The news I never had a chance to tell you

Did you get the weather report from Hell on February 12 of this year? I ask because it would be a memorable you. Think back. Ahhh, yes. There it is. You remember now. It was snowing in Hell that day, wasn't it. Yes, yes it was.

After fifteen years of quiet needling by yours truly, and at least three years of begging from the boys, Don finally gave in. We adopted a dog.

This is a huge deal in our family. Don once stormed out a of a lake house on a weekend away with friends because someone told him, "if you really loved your kids you would get them a dog." (Luckily that was one tense 3 hour drive we didn't have to make, because he calmed down.)

Don doesn't have what you would call the "animal gene". When he was a boy he was attacked by a cat. He spent a few days in the hospital with wounds so deep that he could see the tendons in his hands. I imagine that was a pretty sight. Since then he has had no interest in having a pet. He didn't want to do harm to animals, of course, but he didn't want one in his house, either.

I don't know what happened around Christmas of 2010, but he told me we should think about getting a dog. I cautiously looked at pet adoption websites, wanting to find a dog who needed us. A good friend helped me look, and suddenly we found her.

A yellow lab mix who really needed us. She had belonged to a wheelchair bound woman who had lost her job. The woman took all five of her dogs to the vet and asked him to put them to sleep. She just couldn't care for them anymore. The vet refused, but placed with with a rescue organization. Our girl was the last one left.

She was painfully shy when we drove to the farm to meet her. She was scared of us, and terrified of the boys. We heard her story and learned that at about eighteen months old, she had never had a family. She had always just been another dog in big pack. No one had ever treated her with the kind of love that a family would. In short, this beautiful girl needed a family. She needed us.

We adopted her on February 12, 2010. The boys named her Ramona Geraldine, because the family loves reading the Ramona Quimby books together. She has come a long way. She loves me, and she adores Don. She is getting better with the boys, finally letting them pet her and play with her. She passed her Canine Good Citizen test when we took her to beginners obedience classes.

After fifteen years of demanding that we would never have a "beast" in our house, what does Don think of our Ramona?



Why, he absolutely loves her, if course! No one spoils her more than Don does. (Did Ramona get a bite of steak tonight? Does she need a treat? Does she need a belly rub?) I'm not saying "I told you so" though. Sometimes you just smile, show him the picture, and let him see for himself.