We have an announcement to make!

(my parents always said that when they were pregnant, and yes it’s a little annoying)

I’m not sure, but I think we might be proud parents of a dog… or a small pony, I’m not sure which.    If you’ve ever read the Mitford series, by Jan Karon then you’ll know his name “Barnabas” is no mistake.   The dog is bigger than a Pontiac.

  He was (is?) my parents dog, but they are moving to Guatemala, and after mom nearly gave him away to some guy in LA, we tearfully eloquently begged them to let us have the dog instead, because well…we love him.   The thing is, we weren’t supposed to officially make the transfer until next January, but we’ve been babysitting him for the last month and a half and I think he’s here to stay.   Thus, I introduce you to the newest but not smallest member of our family (he outweighs me by at least 5 lbs).  Barnabas.

He is a super cool dog.  He follows Jamie around, up cliffs, down hills, under rocks and pretty much everywhere else but up trees.   He even naps at Jamie’s feet while Jamie is using the bathroom.  Gross.   But somehow it makes me feel better to know that my ever moving son has a personal body guard who can leap over small trees and snap firewood in half like it’s brittle wishbone.   So just in case any of you were thinking of carting Jamie off for ransom…don’t.  Just don’t.    In fact, I would not recommend rough housing or play fighting with my kids either unless Barnabas has approved of you first.   His daddy is a police dog and he takes the family business very seriously.

Really, we have no complaints and the adjustment has gone beautifully.  He comes when called, doesn’t chew on furniture or bark unnecessarily . He eats his food with manners and his only vices are sneaking onto the carpeting (which he’s not allowed on), and running up to the main house to play with his brother Max.   It’s kind of problematic when your dog can open any door in the house as good as if he were human.  He sticks to us like glue until he realizes we are leaving somewhere and then he just lets himself out the back door and goes to his brother’s house.   It is far more annoying than it may sound.  Sunday, Jim had to go to work which left me and my non-morning self to somehow whip everyone into ship shape for church.  After I finally headed down the driveway, ten minutes late, makeup half applied and shoes in hand, I noticed Barnabas down the street.  Of course he pleaded ignorance at my repeated orders to go home, and he looked equally askance at my request to at least follow the car back, so I ended up leaving the car idling with the kids, and I running Barnabas home again.  Grrr…  Just what I wanted, another person in the house to take care of.  

But how can you be mad at that adorable face?  I certainly can’t.