Entrant's Name
Laura

City and State
State College, PA

Your Pet's Story or Bio
I didn’t grow up with animals—unless you count the goldfish my brother and I won at the Erie County Fair in New York. That aquatic marvel defied all odds and lived well into my college years. But then came Bub. My first Newfoundland. And suddenly, life had fur, drool, and a whole lot more heart.

Fast forward to today, and I share my world with two glorious, bear-sized companions: Gabe, age 12, and Oliver, age 4. They’re both Newfoundlands, which means they’re basically walking throw rugs with emotional depth and a flair for dramatic entrances. Despite their shared breed, they’re as different as a serene lake and a rogue tidal wave.

Gabe: The Gentle Statesman
Gabe is the elder statesman of the household. He’s never been much for water—an ironic twist for a breed known for their lifeguard-level swimming skills. Maybe he read the job description and said, “Hard pass.” But give him a trail and he’ll walk it like he’s on a pilgrimage. For over a decade, he’s been my steady companion, with a heart that refuses to age and a tail that still wags like it’s auditioning for a parade.

These days, Gabe prefers short strolls, ideally ones that pass by admiring neighbors who know him by name. He’s basically the mayor of the block, minus the campaign signs. Occasionally, he’ll chase his tail like he’s trying to solve a mystery, or dash off to play with Sadie, his bernadoodle bestie, in a burst of youthful nostalgia. His eyes—those warm, soulful brown eyes—are always thrilled to see you, even if you’ve just returned from the bedroom. He’s calming, protective, and still magically appears whenever the refrigerator door creaks open. His sixth sense for snacks is stronger than most Wi-Fi signals.

Oliver: The Furry Hurricane
Then there’s Oliver. Formerly known as Kevin (a name he clearly outgrew the moment he discovered his inner chaos gremlin), Oliver is affectionately nicknamed “Animal” from the Muppets. And yes, the resemblance is uncanny. He’s a 150-pound puppy in denial, with the energy of a toddler who just discovered espresso.

Oliver hasn’t met a human he doesn’t love—or expect to be adored by. He greets strangers like long-lost relatives and assumes every hand was made to pet him. But if someone gives off even a whiff of sketchiness, his bark could send a UPS driver into early retirement. He’s learning to swim, which is a bit like watching me try to do the breaststroke. But he’s improving, and his determination is matched only by his ability to cannonball into any body of water with zero grace and maximum splash. Every day with Oliver is a comedy show. He’s a lovable whirlwind of fur, slobber, and joy.

Living with Newfoundlands is like living with two oversized teddy bears who moonlight as emotional support therapists and part-time comedians. They’ve taught me about loyalty, laughter, and the art of finding joy in the everyday—especially when that everyday includes a trail of drool and a paw the size of a dinner plate.