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Sometimes when we’re cruising down the road in Uncle Lamar’s old truck, Cali gently rests her furry chin on my shoulder, as if to say, “Thank you, Amber, for driving me around.” She does this to my husband too, and it melts our hearts every time.

And Cali doesn’t really enjoy being outside with us because buzzing insects freak her out a bit, but if I open the truck doors, she’ll sit on that center console for an hour, perfectly content to watch me cut grass, weed a flowerbed or sweep off the porch. The truck console is her safe zone— her happy place.

Uncle Lamar’s red truck may have hurt my Yellow Jacket pride initially, but watching Cali claim her spot and smile her doggy smile every time we head out together? Well, that makes it worth every mile we’ve traveled and all the miles yet to come.

So yes, our golden retriever is having an affair with an old red truck, and while I’m genuinely happy that she’s found true love, I’m a little saddened that she seems to love the truck and its console more than she loves us. I wonder what Uncle Lamar would think of all this.