Why I'm Glad I'm Not A Dog

I never really appreciated my life until we got a dog. Now there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think, "I'm so glad I'm not a dog!" After hearing it so often, my husband suggested I make a list of my reasons. So here are my top ten . . .

1. I will never be found sitting under a table during meal time begging for food.

2. I don't have to be put on a leash to go for a walk--and then have someone drag me along when I'm not going fast enough. (Although my walking partner might want to do that:-)

3. When I have to "do my business" no one is standing over me watching and then saying, "Good job!!" afterwards.

4. And speaking of "doing my business" . . . when it is raining outside (like all day today) I can stay inside instead of having to run out in the rain to the grass.

5. I will never be caught smelling people, or other disgusting things.

6. You will never find me drinking out of a toilet.

7. I will never have to be kennelled.

8. No one makes me roll over, sit, beg or jump before I can have a treat.

9. Chewing on shoes/bones will never be my favorite hobby.

10. I can eat chocolate!!

Life is good!!

Meet the Newest Member of our Family!

Well, we never really thought it would happen. I mean for 27 years Wes has insisted our house be a pet free zone. We never really understood why he was so opposed to furry creatures, probably some childhood trauma related to several of their dogs dying, but all conversations about pets always ended with him saying, "You know how I feel about this. I am not going to discuss it." He even insisted it was part of a prenuptial agreement that I have never actually seen and definitely never signed, but in addition to the no pet policy includes the right to lounge on the couch all of New Year's Day watching football games.

So when my son found a stray abandoned in the desert and said he was giving it to us, we didn't really expect Wes to agree. Ryan and Kali already had two dogs and their house couldn't hold a third so they were eager to find a home for their new puppy. (Ryan had previously rescued another dog he gave to his in laws so they weren't an option.) Yet, every time Ryan would mention bringing the dog to our home, Wes would emphatically say no.

Yet, here we are, the proud owners of a black dog named Lacy. We don't know what kind of a dog she is, but she is now ours--or more specifically, Michelle's--since Michelle has been given the responsibility to care for her.

Michelle is my fifth and last child and in a couple weeks will be our only child at home. For the next three years she gets her parent's undivided attention. (And she is so very much looking forward to it. :-) Apparently this, and the fact that Ryan just dropped Lacy off at the house and left while both Wes and I were gone, has led to her now being part of our family. Wes was not particularly happy about it, but after a small lecture on how he was not going to be the care giver, he has been very sweet and kind. And in fact he, Michelle, and Lacy can be seen walking together in the neighborhood early each morning.

And Michelle is getting a bit of an education. She has already learned that caring for a dog is much more work than she anticipated. Not only does she get to walk, feed and bathe the dog and get up in the night to take her out for a potty break, but Lacy seems to have some abandonment issues, and so Michelle is now never alone in the house. Every where she goes, Lacy goes with her. But school starts on Monday, which means Michelle will be gone and Lacy will be my companion. And then I get to walk her, feed her and take her out side to pee.

Lucky me!! :-)

And . . Woe Is We!

We got home from piano lessons yesterday and were hit with a blast of heat as we walked through the back door. Apparently at some point in our absence, our air conditioning unit stopped working. The downstairs unit was out last week and now it appears to be the top unit's turn. Unfortunately, our kitchen and bedroom are upstairs. It was 114 degrees outside, and probably close to 100 inside (our thermostat only measures to 90). I found chocolate bars we brought back from our trip melted in the cupboard.

So, I will be calling yet another repairman this morning. And until he arrives either hibernating in the basement or finding somewhere air conditioned to go. Life is filled with unexpected little surprises!

You want to talk about . . . puppy poop????

My son recently married, and with the marriage came a little toy poodle named Daisy. Daisy is NOT a manly name and a toy poodle is definitely NOT a manly dog. So Ryan, who was deprived of a dog in his youth, decided he needed a dog of his own, a boxer named Diesel. Now Diesel is a name a man can use in public without being embarrassed.

Only now Ryan calls me on the phone to talk about, of all things, puppy poop--how often, where it is found and the texture. Seriously. If I tire of this conversation I can always call Camille, and talk about her daughter Carly. At three weeks of age the topic invariably seems to come around to poop as well. “All she does is eat, sleep and . . .” You get the picture.

I remember as a young mother I felt overwhelmed with diapers and baby babble. I looked forward to the days when my children would grow up and be able to carry on intelligent conversations. And they did. But then they got married . . .

The cycles of life, I suppose. :-)