• For the chance to blog here.
• For my 16 year-old dog Flavio still being able to walk, eat, and smile.
• For my 7 year-old dog Rico, who’s birthday is today (though he is a beef-brained, bumbling pin ball who would jump into a furnace if I threw a cookie in there).
• For having the chance over the last 22 years to save thousands of troubled dogs from the grim reaper.
• For having the good luck to publish 18 books over the past 18 years, and for the people who buy them.
• For hardly ever being bitten.
• For finding Lou, my brother- the Last Dog On The Hill, in the wilds of Mendocino County in 1989.
• For the friends who count, and appreciate.
• For my family, as nutty as they are.
• For my old man, a WWII vet who, about to turn 90, is still working (you don’t want to know).
• For the mystery dog who for the past ten years has left an afternoon turd in front of my home.
• For Jimmy and Satan, the kibble-loving crows who poop on my car.
• For the trainers who mentored me so long ago.
• For not getting shot in Culver City in 1991.
• For not being allergic to pets.
• For my fear of rabbits and clowns.
• For crazy people who rescue dogs- especially in the Third World.
• For veterinarians.
• For dogs who learn to do good things all on their own.
• For dog lovers who don’t treat their pets like kids or trust fund babies or lovers or gods.
• For those who don’t think dogs are simpletons who will change bad behaviors just for a cookie.
• For any soldier, or soldier’s dog.
• For search-and-rescue crews and their magnificent canines.
• For any dog who works to keep us safe or happy.
• For my country.
• For Nicki. 
• For Old Yeller, Rin Tin Tin, Lassie, and Hachi.
• For the ability to live in a country where I have the luxury of loving a dog.
• For my Uncle Mike, killed by a tiger in 1945 in Bangladesh.
• For Uncle Tony, who survived Omaha Beach, France, Patton, and the Battle of the Bulge.
• For bulldogs riding skateboards.
• For the sweet old dog who smiled at me on the street twenty minutes ago then walked away.