My first reaction was that of glee. I was reminded that it was this time last year that Gracie found me and that today was her special day (if only to me). Yet in the next breath, I was reminded that Gracie is no longer a puppy and that made me just a little bit sad. That little tinge of sadness only remained for a moment, but it was palpable. For a fleeting instant I quickly went through the statistics of what a dog’s average life span is and how much longer I have with her in my life. Morbid as that may be, the thought of not having Gracie in my life is a thought I can’t bear to entertain. Hearing how Tyler Hamilton had to put his dog down yesterday perhaps put these thoughts more in the forefront of my mind. Whatever made me dive into these doldrums, I quickly shook my head to knock these thoughts loose, because today is a happy and special day, not a sad one.

After spending a year with Gracie, I truly cannot remember what life was like without her. When I come downstairs in the morning to let her out of her crate, I bound down the stairs like a kid at Christmas. I open the door, she stretches and then walks out and immediately flips over for her morning belly rub. While I rub her belly and coo over her as if she were a newborn, she stretches some more and then she’s up and bounding for the door. After a quick walk, now without a leash, we come back inside where I fix breakfast, while she eats hers. Later, when I sit down with my morning manger, Gracie is sitting in “her chair” next to me ready for the errant bite that I share with her. After writing a little on my weblog, or reading one of my current books, we hit the back yard again for another bathroom break. More often than not, Vegas (our neighbor’s dog) makes an appearance and they run around and play while I sit back and watch the show. It’s a beautiful thing to see a dog just being a dog.

She’s my little buddy and this little morning ritual is but one of the many that we share throughout the day. They make my day and when I’m away at client sites, it drives me nuts and I can’t wait to rush home and let her out of her crate and let her run free. If it wasn’t for the fact that she’s a chewing machine, I’d never crate her, but alas that’s simply not an option. Luckily, she like’s her crate and I now have the luxury of telling her “time for bed” and she’ll walk into her crate without objection. She’s just the perfect little dog.

[Cue Michael's Catch Phrase]

“I love her soooo much.”

[/Cue]

Looking over what I’m writing, I realize that this entry is anything but macho. Writing about how I coo over a pet isn’t exactly something we picture James Dean, or Hugh Jackman doing. Maybe Hugh does coo over his dog, but I don’t think he’s going to share that side of him with the rest of the world. So why am I doing it? Because, I just don’t care. I’m like a teenager who’s fallen in love for the first time and is compelled to profess his love by carving it in trees and shouting it from the rooftops. In my eyes, Gracie is the most perfect and beautiful dog in the world and I’m completely smitten and I don’t care who knows it.

They say that a dog is man’s best friend and no truer words have been spoken. The past year with Gracie has been one of discovery, joy and wonderment. She has taught me so much about unconditional love and the joy of just being in the moment reveling in who you are, flaws and all. I never knew that having a dog would be like this, but it’s such a wonderful surprise. I just hope that someday I can be half the man that Gracie thinks I am.

Happy birthday baby.

Since many of you have asked for more pictures of Gracie and because I recently cleaned up all my photos on my computer, I will be posting some new photos soon. I’ve been out at client sites a lot this week, so I haven’t had time at my desk to get them posted yet. I should have them up before the weekend though.

Part of my resistance has been due to Gracie’s propensity for running to greet new people and/or animals. When I have her attention, she usually minds me, but when she’s been on the leash and a squirrel darts across our path, I’m thankful that she’s tethered to me. Walking through the neighborhood during our evening walk, I’ve felt the temptation to unhook the leash and let her run free a little bit, but my overwhelming fear that Gracie would tear off and not come back is too strong. I’d like to think that she’d stay close, but it’s such an unknown and if she were to run away, or get hurt, I don’t think I could take it.

The two of us did go through “puppy training” at the local PetSmart many months ago, so she does have some of the basics down. Then about month ago, I put up kiddie gates at each end of the deck behind our house. My idea was to give her a safe and secure outside area in which to play. In my mind this was the first step in letting go. When I would mow the grass, I’d let her run around on the deck. Since the deck equates to almost half of our backyard, she had plenty of room to run around. At night, if I went outside to smoke a cigar, Gracie would come with me and explore while I puffed away. The one thing that came out of all this was that it looked like I had a lot more work to do with the command “Come here.” Gracie was fairly hit or miss on this command and I simply didn’t feel confident that I could get her to obey once there were other things to attract her attention. I figured that there would have to be a lot more training if we were going to try taking off the leash. Gracie on the other hand had other ideas.

One afternoon I was going to the mailbox to retrieve the mail. The front door was open, but the outside screened glass door was still closed. Vegas came to say hello, like he usually does and when Gracie saw him, she went nuts like she usually does. As I walked back to the door, my attention was more on the mail than on Gracie bouncing like a spring behind the screen door. Before I knew it, as soon as I cracked open the door, Gracie was past me like a shot and running down the street. I didn’t panic, but I was scared as hell as I dropped the mail and took and walked back to the street. Trying to remain calm, cool and collected, I stopped at the street and just observed what was going on.

Gracie was running in huge circles around the cul-de-sac with Vegas right on her tail. Her ears were swept behind her head like pig tails as she ran as fast as she could. The had a look of ecstasy on her face as ran and ran and ran. It was as if she had this secret desire to run free. All the times she’d seen Vegas running untethered had built up a deep longing that was finally being set free. Vegas is about 3 times her size, but he couldn’t catch her as she made one lap after another. I simply sat on the curb and let her go.

After awhile she started tiring and Vegas began to catch her a bit. So instead of the long sweeping laps, she began dodging left and right as if they were playing tag. When she was finally getting tired, I opened my arms and yelled “Come here Gracie!” in the manner in which we used to do in puppy class. Her head perked upright upon the sound of her name. Snapped from her reverie, she saw me as shelter, or home base and made a bee line right into my arms. I said a prayer of thanks as I wrapped my arms around her. She was panting and her tongue was hanging out and her eyes were just ablaze with the rush of being so free to run where she liked.

Once back in my arms, I took the opportunity to bring her back inside where she was once again safe and secure. Although the result came out OK, I was still in a bit of shock about the whole adventure. As the day wore on, my mind kept turning over the details looking at all sides of it. What stood out was that she stayed in the general area where I felt it was alright for her to run free. Secondly, she did come when called, so much to my surprise the command did work in the real world and lastly, I did have Vegas’ help. Although I may think that Vegas has a bit too much freedom in the neighborhood, he is a good done and he does follow most basic commands. With the two dogs playing together, I knew that Vegas would come when called and that was a nice backup to have. Even if Gracie wouldn’t come, Vegas would and he’d bring her in by proxy if necessary.

So later that afternoon we gave it another shot. We went outside with the leash on and went out to the street. A quick whistle to Vegas and he was over in a heartbeat. Gracie was bouncing like a rubber ball, but I eventually got her off the leash and off they went again. After all the running in circles, both dogs came over to where I was sitting on the curb and they began to play all around me. I became part of the tussle as Gracie used me as a spring board to jump all over Vegas. Now it was my turn for that crazed look of ecstasy, because is there anything more exquisite than playing on the ground with dogs?

Since that fateful day of Gracie’s semi-independence, we’ve continued to work on Gracie (or is it me?) becoming more comfortable with being off of her leash. We’ve worked in the backyard going up and down the hill and learning where her boundaries are as well as continuing to play with Vegas when he’s around. One great tool that has come in handy is an extendable leash that my Mother purchased for us. It gives Gracie a good 30′ of line and has helped make for a smooth transition. Now when she’s on her leash, she has a lot more play and it’s closer to being untethered as possible. There’s still some work left to be done in regards to training. She still has a tendency to charge when she sees another dog, or a cat, or a person for that matter, but she’s getting much better.

I suppose I needed that “jump into the deep end” experience that chance happened to provide. As much as Gracie needs training, I think I’ve needed just as much time to get comfortable with the idea. It’s still a little scary to unhook that leash and let her go. Yet as soon as I see that look on her face when she’s free as a lark, it’s all worth it.

After a long day at work, Holly had a function with an organization she belongs to, so it was almost 10pm when we got home. After going through the usual routines of sorting the mail and shrugging off the gear from the day, I plopped down in the chair to catch the end of ER. Holly made the comment, “You want me to let Gracie out of her crate?” My mother had come by the house around 7pm to tape “Friends” for us and to walk Gracie, so I said “Sure.”

All dogs have quirks and Gracie is no exception. One of her quirks is that when you open her crate, you have to pet her belly before she’ll leave it. She gives you this dog eyed look that says, “Why did you leave me in this cage? Don’t you love me? Prove it to me by rubbing my belly.” Sometimes she’s so ready to get out, all it takes is a quick pass; however some days you could be rubbing that tummy for a good minute before she’s ready.

On this particular night, Holly didn’t have to do anything. She opened the door and BAM – Gracie was out like a shot and immediately jumped into my chair and was all over my face. It was as if she were made out of springs as just bounced all over me. I had to take off my glasses so she wouldn’t scratch them up as she jumped around and pawed at my face. When I’m away, she’s always happy to see me, but she’s never been THIS excited. With this “Where have you been?” expression and excitement, we tussled in the chair until she was calm enough that I could rub her belly and we could relax once again. Clearly she missed our usual routine when I work from home. So what is our usual routine? Well, it’s nothing fancy, but it goes something like this…

Our bedroom is upstairs, so I come downstairs and take Gracie out for a quick walk so that she can pee. I leave her on the leash and hook it to a chair that she has claimed as her own. It has a beach towel in the seat, so as not to stain the cloth cushion underneath, and as soon as we walk back inside, she hops in “her” chair. I fill her bowl with water and food and then proceed to make breakfast. As I cook for Holly and I, Gracie normally eats her food and then settles back into her chair.

With breakfast served, I sit down at the kitchen table next to Gracie and eat my breakfast. When I used to eat less healthy and larger portioned breakfasts, I would share some of my food with her. Now that I’m on South Beach, I don’t eat as much as I did, so I tend to eat everything and I don’t share as much with her. So Gracie will stand up in her chair a little bit and tap her foot as if to say “Awww come on. That smells good. Share a little why don’t cha?” With my breakfast eaten, I now put down the plate in her chair and let her lick up what remains. She licks the plate clean and then settles back and relaxes. I usually write a little bit on my weblog via an AlphaSmart Dana Wireless (like I’m doing right now) and Gracie chews on a bone, or just sleeps.

Next I take Gracie for another walk. This time it’s a little bit longer so that she will do here “No. 2″. We usually walk down the hill a bit in our backyard and after she’s done, we’ll race as fast as we can up to the back door. I’m usually out of breath, but she’s just getting started. Once inside, I take off her leash and she sprints for the upstairs to see if Tumini is out from her room. She never is, so she hops downstairs to see what’s keeping me. By this time I’ve grabbed my Dana, my French Press coffee pot and coffee mug and I’m making my way upstairs. Gracie beats me to the top of the stairs and runs into my office. I drop off the load I’m carrying and then put up a child’s gate and the end of the short hallway, so that she doesn’t have full run of the house.

At this point, I usually settle in and begin working. Gracie likes to lay at my feet under my desk while I work – that is until Tumini starts making a ruckus. Tumini, our youngest cat, hasn’t been integrated with the rest of the pack just yet. So she’s taken over the guest bedroom which is right next to my office. When she hears Gracie and I in the office, she begins meowing and pawing at the door. Eventually I break down and let Tumini out and shut the door so that Gracie can’t get in and make a mess.

As soon as Tumini’s head is out the door, Gracie is all over her like white on rice. Those two roll around and tussle on the floor until Tumini decides that she’s had enough and hops over the baby gate. All Gracie can do is stare at Tumini on the other side, so she walks back into my office and lays down on the floor with her eyes on the gate waiting for Tumini’s return. Throughout the day, Tumini hops back and forth and the two play incessantly. Occasionally they rest and just sleep next to each other, but that only accounts for about 10% of their time together.

I work at my desk non-stop until my stomach convinces me it’s time to eat lunch. This can range from between 1pm and 3pm, but there’s been days where I work straight through. When I do eat, Tumini and Gracie run around downstairs while I eat a quick bite of lunch. When lunch is over, I make my way upstairs and everyone follows up without asking. I put up the gate and get back to work.

When Holly gets home, that’s usually the “work whistle” to let me know that my work day is over. I lift up the child’s gate and we all run downstairs to greet Holly. I usually say something like “Mommy’s home!” or “Go get Holly!” and we bound down the stairs. With my wife home, it’s time to start fixing dinner, so I take Gracie for a quick walk and then repeat the process of leashing her to the chair while she eats her dinner and I fix ours. Just before I’m done cooking, Gracie is ready for her second walk of the night. With that out of the way, we sit down to eat and watch a little TV.

Gracie sits in the big chair with me, usually chewing on a rawhide bone, while I watch TV and/or work on my laptop. With Holly sitting on the couch just next to me on the right and Gracie sleeping next to me in the chair on my left it feels like a little slice of heaven. If I’m lucky, I’ll nod off and drift to sleep and it’s some of the most relaxing sleep you can imagine. Eventually it’s time for bed and I’ll put Gracie in her crate and she’ll reluctantly go and curl up on her doggie bed. Holly and I pad upstairs and call it a night.

Being with Gracie for the day is a lot of fun. She makes the time past so quickly and she’s always ready for a quick tummy rub, or a roll on the floor. Sometimes I just break down and leave my desk and crawl on the floor with her for a few minutes before I’m tugged by deadlines back to the keyboard. I’ve always believed the saying that a dog is man’s best friend, but until this past summer, I never really understood it’s meaning. Gracie is like my best friend and those days where I’m able to stay at home with her are some of my happiest. Man, I love my dog.

I went outside to check on this little kitten and saw that he/she had some worms but otherwise seemed healthy. It looked like none of the other cats on our block and our house backs up to a pasture, so I couldn’t imagine where this cat came from. I went and bought a small bag of kitten chow and the kitten just gobbled it up. Clearly it was hungry. What were we going to do?

We couldn’t bring the kitten in, yet we couldn’t ignore the cat and not try to take care of it in some way. I suggested that we take it to the vet and get the basics taken care of and that we leave it as an outside cat. Holly seemed OK with this idea, although she had some reservations because we have coyotes and hawks that could see this cat as a nice and tasty treat. Deep down she wanted to bring it inside, but knew that she couldn’t.

I took the kitten to the vet a few days later and they said that the cat was female and then asked what her name was. I said it was Tumini, pronounced ‘too many’, since we already had too many pets as it was. They gave her a shot, a de-worming pill and some other stuff. When I asked how old she was, they said about 6 months. I was shocked. The is kitten was so tiny, I would have never guessed that she was almost full grown. They said that we could get her fixed now, but given the financial impact of Monkey’s treatment, we would wait for a later date.

On Halloween, all of our neighbors were outside so we asked around and no one knew who’s cat it was. Everyone else was feeding Tumini as well and when they found out we were feeding her, they were happy to know that they could stop. I tried to suggest to all our neighbors they they could take her in, but none seemed interested. All the inns were full. When Holly heard what I was doing, she said ‘Why are you trying to give our cat away?’ Our? I didn’t know that Tumini was our cat now. She explained that her name is now Tumini Ashby, according to the vet, and why would we want to give our namesake away? Oh for pete’s sake.

Later, our next door neighbor, Judy came by and we picked up the cat conversation that the rest of had had earlier. Where’d this cat come from, is it your cat, that sort of thing. Judy then got a look on her face and said she had a confession to make. She had been in Birmingham and going to a restaurant when she saw this cat. There were no houses around and clearly no one was taking care of her, so she brought the kitten home with her. Once home, Tumini did not like being inside and made quite the fuss. In addition, her other cat Monkey Doo, didn’t get along with the kitten at all. Giving up, Judy let the cat live outside, but she said that Tumini really didn’t want to have anything to do with her and didn’t even hang out on her deck. She apologized for unleashing another cat in the neighborhood that needed care, but she didn’t know what else to do.

So the mystery of how Tumini came to our house has been solved, and now she is part of our daily routines. In the morning after walking Gracie, I put a little food out on the window ledge in a bowl and she now greets me on the deck like clockwork. At night we leave the garage door open just a crack and she sleeps in the garage. One morning, when waking early to work on my bike, I found where she likes to sleep. She found a box with some bicycling clothes in it and has made that her bed. It’s right next to the water heater so I think it’s a good, warm place to sleep. She is so tiny and such a sweet cat, we’re glad that she calls us home.

Earlier this week we took Monkey to the vet for some more blood work. The purpose of the tests were to see if the his liver levels had lowered to the point of being normal. When we admitted him to the hospital, many of his numbers were in the 1000 range, when they should have been in the 150 range. His last test showed that all of his liver levels were back to normal. Woo hoo!

The doctor even made the comment that he’s never seen a case like this turn around so fast. He didn’t know if it was the supplements (which was a new addition to the typical treatment), or the special care we gave him at home, but figured it must be a combination of both. The doctor said normally at this stage the parents are at their wits end, the cat is not eating, doing a lot of vomiting and still yellow. Monkey is none of those things and we are oh so happy that we’re not the norm.

We’ve been able to reduce his feedings to 3 times a day now. He’s eating his normal food again and everything appears to be back to normal. We have another test next week and I have a hunch that they may remove the PEG tube that is installed in his stomach. If that happens, then all the special care ends and he goes back to being a normal cat. I know he’s got to be ready to get rid of that cumberbun.

I want to thank everyone that have posted comments, sent us e-mail, and passed on words of encouragement and prayers. This was a very scary time for us and it was very reassuring to know that we had friends and family surrounding us and supporting us in our time of need. Thank you.

Update 10/28: Took Monkey to the vet this morning and they pulled his PEG tube! We have to monitor him for another week or so before we put him back “in population,” but it looks like he’s made a full recovery.

With his feeding tube still in place, we have been feeding him every 4 hours by injecting his food directly into his stomach with a syringe. The food is called A/D and it’s a canned food that you can only get from your vet. We mix it with water and then draw it into the syringe. In the morning we have to add antibiotics and supplements into the food. At night, we add just the antibiotics. The vet originally said that we had to do the feedings 4 times a day, but given the amounts of food that we have to give him, it’s worked out to 6 times a day and sometimes as many as 8. It seems every time I turn around, it’s time to give Monkey more food.

Luckily, the procedure is fairly simple. First, I take an empty syringe and draw from his feeding tube. This lets me know how much food is in his stomach. If it’s mostly clear then it’s empty, if food comes out, then he’s still digesting. From there, I take a syringe of food and being injecting his dose. Originally I was using a large syringe that held about 65cc, but the plunger was so sticky that it was next to impossible to use, much less feel any resistance from the feeding tube itself. So I began using two 35cc tubes instead. I can always get the first tube injected, but I have to be careful with the second one, once I feel that he’s getting full. After the food, I have a smaller syringe filled with water and I flush the tube with about 5 – 10cc. This entire procedure takes around 5 to 10 minutes. If he becomes full during the second syringe, then I come back in an hour or two to complete the feeding.

This has thrown my daily routine into a bit of a chaos. With the constant feedings I can’t be away from the house for very long, so I’ve been squeezing client visits in between. Also sleep has been rather sparse as well. Take yesterday for example. I began Monkey’s feedings at 7am and throughout the day he had a total of 7 feedings with the last one starting at 1am. I had a client visit this morning, so his first feeding today was at 6:00am. I figure God is just giving me a taste of what having a newborn is like, so this is good practice.

So how is Monkey responding to all this treatment? Well, I’m happy to say that he’s doing quite well! We’ve kept him sequestered in the guest bedroom to limit is mobility – we don’t want the feeding tube to pull out of his stomach. He’s been using the litter box regularly and he’s even shown an interest in eating. He hasn’t eaten a lot, but he’s been eating a little more each day. This is fantastic news! On top of all this, he seems to be in good spirits and more like himself.

Today we have another appointment with the vet to check his blood work to make sure that he’s still getting better. There are two levels that they have been testing in his blood. His ALP was at 1037 when we admitted him to the hospital and it’s now at 592 as of Saturday. His ALT was at 658 upon admission and was at 224 when we picked him up. Both should be in the 100 range though for him to be back to normal. We’re hoping that they may be in the 400 range this afternoon.

So how much longer is the treatment? Well, that all depends on Monkey, but we’re expecting to continue this treatment for another 12 weeks. Hopefully it will not take as long since it really impacts what Holly and I can do. If we can’t maintain his feeding schedule, then we’ll have to re-admit him to the hospital. Given the fact that we’ve already spent more than $1000 in the past two weeks, we’re hoping that we can keep him at home as much as possible.

I want to thank everyone who has kept Monkey and our family in your prayers, not to mention the kind words that you have posted either here in comments, or via e-mail. Holly and I greatly appreciate it. Lastly, I took a few pictures over the weekend and you can find them on the moblog.

They are going to insert a feed tube into his stomach so that they can feed him directly as well as put him on a fluid program. After 4-5 days after that, we should be able to take him home and continue the feeding through his tube until he starts eating on his own. This could take as long as 12 weeks or more before he decides to eat on his own. The most important thing is to get his liver to begin coming back to normal and that’s why he’s staying in the hospital.

I think the additional fluids and vitamins will make all the difference and he’ll round the corner this week. However, having to leave one of your pets at the vet is one of the worst feelings in the world and Holly isn’t taking it too well. The cloak of doom has descended and until we get word that Monkey is doing better, I don’t know if anything can lift it. The doctor saying that we had a 60% chance that he’ll recover didn’t help any. I see the 60% and Holly sees the 40%.

So, as silly as this may sound since I’m talking about a pet, please keep us in your prayers. We’re praying for a fast recovery and that he’ll be home very very soon. Thanks.

Update: We went by this morning to look in on Monkey and he’s doing great. He has an IV attached to his wrist and they’ve been giving him vitimans in addition to his fluids. He was very perky when we visited him and quite active. I took a couple of pictures and posted them in the moblog.

I learned of all this from a phone call after Holly visited the vet. Throughout the call, Holly was sobbing and having a hard time getting the words out. To make matters worse, she was on her way to work. She had some big deadlines that had to be met and she couldn’t be out from the office. Since the fluid procedure would take at least half an hour, she asked if I would pick Monkey up from the vet. It tore me up to hear Holly so upset and to know that there was nothing I could do about it to make her feel better. After Holly came home and even up until the visit to the vet the next day, Holly beat herself up about being a bad mom. It’s human nature to do this, but nothing could be further from the truth.

The next day at the vet’s office, Monkey had an ultrasound and the vet said that everything looked good. His liver did not have cancer. They didn’t take a biopsy because of some bruising from the fluid injections the day before. That was ok, because neither Holly or I are big on biopsies, they often cause more problems than they solve. The vet wasn’t 100% sure that Monkey had Feline Hepatic Lipidosis, but that’s what everything appeared to be pointing at, so that’s what he wanted to treat.

Here’s what we’ve been doing for the past couple of days:

1. 30 minutes prior to feeding, I give Monkey an appetite stimulant, which consists of half of a pill as well as 1/8 of a Pepcid AD pill.

2. Three times a day, I feed Monkey 30cc’s of baby food from a large syringe. I should say force feed because he doesn’t want to eat the food. It’s not fun, but it has to be done in order to get his liver to snap out of the condition it’s in.

In addition, we’ve been spending a lot of time with him. Gracie has been in her crate a lot and we’ve been sleeping in the guest bedroom with Monkey alone. He has to be our priority right now, so we’re giving him all the time and attention we can.

On Monday we go back to the vet to do some more blood work. That will tell us how his liver is responding to the home treatment. If it’s not, then we’ll either have to install a feeding tube into his stomach, or we will have to let the vet administer treatment there at the clinic. As it stands, we’re hopeful that what we’re doing will work. Luckily, this is not a typically fatal disease and Monkey should bounce back from this just fine. If he does, he can get as fat as he wants.

The only real downside to this momentus occassion is that with a dog and two cats sharing the bed it’s getting a little crowded. We have two other cats and if they were to join in, I don’t know where Holly and I would sleep. We have a queen now, but Holly says she’s been keeping her eye out on a king size.

Oh and it case you haven’t seen them yet, I put up a new gallery entitled Gracie’s First Bath.

When Gracie sees one of the cats, she wants to play, so she gets a little bouncy and hops around a little bit. The cats see this as a threat, so they hunker down, growl and hiss at her. After a month the cats haven’t figured out that she’s trying to play and Gracie hasn’t figured out that they don’t like her.

Our hope has been that they would somehow find a middle ground, then we could all live happily ever after. Right now I’d settle for a good nights sleep. I’ve tried to have Gracie sleep on the bed with us, but she just won’t leave the cats alone and Holly and I can’t take all the bitching from the cats. Finally, at 3am this morning, Holly and I agreed to put Gracie in her crate. I hate to do it, because she’s in her crate for most of the day when we’re out working, but what else can you do?

We did have one good night sleep with the dogs and cats and that was about a week ago. All the cats had bailed on the bed and were hiding in the master bathroom. Gracie had fallen asleep and then the cats slowly snuck back onto the bed. I was dead tired and didn’t stir all night (which is rare). We all slept together in perfect harmony until 6AM. That’s when Gracie woke up and all hell broke loose!

She’s been an absolute joy to have in the house and she has such a great disposition. While I worked yesterday, she slept at my feet and didn’t make a peep. Oh how I have missed having a dog! The only negative was that she started whining and scratching at the door at 3:15am this morning. Until she’s integrated with the rest of our pets (4 cats), we’re keeping her in the downstairs bathroom when we go to bed. So when she started making noise, I woke up and I took her for a walk outside. When she was done I put her back in the bathroom, but it wasn’t long before she was whining again. I tried to ignore her and let her get it out of her system and go back to sleep, but after 5 minutes, I just couldn’t hold out any longer. I walked back downstairs and let her out. I slept the rest of the night on the couch with her and she couldn’t have been happier.

Small price to pay to have her in my life.

About a year or so ago, I started making plans to get a dog. I love our cats, but I was ready for a dog. So, like most men would do, I bought a few magazines and books on the subject and began researching what kind of dog was right for me. That’s the thing with choosing a pet versus having one show up on your doorstep, it becomes much harder choosing the “right” dog. I think I made it harder on myself because I began thinking of the old addage that a dog and it’s master begin to look alike. That was certainly true last night watching American Chopper and seeing Paul Sr. with his Bull Mastiff. With that in mind, all my thoughts have been on finding a cool dog. I want a dog like I envision myself to be, not what I’m truly like. I’m just glad there’s no such thing as a couch potato dog.

So today I arrive at one of my client sites nice and early and I’m greeted by a furry little puppy. They have a large home office and it seems that they found this dog last week and it’s been making the rounds throughout the neighborhood in search of a home. The thing is, I had seen this dog before. A few weeks back, as I was leaving this client’s office, I saw a small puppy playing with some children at the corner of the street. I was instantly struck by how cute the dog was and almost stopped to ask, but I was in a hurry and just kept driving. My first thought when I saw the puppy, was “this is the same dog!” :O

All the while I was doing the work I had been called in to do, everyone was pressuring me to take the dog home. Although I wanted nothing more than to do just that, Holly and I had not discussed it and I just couldn’t see her saying yes. There’s too much going on right now and we’re in the middle of a tiling project, yadda yadda yadda. Besides, I’ve used up my “get out of jail free cards” with some bicycle and gadget purchases that were not discussed before hand, so I knew my luck was up. I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to resist the urge to scream yes at the top of my lungs and rush home with the little dog.

On my way home, I called Holly to let her know how strong I was. I told her the whole story and my intentions were to simply get a pat on the head for being so strong. However, when Holly said in her oh so sweet and gentle voice, “Michael, if you want the dog, you can have the dog.”, my jaw dropped. I was in shock. “I can have the dog?” I asked. “Yes..” I don’t know what she said next, because all I could hear was my tires squealing as I slammed on the breaks and turned the car around. Back at my client’s office, I bounded up the stairs in search of my client. I must have had a goofy grin on my face because of the employees said, “Are you getting a dog?” in a gesture of happy teasing. 5 minutes later we were driving back to my house.

I’m not an expert, but my best guess is that she’s a Cocker Spaniel with maybe something else mixed it. Holly thinks she could have some Irish Setter in her too. I don’t know that I ever would have picked this breed from all my books and magazines, but she seems perfect to me. So, what’s her name? Well, I named her “Gracie” because it was by the grace of God that she found me.