^This^
Himself would not be here, let alone be ‘hubby’ if my pack had not roundly okayed him the night I met him, back in 1993.
The Ibizans checked him out first and when they deemed him worthy, I turned 2 Dobes and Pit loose on him.
To my surprise, they did not eat him.
He’s been here ever since.
Love me, love my critters.
I can just see that conversation.
(Himself leaves the house; you turn to the pack)
“You didn’t eat him?”
Doggie grins abound.
“You’re not telling me you like the guy?”
Tails wag and thump the floor.
“I guess I’ll have to marry this one. I can’t believe *all* of you like him. What a trea-—No! No! I didn’t say-—fine. Let’s all get a treat.”