Puppy Love

Dear Reader,

This morning as I sit here, all I can hear around me is the crash of thunder, the strange buzzing of lightening and rain, rain, rain. For me, there is no better sleeping weather... but alas, good friends, I am wide awake.

I don't ever remember being scared of the thunder and lightening... although that doesn't mean much. Much of the specifics of my childhood have slowly slipped from memory. But, I remember fondly Kirsten running across the living room, blanket in tow, to bound in my lap the second the first clap of thunder clapped loudly outside. I would hold her and rock her, comforting her and smelling that baby type smell that I try so hard not to forget. Sadly, as a teenager, she no longer bounds on my lap. I'm not sure if she even notices the thunder or the rain, except to say that it's going to mess up her hair! (And really, isn't that what the real problem with rain is??) So, as I sit here remembering... what do I hear?? Crying, wailing, and moaning. Now I know what you're thinking dear reader, you're thinking that it's my husband. But no, it's the OTHER man of the house... Chance.

Chance is my eight year old weiner dog. (I have three by the way) He is the oldest, but quite frankly he is the biggest baby and the sweetest of the three. (Unless you happen to be a huge 190 lb. mastiff in the waiting room of the veterinary clinic... if you get to close to him or my mom, he'll bite ya... and he did.) He's my only male, and he definitely knows his place. He waits patiently while each of the girls eats their food and then takes whatever is leftover. When Rosie had her babies and had to have a c-section (oh yes, you read correctly) Chance took over her parenting skills and slept with and cleaned all the babies. (While Rosie looked on sullenly.) He, for lack of a better word, has manners. However, Chance's downfall, is thunderstorms. Chance loses his mind. He crys, he shakes, he pants, he trembles (he pees and he poops nonstop) it's really quite sad. But, if you look at Chance in the eyes, you know he is ablsolutely terrified. That's when all manners leave my little man. He will run across the living room and bound in my lap (just like Kirsten, but doesn't smell as good) and he doesn't care who he has to knock over to get there. Ears flapping in the wind, long, fat body in flight, running to me at 90 mph b/c he just KNOWS I'll save him. Sometimes, it's irritating. I mean, I literally can't do anything during a thunderstorm b/c I HAVE to deal with Chance. (As I write, he is sitting perched in my lap, giving the occasional yap.) Then I look into those sweet, brown, trusting eyes and know that, like Kirsten did, he needs me too. (Oh ya, I went there) And my heart melts, and I sit here and comfort my... DOG. Good gosh people, I've been sitting here for 20 minutes talking about my weiner dog.

I need some sleep. (But I probably won't get any b/c there is a rather large WEINER dog sitting on me)

Night Night.