“Brucey, sit!” my daughter says, pointing at the dog. He promptly presses his rump to the ground with a mouth open grin. “Look, Mommy!” Ellie squeals, clearly proud of her dog training skills.
I don’t have the heart to tell her he already knew that trick before we got him.
“Good job!” I call from the back door. Then they’re off again, tearing around the yard, her with a slow, clumping gait in rain boots two sizes too big and him leaping and bounding with his tail a fan waving excitedly every time he races past her.
A girl and her dog.
Something she begged for for years, never believing her daddy would ever say yes.
I watch as the dog tackles her, bringing her to the ground - only to climb on top of her and lick her face. She giggles, and his tail wags even faster.
Sweet Brucey was the answer to years of prayers raised from Ellie, her brother, and me. We were all surprised when Nathan agreed to a second dog.
We were even more surprised to hear from his breeder a week after we picked him out with the news that he was sick and might not make it. He had been diagnosed with juvenile cellulitis (an auto-immune condition commonly known as “puppy strangles”). What could we do? Would we get our deposit back? Or should we wait and see what happened?
Watching Ellie and Bruce play together now, I’m glad we chose the latter.
Even though having a puppy has been a lot more work than the kids expected and a lot more expensive than Nathan and I expected - we love him lots and I can’t imagine our family without him.
He’s taught us a lot about perseverance and joy. No matter what’s going on, no matter how many times he has to go the vet, he’s 100% sunshine, 100% of the time. He’s the personification of joy! And as you could probably guess from my angsty writing of late, joy is something I can definitely use a lot more of in my life.
