As promised, a post about puppies:
My youngest girl can’t stop thinking about dogs.
Or collecting dog pictures and dog posters and doggie Webkinz. Or writing school compositions about dogs- specifically one of her dreams about dogs. She has become the adopted “master” of neighbor dogs, and has pictures of them on her shirt.
She can identify most every breed by a picture, accompanied by an interesting fact or two (seriously, they are truly interesting!) and a story she’s read (the Animal Ark series) which features that breed.
Which is quite puzzling, since we don’t have any pets since Goldie, the goldfish she won at the Adams County (WI) Fair died- a full half-week after dropping down some hard-earned coin on a fish bowl, brightly-colored aquarium gravel, and one of those lighthouse decoration thingies that may have been what scared and killed her/him/it.
Items now available on eBay.
I’ve long put my size 11 down, insisting to my kids that as long as we have carpet, we won’t be getting any pets. Never.
But what kind of unfeeling, heartless, soul-less father who loves his daughter very, very much could deny her what has evidently become her life’s destiny? At least her first destiny…..
Accordingly, a new puppy is on his way to our carpeted home. Life as we know it is over.
Allow me to introduce Oreo.
I guess this is where the family figures out that what Daddy says will not necessarily last forever. Just wait him out- he’ll come around.
Have any of you fathers out there been through this phase where some weakness bubbles to the surface and your dear family members (especially those filled with estrogen) recognize the weakness, seize it, bat it around like a cat’s toy, chew it up, and cack it out? Is that what I am to look forward to?
My family is busy de-puppyfyng our home so that Oreo, this precious purebred beagle, can’t ruin- well- everything.
Drapes in the Man Room (the girls call it the living room) are pulled up so not to hang low enough so Oreo can’t chew them. Extension cords are hidden away so Oreo can’t chew them. Shoes in the Woman Room (the girls call it the mud room) are put away in closets so Oreo can’t chew them. Low hanging plants, books on the bottom shelves of the bookcases, cords for the Wii- all being hidden away so that – you guessed it- Oreo can’t chew them.
So much to do before his Easter weekend arrival…
So, what does this has to do with the fire service? Nothing.
Every once in awhile, us bloggers can’t help but post about other things- if for no other reason, to maintain a certain level of normalcy and sanity.
Or does it, Rhett?