Our family added to its brood the other day. On a whim I approached a nice girl at work and told her that I wanted a puppy. (she had Chihuahuas for sale. It’s not like I went up to her and demanded “hey you, nice girl at work. Produce me a puppy cause I want one”.) I brought it home, much to everyone’s surprise, and we immediately fell in love and adopted him as one of us. (God have mercy on his little soul.)
The name. We went rounds with the name. “What should we name him?”. “It should be something cute like Tyke or Spike.” . We decided since it had to fit in with the big dogs and get along with his new big sister, Moxie, he needed a gallant name. Something with purpose. Tungsten? Maximilian? Apollo? Quasimodo? We took into account that he is really going to replace a focused void in our kids lives now that their best friend and Grandpa has passed (one month ago the 25th), and decided to honor that with the biggest name we could think of.
George.
My father’s name was George and he was a mighty important man. Our little dude has some big shoes to fill with these kids, and what better way to remind him of that.
Now, George, the dog, is not a sleeper. No. That dog can run for HOURS at no end. Funny thing. he can also fall asleep, if he chooses (which by the way, he rarely does), at any moment and at any place.
No kidding. I have found him asleep on my desk. On my chair. In my shoes. Wierd places.
My only wish is that he would sleep in his bed, at night, when we are all sleeping.
No.
Nope.
Nada.
He is all yaps and howls and cries and whines.
Think of a newborn baby that cries, but add about 4000 decibel to that and a chalkboard being scratched, all at the same time.
I would love nothing more than to have the little dude sleep on the bed with us, but frankly, I think we’d lose him in there or one of us would roll over and crush him. Sleeping in our bed is like an Olympic event. We both seem to move around. Allot. To the point that I am not sure how we manage to not end up on the floor at some point.
Georgie is going to have to learn that Momma needs her rest. She needs to sleep as soundly as possible. She needs to not hear the crying all night. This is why I have no more small children.
George better get it together.
Gates of Grace 