Toby the Puppy became an instant part of our family nearly five years ago. I have two versions of the story explaining how he joined us: There’s the epic version and the 30-second elevator-ride version.

Here’s the latter story: Our great niece found him shivering next to a Dumpster in Amarillo; she brought him home, asked what we should do with him and then, well, after a few days we decided he was ours to keep.

Today is Toby’s fifth birthday. How do we know his precise age? That, too, is a bit of a story.

Upon welcoming Toby into our family, we took him to the veterinarian’s office. She looked him over, then peered into his mouth. We asked her, “How old is he?” She didn’t bat a lash when she said, “He’s 5 months old.” How did the doctor know? His teeth, she said; they’re a giveaway.

She was lead-pipe-cinch certain of his age.

So, that was in early September 2014. We backed it up five months. Presto! That puts his date of birth on or around April Fool’s Day.

That has been the day we have celebrated as Toby’s birthday ever since. I won’t bore you with the epic version of how his arrival into our family unfolded. Suffice to say that given all that transpired with our great-niece as we sought to figure out Toby’s future, the very idea that he would have been born in April Fool’s Day is utterly poetic . . . and just!

We fell madly in love with this pooch right away. He has made us laugh every single day since he joined us.

We look forward to much more laughter.