I thought I should start this blog because we have a dog. A really cute and nice dog. I didn't really want a dog right now, but we got a dog today. I love dogs, I really love them. I love all dogs. Short, tall, fat, thin, naughty, nice--I really do love all dogs. I like to talk to them in a high pitched voice, and have them sit on my lap, and throw things for them to fetch and give them treats and take them for walks and see what they look like if I make them wear a hat, or sunglasses or my old tee shirt. I like to take them swimming and teach them tricks and hide things for them to find and on and on and on. But I don't like feces and I really didn't think we had time to take care of a dog. I worried that the dog would be anxious and lonely while we were at work and the kids were at school. I worried that the dog would escape our yard and go down into the canyon and not be able to remember to come home. I worried that after working and exercising and taking care of the house and socializing and driving kids to school and dance and piano and gymnastics and swimming lessons and play dates and girlscouts that I would be stressed about needing to walk the dog. I worried that the dog would be able to look into my eyes and see straight into my soul and somehow find me lacking. I worried that the dog would poop on the lawn and I would step in feces.

Despite these very valid concerns, I was subjected to an unrelenting pro-dog campaign from the girlfriend and the two tiny beasts. The campaign was strong, fairly well organized and ended with a signed court order. The girlfriend runs into a certain Justice (the good one) after an exercise class on a fairly frequent basis. They sometimes speak of dogs. Because the pro-dog campaign was going strong and knowing no shame at that point in time, the girlfriend says "Justice Blankety, Blank" (name omitted to protect judicial neutrality/integrity/sovreginty) thinks we should get a dog. Off the cuff, I foolishly state--"Get a signed order, then we can get a dog."

Well of course, the next week, the Girlfriend shows up with a signed order. It attempts to flatter by calling me the voice of reason and it exempts me from cleaning up after or otherwise caring for the animal, but it clearly states that we must obtain a dog ASAP. Now, I'm a woman of my word and an Officer of the Court. I'm damn sure going to pay attention to a signed court order. Plus, I didn't want to be jailed for contempt of court. So we got Gabrella. She's a schnauser.