by guest blogger Maya Rodale. When I was 21 years old, I made a list of reasons why I can and should have a dog of my own. A few months later, Penelope arrived. A few days after that, I called my mother crying. Penelope was adorable, but she was an evil demon spawn that wanted to bite me to bits with her tiny, razor-sharp puppy teeth. In spite of thoughts of throwing her out the window, I vowed to love this dog if it was the last thing I ever did. Love took a year—a long year—during which Penny trained me as much as I trained her. Here’s what I learned: