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I studied under George Singleton for a summer. I was in a small class of just-became-teenagers who were gathered from all corners of South Carolina and not one girl left without a maddening crush on him. He was funny. Smoked a lot. Liked junky garage sales. Wore the same black leather jacket just about every day. Gave a reading in front of a crowd of distinguished guests and said "camel toe" and then chuckled at himself under all the shocked stares.

There's that whole "does my pet look like me or do I look like my pet?" cliché. Though pretty uncanny in some instances, that's not what I mean when I say "our pets are us". If I asked you "Why do you have a pet?" I'd get varying answers (none of which would be "because s/he looks like me!"). Some of us want to nurture, some of us want an excuse to do something like hiking or just plain going outside, others want someone to talk to, a few of us want to feel like a hero, and on and on and on. What we choose to have as a pet says a lot about us, too. Dog? Cat? Bird? Snake?