The Doll

Meet Dolly.  She was born in December 2014 and joined our family in February 2015.  We were told that her mom was a golden retriever and her dad was a standard poodle and her estimated adult weight would be 50 pounds.  We picked this cross because golden retrievers are very smart, loyal, family dogs and standard poodles are extremely intelligent and tend to not shed (which was only a priority because our old dog Meggie was the world's harriest dog and I wanted a break from that).  Although she looks exactly like a golden/poodle should, as far as her facial features and hair quality, it's apparent that her sellers weren't exactly forthcoming.  Or possibly just plain lied.  At 8 months old, Dolly is exactly 10 pounds.  However, she is a great family dog, she is extremely intelligent, she doesn't shed a whole lot, and she's pretty darn adorable.  And we've decided that it's easier to have a 10-pound dog vs a 50-pound dog, anyway.  So we like her.  I'm guessing that her mom was actually a golden retriever and her dad was a miniature poodle.  Dolly was a runt, too, so that might contribute to her smaller stature.  Either way, she's a keeper!

And now, since it has taken me over 6 months to get around to introducing you to her, here are some pictures, in chronological order, for you to get to know her.  Enjoy!

 She really loves her boys!

 This is a favorite napping spot for her.

 Captain is bigger than her, even now that she's older.

 Dolly has wanted to be friends from the beginning, but Captain isn't a fan!  They have been caught playing together a few times recently, though.

 She loves going for car rides!  She even drove with us to Minnesota and back this summer, and did great!

 This is her favorite toy.  <3 p="">

 Her soft hair attracts snow!  That's gonna be fun when winter comes...not.

 Sundog.

 She really does think she's a big dog!  She likes to fetch tennis balls, too.

 Doll-face!

 She's practicing great restraint by not going after Caleb's angry birds.  (She did great this time, but ended up chewing on them another day.  Tisk tisk.)

 She needed identification on her collar for our road trip to Minnesota.  This tag suits her perfectly and has our contact info on the back.

 Sundog again.

 They were both pretending to be polar bears in the zoo.

Dolly is extremely tolerant of the boys (one reason why I wanted to get a puppy and not an adult dog).  As you can see, she really loves them!  She house trained really early and really easily.  She rings a bell whenever she wants to go outside, which, let me tell you, is a genius idea.  The most useful command that she knows is "leave it."  She immediately drops those kid toys when I say it.  She is a fan of chewing on things she ought not to, but she does know the command "where is your toy?" and will find her own toy to chew on when I can tell she just needs something and the easiest chew toys to find are the ones my boys leave laying around.  Because of her chewing habit, she is kennel trained for night time and when we leave the house.  Her favorite things to chew on are stray socks.  She's also a fan of any diapers we leave laying around and baby binkies left within reach.  Thankfully she hasn't done much damage to either of those objects--she normally just moves a binky from one room to the other and doesn't chew on it, except for the one I found just yesterday.  Thank goodness those binkies are dishwasher safe!  She learned quickly that if she chews on human fingers, she doesn't get petted.  She's learning the same with licking.  She also likes to sneak to the basement to eat the cat's food, and always throws it up.  We now have a baby gate blocking the basement stairway.  She's a huge fan of getting brushed and kinda gets manic when I bring out the brush.  I have to trim the hair around her eyes or else she can't see.  She's the prettiest blond color with a darker golden streak down her back; freckles on her nose, belly, and the pads of her feet; and a white spot on her chest and tip of her tail that is very difficult to see.  We're all super big fans of her, and I can confidently say she's a big fan of us.  Welcome to the family, Little Doll!

So Long, Dear Friend

It's amazing what the human heart is capable of.  We invite into our homes a member of another species.  We don't speak their language, and they don't speak ours.  Yet they enrich our daily lives, and when they're gone (and they always go too soon), we realize just how much love we hold for them.

I think love comes through service and sacrifice.  Jesus Christ loves us more than anyone, and he sacrificed all he had for us.  Parents love their children beyond words, because we give up everything for them.  When we sacrifice our time and means to care for pets, we grow to love them.  And together we learn a shared language of love.

And when they die, our hearts are ripped in two.  I've done a lot of hard things in my life, but I think making the choice to end my dear friend's life was the hardest one yet.

I got Meggie for my 14th birthday.  The previous week, my dog (although she was never really my dog, as she bonded closely with my dad) died unexpectedly at a young age.  I was so lonely, so my mom brought me to the shelter to see if there were any dogs there to adopt.  We tried one out, but she wasn't a good fit for our family, so the next day we brought her back to the shelter.  On the way home, I asked my mom if we could stop and see what the pet store had for dogs.  They had just gotten two new litters of puppies in: Meggie, her brother, and three little black puppies (pomeranians crossed with toy poodles).  I immediately fell for Meggie, so I decided that we'd go home and sleep on it and come back the next day to get her.  On the drive home, I thought of a name for her.  I knew she was meant to be my dog.

The next day, we went to see if she was still there.  Of all of the five dogs that were there the day before, only Meggie and one of the black puppies were left.  Someone was holding Meggie, and the moment they set her down, I snatched her up and brought her to the register.  I said, word for word, "This is my dog.  I mean, she's going to be my dog.  We're going to buy her."  So my mom bought her and gave her to me for my 14th birthday.

Meggie was the ugliest puppy you've ever seen.  Everyone said so.  But I just didn't see it.  I thought she was the cutest 4-legged creature to ever walk this earth, and everyone thought I was delusional.  Looking back, I can see she really had the looks that only a mother could love.  My love was so unconditional that I couldn't see it until many years later.

I spent 14 years and 7 months with Meggie.  That's over half of my life!  And the best, most memorable part of my life, too!  I started training her in 4-H when she was 4 months old.  She hated it.  I was a good dog trainer (my previous dog and I were winning awards), but Meggie refused to do what I asked.  She would protest a simple "sit" command.  She wouldn't come.  Sometimes she wouldn't even walk on the leash!  She started avoiding me on Thursday evenings when I would try to put her in the car to go to training practice.  Then I started bringing her to Therapy Dog instead.  She loved going to nursing homes to be pet by the residents.  It brought out her best qualities.  She started enthusiastically jumping in the car when she knew we were going to Therapy Dog.

I gave up on obedience training with her (she was a good house dog, but not a good competitive obedience dog), but I still did 4-H showmanship with her.  That's what I loved, and all she had to do was prance around and look pretty, which she was very good at once she outgrew her awkward stage.  We qualified for the state 4-H dog show many times, but I remember one time in particular.  It was just moments before entering the show ring, and I was full of nerves.  But I must have pulled it together really well, because we ended up winning Grand Champion!  We were the best in our age-group for the entire state!  It was incredible!

She stayed behind with my dad when I went off to college.  Once Nate and I graduated and bought a house of our own, my mom flew out here with Meggie.  Caleb was 4 months old, and had just been home from the NICU for one month.  She was a great kids' dog in her younger years.  She never jumped on people, never licked, never barked, and loved to follow kids around, waiting for them to drop their snacks on the floor so she could clean up after them.  She was the best for taking on walks.  We went for a long walk every morning during Caleb's first two years.

It was a really hard choice for me to have her put down.  I feel like that should be up to God and Meggie, but I just have to hope that she did choose this, and she just needed my help.  I got to hold her in my arms and comfort her while it happened.  It was perfect, yet so horrible.  I just wanted her to feel how much I loved her.  We grew up together.  Really, she was the first dog that I could claim as my own.  She was the first dog that my children ever knew, and I hope they can keep some fond memories of her.

I was once told by someone with great authority regarding strengths that my strength is my ability to love deeply.  I must say, it has been feeling like a weakness lately.  The pain I feel at Meggie's passing is so strong because my love for her was so strong.  This kind of love is what we live each day for, even though it has the potential to cause so much pain.  It was a glorious childhood that we had together, and I look forward to the day when my Meg greets me in Heaven in her wonderful way--running at top speed in giant circles while crying a happy little howl.  It will be a wonderful reunion.

No heaven will heaven be

if my dog's not there

to greet me.

Lots of random thoughts bouncing around inside of my head....

One day Caleb walked past Russell, whose hands were in fists, and gave him "pounds."

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Why oh why do some kids fight sleep so much?

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I have grown to love nursing my baby. I especially love when I change his diaper in the middle of a feeding to wake him up a bit, and his eyes flutter awake...he looks at me and gives me the best sleepy grin in the world. He loves me. :)

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Remember Caleb's Hungry Leg? (The last video on the post.) Well, Russell has one now, too! I'd take a video, but The Leg doesn't get going until I put him on the nursing pillow on my lap, just before he starts to nurse. So you'd have to catch me with my shirt up. And that's not going to happen. But, I love the hungry leg. :)

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Caleb had a little scab on his wrist and the other day he said, "I take the owie off?"

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Caleb loves to spot LDS Temples and Churches while on car rides. There's a cute little children's song about temples and Caleb often requests that we sing it. A few days ago, I heard him sing, "I yove to see da temple..." and then, "for da temple is a house of God...." I'm so proud!

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Caleb is still rear-facing in his car seat (and will be for as long as possible!), and no one can tell me that rear-facing kids don't see as much. Caleb sees EVERYTHING! We talk a LOT while driving. He tells me every time he sees something...a leaf, a bird, a farm, a big truck, a tractor (aka, construction vehicles), a school bus, a horse, a cow, a bike....The thing that he most commonly points out is basketball hoops, believe it or not. "I see a basketball hoop ober dere (over there)!" (Said with great, nay, extreme enthusiasm. And repeated until he gets acknowledged.)

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One word that Caleb uses every few days is "mamenos." I have no idea what it means. (Nate just asked Caleb where the mamenos went, and Caleb said, "In the kitchen." Now he's looking through the pantry. Maybe it's something in there....)

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Since Caleb could say the word "monkey" (about a year ago, I'd say), he has identified the Kool Aid pitcher man as a monkey. He gets very excited when he finds the Kool Aid packets in the pantry, exclaiming, "I found a monkey!" Don't ask me way.

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Four consecutive hours of sleep feels amazing after three months of two to three hours of sleep in a row.

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The most disgusting thing that I can currently think of is when a baby spits up on you while eating. I'm talkin' breastfeeding here, people. Gross.

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One day, shortly after putting Caleb down for his nap, we heard a very terrified cry on the monitor. Nate rushed up to see what was wrong and found Caleb standing there with his hand covered in poop, saying, "Poo-poo hand!" with tears in his eyes. The pointer finger on his other hand had a spot of poop on it. I can imagine what was going through Caleb's mind. He had pooped in his diaper and, out of curiosity, put his hand down his pants to see what was going on. Upon seeing stinky brown stuff on his hand, he gently examined it with the other hand before figuring out that it was...POOP! At which point he cried hysterically until Daddy came to the rescue. I mean, poop is yucky! I'm glad that he didn't think it was paint that belonged on the wall. That would have been yucky.

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When asked by Grandma and Grandpa who his friends in the Church nursery are, Caleb responded, "Lily...James...then Daddy clean up frow up." Yes, yes, Daddy cleans up throw up every week in nursery. Sad, isn't it?

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We bought our plane tickets to Disney World next month. WOOHOO!

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A retired linguist selling Forever Sharp knives in WalMart the other day commented on Caleb's vocal skills. He was very impressed and told me to teach Caleb how to read right away. "Don't waste that!" he said, over and over. I bought his knives. Yesterday I was using one of the knives to slice an avocado. I was two thirds of the way through the pit before I realized that I was cutting something hard. Those knives are amazing. So is Caleb.

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Caleb is very observant. He hears every plane that's flying in the sky whenever he's outside, and he must point it out. "I hear a airplane! [Looking around.] Ober dere! I see a airplane way up dere!" (I think it's about time he learn the proper use of "an.") Just about when you think he's done talking about airplanes, he says, "Dandad [Granddad] flies airplanes." It's true. Smart kid.

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When Russell is hungry, he breathes very fast through his nose before he starts to cry. I wouldn't be surprised if he hyperventilated some day.

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When Russell cries, Caleb says, "Don't cry, Baby Russell. Don't be sad, Baby Russell."

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The other day, we were going on a little drive just for fun, so we brought Meggie with us. She was on the floor in the back seat and for some reason she yelped. Caleb said, "Don't be sad, Meggie Doggie."

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One of Caleb's most commonly uttered phrases is: "I need help, Mommy." Is he really two?

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A lot of the words that start with "s" Caleb pronounces with an "f." We take advantage of that for immature purposes. "What store did we go to that has all of the animals?" "Pet Fart!" "Is Daddy smart?" "Daddy fart." "Is Caleb smart?" "Cay-bid fart." lol Makes me laugh every time!

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The Run-Around

Well, The Kid and I spent a nice morning hanging out at the airport. And then we came home. The Granddad (my dad) is a pilot and we get to fly for free if we go standby. Which, coincidentally, means that sometimes we don't get to fly at all. I guess everyone wanted to go to Minneapolis today. The flights were all more than full, so there was no space for The Kid and me. Sad. So sad.

So, after a few hours of waiting, we decided to get our checked bag and head back home. But wait...my checked bag made it to Minneapolis without me. Stink. I thought there were protocols in place to keep that from happening...? I guess my huge bag slipped through the cracks.

There may be hope that we can catch a flight tomorrow, so I haven't yet filled out the paperwork that is necessary should I want to some day retrieve my luggage in the great state of Utah. But I can't do it over the phone. I'll have to go back to the airport. And then I'll have to go back when my suitcase gets there. Oh, boy. What a run-around.

But at least The Kid was a good sport. He's a good almost traveler.
Just deck him out in toys and he'll be happy.

And all I got when I got home was more run-around. But...this is the kind I like.

Meggie Dog sure knows how to make you feel good about coming home.

Meggie...or Marley?

The Dog gave us a scare.

When she came here from The Northwoods, after she had been here for just over a week, she threw up. Blood. Not all blood, but little specks, all throughout. It scared me, understandably, so I called The Vet from back home. They said not to worry unless she stopped eating and drinking, didn't seem like herself, or threw up bigger blood clots. She looked fine to me, so I just watched her.

A few weeks ago, she threw up blood again. But she still looked fine, so I tried to ignore it.

Yesterday, it happened again. I couldn't ignore it any more, so I called a vet here in The Valley. This morning we went in. The most likely candidate was a tumor. The Vet felt her throat, which he said was very irritated. I was very worried. She's been my dog for ten years. She's so good with kids; I couldn't imagine raising my family without her. So, I did what I do. I showed her love, and then I distanced myself from her. I told myself, "She has to die some day. Big deal." I have some really unhealthy coping mechanisms...I know. The Vet wanted to do some blood work and x-rays, which would take a few hours, so they had me leave her with them.

It was sad going home without her.

A little while later The Vet called--with what he called "interesting" news. Meggie didn't have any tumors, but she had four small metal rods in her digestive system. Not nails, but about the size of small, one-inch nails. All four the same.

Since when did Meggie Dog get an appetite for odd things?

So, now she's on four meds that need given twice a day. As if my child's feeding schedule isn't demanding enough. Hopefully she gets rid of the rods without any further harm to her digestive system. The meds will help with that.

I'm just glad that she gets to stick around a little while longer. We like her.

The (Bother) Dog

Meggie Dog somehow got it into her head that she needs a treat at least once a day. Maybe it's because every day (or every meal, rather) for the past ten years my dad gave her a part of what he ate. Tisk tisk.

We want her to be happy with us in The Valley, so we have been giving her a treat once a day--but no table scraps. One night we were going up to bed and The Boy was calling Meggie to come up the stairs. She wouldn't come. He asked me if she had her treat for the day. She hadn't. And she just would not go to bed without getting it.

When my mom brought her here from Minnesota, the first thing I did when she got into the house was give her a milk bone. She proceeded to hide it. First in the corner of the dining room where we had a paint drop cloth. She tried to dig the plastic over the treat. That didn't suffice. She tried behind the dryer. Not good enough. Then the computer desk. Nope. Then the TV. Nope. I think by that point she either thought there was no threat in the house and it was safe to eat her bone or she was just too darn hungry. She ate it.

Another day I gave her a treat in the middle of the afternoon instead of before bed. I was in The Kid's room changing his diaper and Meggie Dog was in my bedroom with her milk bone. Then I heard The Boy's radio come on. We don't have night stands at the moment (that's what part of our tax refund is for) and The Dog was in the corner behind The Boy's books trying to find a safe hiding place for her treat. She stepped on the "on" button. I turned off the radio, uncovered the bone, said, "See, Meggie, that's not a good place to hide it. I found it. Ha." and proceeded to finish dressing The Kid. Then I heard the radio again. Crazy Dog. I turned it off and Meggie decided that it was best to eat her bone.

Meggie wanting my brownie.

Meggie waiting for her Beggin' Strip. She just couldn't hold still. She never tries to hide her Beggin' Strips. They're just too yummy. She can't risk any other dog finding it. Even if she hides it in such a good place as behind the dryer.

PS--When I told my niece that Meggie was going to come live with us (at that time she was living with my sister's family) she said, "I'll miss her, even though she is a Bother Dog."