My name is Ginger Buttons. I am a Jack Russell Terrier: black, white, and tan, sixteen pounds and eight years old. I was legally adopted from the Humane Society and live with my companion in a small house on a mountain.

Buttons is my middle name, given to me by my companion's daughter who heard her refer to my eyes as black buttons. I don't mention my surname which, of course, is the same as my companion's. I think she might prefer to remain anonymous. This is my first venture into the literary.

My companion is a mature person, and spends a lot of time lying on the couch watching TV or listening to the radio. She wears glasses, which is a people thing. She is kind, never scolds, and feeds me twice a day. She also gives me people snacks.

The snacks seem to be coming to an end. My companion's daughter has been making comments about my weight and apparently the TV has said snacks are bad. I don't know about this. It's true my collar got too small my companion got me a new one. But maybe it's just age.

I don't understant this thing about "people" food. Why is it bad? They eat it, like it, and seem to function. Whoever decides such things? Certainly not dogs. People worry about their cholesterol. Why don't they just switch to dog food?

Then sometimes they throw away perfectly good food. Several times my companion put chicken bones in the trash. While she was napping, I tried to get them and had to take everything out. Most of the trash I carried outside to the front yard. I knew I shouldn't scatter it on the kitchen floor. We do live here. Anyway, they picked it all up and the yard looks fine. This won't happen again. She doesn't put bones in the trash anymore.

Actually, I'm very neat in some ways. For instance, my companion gives me her plates to lick when she'f finished eating. I lick them until they're spotless. This is a good thing becasue she doesn't wash the dishes every day. However, she does wash them before the cleaners arrive. She's not immune to the mess, but it's a long standing habit, or so the daughter has said. However, I don't think it's a problem because we have plenty of plates.

My Companion eats her meals sitting on the couch. I wait patiently close by waiting for her to share, which she usually does. She can't eat at the table because it's covered with junk mail. A man who lives here, Rich, brings us the junk mail along with some good stuff. I guess it's worth it.