Follow around like a puppy

I'm pretty sure that everyone who survived middle school has been accused of following someone around like a puppy, but I had no clue how literal that really was.  I get up and go to the kitchen, Jacques follows me.  I go sit down at the table, he lies down at my feet, I go out on the balcony, he walks right with me.  It makes me think that he lives for nothing more than some munchies, a head scratch and a belly rub.  Come to think of it, that sounds like a pretty awesome life.