The P Man.

Oh Patton. You drive me insane but I cannot imagine life without your buoyant, jovial, eternally loyal and protective presence. Oh, I forgot to mention goofy, boisterous, baby-toppling, and my-face-in-your-face?

There is nothing but joy and emo-boy love emanating from this 100lb killer.

Also concern for his family, a drive that guarantees he is on the job, 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 52 weeks a year. I've hollered at him for barking while Alexandra is napping, and you can see, literally see the distress on his face, from having to do one job wrong: either guarding the house, or listening to me. He looks panicked, distraught, he face upturned to regard mine while his satellite ears are trained towards the door. It looks, actually, completely opposite from this:

Ah, a happy boy. The entire family, including the damn cat, is outside, under his obsessive, watchful eye, and the baby is, for once in his life, not trying to take bits of dog food out of his mouth so she can eat it.

Life is good. Let's horse around! All I have to do is say "Go get your bed!" and Patton attacks.

I tried so hard to capture a photo of Patton doing the death shake on his dog bed, but it just got more and more difficult. So, I'll just give you the rest of the photo shoot:

Damn, it feels good to be a dog-ga.