A Girl and her Dog....

Yesterday some of you thanked me for reminding you not to get a dog. I feel a little guilty. I can't deny that it can be a huge pain, Sally has cost us big time in both time and money - but she was our first baby. We got her from a shelter on the Friday before Thanksgiving, 2 months after we were married. She was 9 weeks old. Her entire litter had been abandoned, and she was the last puppy adopted. We weren't the first to adopt her, but the first family returned her because their son was allergic. We brought her home and she did nothing but sit in my lap for days. She wouldn't even respond to a cookie or ball. Hubs worried that she was too placid. Um....no.

The dog is a runner. A jumper. A world-class chewer. I won't bother to inventory the household items she destroyed in the early days before we crated her. (Always and only when we left her alone...she had a massive case of separation anxiety that lasted almost 5 years.) Suffice it to say that the list includes a sofa and a fire extinguisher.

The Princess was born when Sally was 2 years old. We weren't sure what behaviour to expect from our pooch, but any jealousy she may have felt was overruled by her immense joy at having me home every day on maternity leave. She soon became extremely protective of 'her' baby, and would run to me and bark whenever the Princess cried, and then back to her station at the side of the crib.

Do they look guilty to you too?

The love was mutual. The Princess's first word was 'dog'. And then 'Oh! dog'. And then 'Sal'. She finally deigned to learn 'mom' and 'dad' sometime after that. In the mornings, when the Princess woke up, she would look around the room and call "Dog! Dog!" If I said "Sally's in the other room honey," my girl would start to cry. I'd call "Sally!" and the minute we heard the jangle of Sally's tags the Princess would laugh and clap.

Puppy Love

Just after we'd moved to our new house, when Sally was 3 and the Princess was 1, we dropped Sally off at the beauty salon for the morning. When we got home I put away our coats and looked around for the Princess. She was sitting in Sally's crate, tears running down her cheeks, crying, "Oh dog....oh dog.....oh dog." I had to laugh at those confused little tears.

Hallowe'en '04 - A sheep and a wolf in sheep's clothing

Our dog is good with kids, and has the patience of a saint. When the Princess was about 16 months old she dropped her cookie on the floor and Sally ate it. The Princess was furious. I still see this scene in slow motion. She stood up and grabbed both sides of Sally's mouth and pulled them outwards. She put her nose to Sally's and screamed. And screamed. I was sure she was going to be bitten and I raced across the room to them. Sally just waited until the baby let go, shook her head, and left the room. She hasn't taken food from her since. So yes. The dog is a pain in the ass. But she's our pain in the ass. I can't believe she's 6 already.