Some dog lovers marry into dogs. Others seek solace in a warm canine embrace soon after leaving the dorm or getting divorced. Then there are those who are to the kennel born. Me, I was very post-married and long through with school before I took the pooch plunge — and discovered how quickly a small, alien creature can rearrange your DNA.

Frankie, a rescued mystery mix of indeterminate age but very determinate cuteness, took up residence with me in the fall of 2004. I’m happy to report that, after a stint of freeloading, he’s beginning to pay for his kibble.

Early success: A piece on our adventures together ran in Bark magazine, the doggie New Yorker (as its more pretentious readers — and writers who are published in it — like to call it). And a wrap up of a few places where I shop for his toys, which ran in Tucson Guide, led to the illustration of Mardi Gras Frankie by photographer and dog-lover extraordinaire Amy Haskell being sold to Borealis Press. (I’ve never been a big fan of Thoreau, but Frankie didn’t object to the company using a quote by him.) That piece, in turn, helped me nab an assignment on home decor tips for dog owners, published in Tucson Home.

Stories in Your Dog, the newsletter of the Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine, came next. I learned everything I need to know about shedding  (Frankie doesn’t do it) and more than I wanted to about inflammatory bowel disease  (Frankie doesn’t have it).

Thus emboldened by my growing knowledge of all things dog, I pitched the idea of a humorous advice book for novice dog owners to Alpha/Penguin — and lo and behold: Am I Boring My Dog is going to be published in 2009.  More details to come. First I have to finish writing it.

In summary: Although he initially gave me a case of DRSI (Dog-Related Stress Injury) as a result of sitting on my lap and resting his little head on my hand while I typed — lap-warming is now confined to nonworking hours — Frankie remains my muse.