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We Got a Dog

11/18/2015

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So when we got home today, I found the new puppy (Luci/Daisy/maybe we'll decide on a name soon) in her crate.  She had an accident.  She pulled the sheet which was draped over the crate into the crate...not sure how she did that...and her accident was somewhat hidden.  She also tore the plastic tray under her blanket into many pieces...it was 15 years old...but still...how?  $42 to replace the plastic.  I threw the sheet out and salvaged the blanket.  She didn't tear up any of her toys.  

Then the kids and I bathed her.  She likes baths.  Then we dried her.  She liked that, too.  Then I got out the blow dryer, and she basked in that.  She followed us around the house the rest of the day, dropping her ball in my lap, whining at the door when the kids left with my mom, and just being cute.  

My thoughts?  She was originally named Valentine, and she was born on Christmas Eve, so her first owner's probably got her around Valentine's Day.  They gave her up because they had to move.  (No judgement here.  Sometimes people think they can care for an animal when they can't.  Sometimes life circumstances change in ways you never imagined.)

Then she spent a little time at the Humane Society where another family adopted her.  They had a bulldog, and the two dogs didn't get along, so after a couple of weeks, it was back to the Humane Society where we found her.  So, in her first year of life, she has lived in five different places.  She may have some anxiety from this.  So, we bought the $42 plastic tray.  We cleaned things and her up.  Tomorrow is another day.  She is now a part of the Reckenwald family.

As I write, with a plate of spaghetti on my desk, she lays on the floor by my feet.  She wants to play, but she is patiently waiting for me to finish or for someone else to come home.  After whatever trials await us, I think Luci/Daisy/Valentine is going to be a good dog.
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    A teacher, a writer, a mother, a wife and a friend.  All people wear what feels like a million different hats at any given time.  In this place, I choose to have freedom.  That doesn't mean I'm not still juggling my hats; it just means I choose which of them I balance on my head as I write.

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