No doubt, Joyce Morales said, west highland white terriers are the objects of her adulation.

"One hundred percent. I'm always with them," Morales said flatly on Saturday, two of her five terriers tugging their leashes in downtown Coeur d'Alene.

Daily, Morales fluffs them and combs, keeping their coats shining like snow under the sun. She has relinquished sizable sums of money on plush dog beds, tiny sweaters, vitamins, top brand dog food.

"People will say, 'Your dogs are in better shape than you are, and I say, 'sure,'" the Post Falls terrier breeder said. "With bathing them, grooming them, making sure they're good, I'm on the back burner."

But their happiness is her happiness, she said. They love to settle in her lap, trot after her from room to room, and growl to warn her of strangers.

"They're such a joy to me," Morales said as she coaxed them toward Dog d'Alene, the Coeur d'Alene Downtown Association's annual event to celebrate all things canine. "If you're into your dog, that's what it takes."

Saturday's event, a meet-and-greet for dog owners stacked with events like a dachshund dash and a sheepdog competition, was an appropriate fit for Kootenai County.

After all, dogs are omnipresent companions in Coeur d'Alene and surrounding towns, with pooches seen diving after sticks in Lake Coeur d'Alene, and trotting steadily after hikers up Tubbs Hill. In town, window shoppers grasp leashes like a bouquet, and sling purses from which fuzzy heads protrude.

Dog d'Alene seemed a tribute, more than anything, to the common love threading local dog owners together.

"We take them wherever we go," said Angie Crawford, a Chihuahua dozing in her arms as she ate lunch and talked up her family's four dogs. "We like pet friendly restaurants."

"And hotels," said her husband Kurt Farnsworth, adding that the dogs accompany them swimming, hiking and boating. "Coeur d'Alene is cool, because places don't charge a surcharge."

They don't want their dogs to feel neglected, Farnsworth explained, adding that it's rewarding to dote on creatures that don't filter their love.

And dogs make pleasant, open-minded companions, Crawford said.

"They're always happy," she said. "They don't care if you've gained a few pounds. They're good."

The blue plaid collar on dachshund Jazzy was chosen to match Britney Harris' shoes for their jaunt to Dog d'Alene.

They made an elegant pair, the dog serving as both happy companion and fashion accessory.

"(Jazzy) is spoiled rotten," admitted Ethan Dodson of Coeur d'Alene, who owns the dog with Harris. "In the car, if someone's in the backseat, it's one of us, not her."

It's not for superficial reasons they give the rescued dog every comfort, he said, like a roofed doggy ramp from the upstairs of their home to the backyard.

Jazzy is simply too sweet to ignore, he said. She's loyal, gentle. Timid to the point that she's eerily quiet even when she plays in the yard.

"She's not needy at all. She's just kind of ... happy," Dodson said. "It's how we all want to be treated, and if we can give that kind of love to an animal, it's worth it."

Tom Hannon held back his samoyed Sosh, desperate to lunge forward and sniff every passerby.

Training to be a show dog, Sosh is not so much a pet as a sidekick, Hannon said, loping beside him on hikes, tugging him forward on cross-country ski trips.

"Training a dog, you have to train yourself, too. It's like having a little kid," said Hannon, from Spokane but member of a Coeur d'Alene club of samoyed owners.

But his fuzzed cohort serves as a badge of pride. Where some parents love to talk up their kids' reports cards, Hannon lauds successful training techniques.

"It's like when a child gets A's in class," Hannon said, adding: "He's on Facebook."

It's all fruitless without companionship on the side, Hannon acknowledged.

"I can't tell you how it feels when you're just sitting late at night, and a little snuggly, fluffy thing sits on your lap and needs some TLC," he said. "It's hard to explain."

As dogs at the event tangled leashes, owners cooing over similarities, Don Mitchell sat apart from the hubbub with his dachshund.

Mitchell gleans companionship from his dachshund, bichon and toy poodle, he said, since his wife died a few years back.

"They're my whole life," the 83-year-old said. "I don't have any girlfriends."

The Coeur d'Alene man relies on the pups for protection, he said, insisting that despite their size they can definitely hear intruders.

And after the dogs have been so long in his company, he added, nestling close beside him in bed, watching him garden, they are acutely aware of his senses.

"The other night I was watching a movie, I thought I heard my wife's voice in the hallway and I turned," he said. "All three of the dogs turned, too."

Man and beast, they're all in it together.

And they always will be, he said.

"I couldn't live without them," Mitchell said.