Every morning, when I step out of the shower and into the kitchen, I am greeted by the Bedlam Farm Treet Posse’s president, Bud. He is always out front, followed closely by Zinnia and then Fate, holding the rear. Bud is the boss here.

Bud has never cared about being yelled at; Zinnia is sensitive, and Fate is careful about pestering me. I’m grumpy when I’m working, and they get that.

Bud doesn’t care; he is our fearless, rat-killing dog. The other two are sweet and loving, but they also know how to stay out of trouble—we don’t like being pestered in our own home. But the truth is, how can you look into those three pairs of eyes and say no to anything?

They are wonderful dogs, and we love them all. Bud barks excitedly and then leads the charge into the treet cabinet. They get their treats: Bud First, then Zinnia, then Fate. Those eyes speak of love and joy; I can rarely bear to disappoint them. They give so much and ask so little.