Gracie’s been busy as ever. Playing with BrightSide, going for walks with the kids, romping with the other dogs at doggy daycare while we’re out of town…and managing to wreak her own special brand of havoc when the chance arises.
Here’s what our girl’s been up to since her last update:
** A bowl of turkey chunks. Sadly (for her), Gracie didn’t have enough time to eat them all. As a compromise, she contented herself with devouring a few pieces while licking everything in the bowl.
** Tissues. Tissues, tissues, always with the tissues. Kleenex ought to be paying us dividends at this point.
** Bear’s Sunday School craft. You know those crafts kids present proudly when you pick them up from the classroom? The ones they worked diligently on after learning the day’s bible story? Yep. That was the craft Bear left sitting on the entryway table and sure enough, that was the craft Gracie carried behind a chair for gnawing.
I can admit it – I’m ridiculous when it comes to these dogs. I mean, Gracie eats anything that’s not nailed down and Phoebe can be as jealous as a toddler. In the end, though, it doesn’t matter what havoc these guys wreck. I’m like a cult member who’s drunk the Kool Aid. Dogs Rule.
And yet, when I look around this house and see the damage they’ve done…well, there are days it’s a miracle I haven’t thrown them out the front door and said good riddance.
Some moments are etched indelibly on my memory. The day I looked at BrightSide and knew, way down in my bones, that I loved him. The morning I fell into T-man’s liquid brown eyes and discovered an entirely different kind of love. The evening I held Bear for the first time and realized I was equal parts enthralled and terrified by this tiny being.
And then there are times when your dog leaps out the car window like superman.
Oh, Gracie…our sweet, adorable, scampish, bullheaded, never-met-a-thing-she-didn’t-want-to-eat Gracie.
If you’re a long time reader, you know what’s coming. If you’re new to RFTM, welcome aboard the Gracie crazy train. We keep a running tally of her dietary hijinks around here. No embellishment necessary.
Our pretty, peculiar, puzzling, and perpetually attention seeking Phoebe…
If ever there were an example of a dog who doesn’t fit the mold, our Phoebe is it.
Okay, so who else has been totally bummed out by the last two days at RFTM? Trust me, my name’s at the top of that list. Thank you for sticking with me – for reading, for adding your thoughts, for the words of encouragement – it’s helped. Not made-it-all-magically-delicious helped, but helped nonetheless.
So can we please, for the love of all things holy, shift gears into something less doom and gloom? (“Sure! Why not!” says the quietly chirpy voice in my head.)
I’m grown, I’m responsible, I’m in charge of important stuff. And yet, it seems, the list of things I Just Can’t Handle continues to grow.
» Dusting my house top to bottom. Why do I hate this? Let me count the ways. The dust makes me sneeze. It returns mere hours after I’ve removed it. God did not give me the patience necessary to dust around knick knacks, picture frames, and books. It involves far too much reaching and bending. Plus no matter how throughly I think I’ve done it, there are always (always!) spots I’ve missed.
It’s not uncommon to hear cries of “GRACIE!!” echoing through the house at all hours of the day. Morning, noon, evening – it depends on when her scamp level is at its highest, and then you just have to pray any damage inflicted is relatively contained.
Let’s just say some days that works out better than others.