally, I wish to not associate with you on any level, even this removed relationship of you reading this column.)

Surely after this fifth week of classes, some of you too are missing your animal companion at home. I encourage you then to GO HOME AND SEE THEM! Despite all the draws to campus life on weekends, nothing can compare to spending time with your non-human friend. You know that. I know that. Go home and snuggle with them. There is a reason I use “animal companion” instead of pet, and that is because, as all animal-lovers know, these relationships are not one of master and subject. Yes, we take care of their bodily needs, but in return they take care of us, giving us comfort and joy.

Bobber makes me happy in a way no one else can, just as each individual friend makes me happy for individual reasons. Now is the time of year wheN I have been away for long enough, and I need that love and joy only Bobber can give me.

So, reader, I thank you for letting me share my feelings, but I wish for you too to remember the happiness you share with your animal companion. Be reunited, I say, as quick as can be, with your non-human friend and be filled with glee!