Hey There, Sandy Girl

So, we got a dog.  Her name is Sandy (the boys named her).  She is about 40 lbs., a lovable mutt with short brown hair, floppy-ish ears, sad-looking eyebrows, and a long wiry tail.  Her ears actually remind me of Sister Bertrille's hat in The Flying Nun.  She is one and three months, still somewhat of a puppy, and yet when she lies down on the floor she kind of grunts--more like an old lady.

Sandy had a good first Christmas.  The grandkids were here so there was lots of food spilled to lap up and general stickiness, plus all the excitement.  When they were gone I noticed she seemed extra affectionate towards me for a day, maybe thankful we didn't send her away with the rest of 'em.  Anyway, she got lots of presents.  After the first couple she actually made her way under the tree and grabbed out the last squeaky dog toy by herself--she recognized it as hers.  It was a moment of great pride as Ron and I beamed at each other congratulating ourselves on her brilliance.

Sandy, Mrs. Sanderson, Saundra, Sandy Pants, or Sandy Beaches Underfoot (as my daughter Lindsay named her) is called by many names.  She may also be referred to as Shtinky, Da Baybay, Moy Boyboy, Wittow Gowow, and other ridiculous embarrassing things even too stupid for me to print.  But we all do it, don't we?  Act like weirdos and talk baby talk to our pets/kids/I don't know who else--when nobody's around.  Once the window was open when I was doing it and I didn't know it.  Sure I felt dumb, but at least I wasn't screaming my head off at somebody like an insane maniac, because I never do that.

For years I wouldn't get a dog even though the kids wanted one more than anything in the world, of course.  I thought a dog would be a major pain, wreck everything, be disgusting, and also I seriously doubted my ability as a dog owner based on my performance in the past. (I have had two previous dogs and neither time did it go well.)  But I have been pleasantly surprised.  A huge help is that my son has taken on most of the responsibility for the dog, well at least 65%.  Plus, my husband gives her a bath once every week or so--outside with the hose--Don't worry, we live in a warm climate.  He does this because she truly is Shtinky about that often.

Anyway, we had to get a dog when we moved here.  It was the only consolation I could offer the kids big enough to overcome some of their sadness at leaving the only home they'd ever known, and their friends.  It wasn't as tricky as I had feared, finding a good dog at a shelter.  It was a bit rough at first, because she had a couple of health scares.  But once we got through it, I thought, "Why didn't we get a dog a long time ago?"  And I am pleased to find that being old gives me the advantage of having a lot more patience than I did with the last dog.  So things are going well, and she is a real joy.  Silly, funny, cute, eager-to-please, warm, playful, Wittow Sandy Gowow.