I grew up with dogs: a white German Shepherd named Gabby, a Norfolk Terrier named Jake, and, later on, another German Shepherd named Woody (the latter two were named for Jake and Elwood of The Blues Brothers). These days, my parents have Harry, the Yellow Lab, and Oliver, a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel-but I’m practically the only one among my group of friends who doesn’t have a dog; my hardly-at-home schedule just doesn’t allow it.

The Singles, the Marrieds-they’ve all got dogs; their dogs even have play dates with one another. Emmie, a black Newfoundland puppy, and George, an auburn-colored Goldendoodle, were born on the same day and embarked on a torrid love affair the minute they met. Tibby, a Wheaton Terrier, is practically human. I can have meaningful (if one-sided) conversations with him, and he really seems to understand what I’m saying. Then there’s Dude, a Bernese Mountain Dog who’s the life of the party and the object of a cult-like following in Bucktown. They’re all very sweet dogs whose personalities tend to resemble those of their owners.

This weekend’s West Fest in West Town didn’t do much to help my dog envy. Lots of four-legged fest-goers showed up for Pet Fest, a chunk of West Fest reserved just for pooches, located outside of the bar High Dive (1938 W. Chicago Ave.). A few of my favorites:

George, Jesse (who stood up in his owners’ wedding about a month ago), and Bailey mug for the camera.

Banchi, a 14-month-old American pitbull, is up for adoption from the Chicagoland Bully Breed Rescue.

Dude gets a much-needed bath from SpaBark!, a mobile grooming company.

Dixie chills out at High Dive.