Introducing the Newest Addition . . .

After much prayer, and believe it or not, humongous confirmation from the Lord, let me introduce to you . . .

Ruth . . . or Ruthie

We had many names picked out . . . but Ruth was the name that ALL the boys agreed upon.  We thought it was kind of cute since we have a Naomi that was just born.  But that isn’t to say or mean that Naomi is Ruth’s MIL, like the story in the Bible. 

Umm . . . because Naomi is a baby and Ruth is VERY much of a dog. 

I’ll have you know that taking care of a newborn is MUCH easier than taking care of a puppy. 

I’m glad that my dog won’t be in diapers for 3 years, but taking her out to potty every 1.5 hours . . . in addition to getting up to feed Naomi . . . makes for a very tired mommy.

But the SHORT inconvenience will reward a lifetime of blessing and reward for our family. 

We look at our unusual dog as a conversation piece.  It gives us opportunities to talk with people that we don’t know or wouldn’t normally talk with when walking around town. 

There is so much joy in my heart when I see my sons step up to the plate and take ownership of their new sibling. 

I love seeing the dog bound after their heels in the backyard . . . my brain fast forwards 9+ or so years when our first drives a car with Ruth happily sitting in the front seat, when one of our boys is courting a girl and they take Ruthie on a walk together, or even when one of them leaves for college . . . this will be their dog.  The dog they tell stories about.

If you grew up with a dog as a child . . . you know what I mean.  My dog was Toby.  And my adult dog was Mussie.  Their dog will be Ruthie.

During the day they have been responsible for watching Ruth when I am changing a diaper, nursing, or making a meal.  They feed her, give her water, and generously reward her with treats.  They have created tunnels and made her a kennel of pillows.  They have even shared their Ahh! Bean Bags with her . . . (by the way, if you ever have a child puke all over your Ahh! Bean Bags – don’t worry.  They clean up GREAT!  Not that I would know or anything.)

I love knowing that I know that I know we are completely in the Lord’s will by purchasing Ruth so soon after Mussoorie’s death.  The way the pieces fell into place reveal to me that Ruth’s arrival into our family is no accident.  And that our God cares about even the little details in our lives.

In fact, her presence in just two short days has given me a new perspective . . . on our controlled chaos.  And I’m happy. 

She is just a dog, right?

The Hottie and I have had many conversations about our dog recently. 

Obviously, you can see that she is doing well . . . and looking rather regal. No, relaxed.  

No, queen-like. 

Did we make the right decision to have her get surgery?

Was it worth the money? 

Of course, the answer is a resounding yes but still “if” questions linger in my mind.

I claim that we had to allow the surgery.  My fear was that if we failed to attempt to heal her, the next time the kids got sick they might think that we would withhold medical treatment due to cost.

That wouldn’t instill much security in our children.

However, surly they know that she is JUST a dog.  Right?

I mean, dogs eat the same food every day.  They poop outside. They are poor communicators.  They often get left at home.  They have to wear a collar.  They lay on the ground.

Don’t worry, Hottie.  She’s off the couch now.  I just couldn’t resist a little photo shoot when I discovered her up on the furniture.

My Doghter is Home

I called the Hottie this morning to tell him that our daughter was ready to be picked up.

I confused him slightly.  I might have even set off a surge of adrenaline through his veins.  “Isn’t it a little early to be going into labor?”

No, your dog!  Who else would I be talking about?

“Ummm . . . how about my daughter that is growing in your belly?”

Right . . . gotta get used to that!   

Many of you who follow me on Twitter know that our dog had surgery yesterday.  

 

It turns out our faithful, vacuum-like dog who was also our training specimen to prepare us for parenthood, had a mast cell tumor growing on her thigh.  The options were to leave it alone, only to have it multiply in size quite rapidly, or remove the tumor while it remained somewhat local. 

Wanting to be good stewards of God’s creation and appreciating the unique qualities that Mussoorie brings to our family life, we felt that it was only right to give it a shot and go ahead with the surgery.

Poor thing.  She is home now, after a lonely night’s stay at the doggy hospital.  I have never seen her so anxious to get somewhere when I picked her up – that somewhere was anywhere but the hospital. 

Now, she is snoring soundly -- resting on her blue head pillow that is gentler than the plastic Elizabethan collar she was dressed in when I picked her up.

I know.  She’s a dog.  But she is our dog.

Somehow I am supposed to keep her calm.  Right.  She lives with three boys. She’s a lion hunter.  She is ALWAYS searching for food.

I think we will change her name from Rhodesian Ridgeback to Rhodesian Ridgeleg.

Poor thing.

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Mussoorie, the Big Brown Dog

I have failed to give adequate time and attention (on this blog and in real life) to our first child, and probably the only "girl" I will ever have, if you can call her a girl anymore. She is a bit demanding but full of personality. Like right now, she is whining at me. She wants water. At 3 AM, last night, she needed to go outside to relieve herself. Yesterday, she puked Mr. Smiley's poop (who wouldn't) on the carpet (I haven't figured out what she is missing nutritionally). In the winter, she insists on sleeping under the covers, OUR covers. She rides in the front seat, and fits comfortably on the driver's seat should I run inside a store. She is more efficient and quicker than a vacuum; and works well as a substitute washcloth on children's food filled hands. She can be more annoying than a fly at a picnic. She doesn't shed. She loves to snuggle on the couch. She will play dress up. She rolls her eyes, barks in her sleep, and allows the boys to sit on her like a horse. She thinks that she is a 75 pound lap-dog.

By this point, I hope that you have figured out that I am talking about our faithful companion, the Granola Family's best friend, Mussoorie, the Rhodesian Ridgeback.

Her full name is Mussoorie यहोवा की स्तुति करो or Mussoorie Jai Masih Ki. (No your eyes aren't doing funny things. I just wrote in Hindi.) Mussoorie is where we lived in India and Jai Masih Ki means "Praise the Lord" in Hindi.

We discovered this particular breed of lion hunting dogs while I was helping a family homeschool in Colorado. It was at their home that I got hooked on Starbucks Breve's and Rhodesian Ridgebacks. This particular family had an amazing dog that snored loudly, Zuri. Zuri was a Rhodesian Ridgeback. Zuri had a lot of personality. (But I suppose you need some personality if your ancestors stood up to lions. You see, it was discovered that the dogs with more prominent ridges on their backs were faster and more adept at hunting lions.)

When the Lord revealed to us that we would be moving back to the Midwest, our dog was our concession prize, our entertainment. We wanted an unusual dog. And we figured that since we couldn't ski and backpack in the mountains, we needed a new hobby to occupy our time and teach us responsibility. We figured that if we could keep her alive, then it was probably safe for us to have children.

Mussie mostly likes to sleep. However, she loves to go camping, backpack, and chase rubber balls. (I should say, destroy rubber balls.) She can hear a tuna can being opened from a long distance away, yet ignore attempts to get her to go potty one last time before nighty-night. Did I mention that she will ring a bell to go outside, play dead when shot with a pretend finger trigger, get dizzy when you spin your hand, and shake-a-paw when offered a palm?


I love our dog. She can be pretty annoying. But she really cleans the kitchen floor well. I don't know how young families live without a dog to pick up crumbs!

Oh and lastly, she also loves to go to Farmer's Markets! It is a great place to smell other dog's butts and get some free dog bones. Speaking of which (free, I mean, not dog's butts) don't forget to go get your tub of free Romesco from Country Mouse City Mouse!