...and then there were FOUR

For years I have introduced our family as "one dog shy of being weird people." If this statement is true, I am now officially a weird dog person.

T called me at the crack of dawn on Christmas Eve from a weigh station in the middle of nowhere. Once I was awake enough to answer the phone and form coherent sentences, T asked me if I had been serious the night before when we discussed the (distant) possibility of another large dog to keep Blackie's separation anxiety from destroying our house while we are out. I warily asked him why.

"I was around back going on a tree when this huge chocolate lab ran right up to me. I practically peed on her head!" (Like the fact that he had almost marked her was somehow a selling point.) "She's super friendly and can already do tricks! She sits and shakes! If I just leave her here, she will get hit by a truck on the interstate. I guess I could take her to the pound, but they don't keep them very long before they put them to sleep. Can I bring her home?" All of this is said very quickly, six-year-old-begging-for-candy-style.

My response? Well, don't let her get run over.

So now we have another dog. Another BIG dog. T brought her home before I had even made it out of bed. When the dogs started freaking out, I jumped out of bed and treated T's partner to a show (imagine a fat, bra-less, squint-eyed, wild-haired woman in a ratty night shirt and a bite guard. Pretty.) and saw the most gorgeous brown dog I have ever seen. She stole our hearts immediately.


I called around and found a vet open on Christmas Eve to check her out and make sure she wasn't going to give my other hounds the plague. Oh, and to see if she was chipped so we could give her back to her real owners. Yeah, like that was going to happen. They would have to have a really good reason why she was dumpster diving next to an interstate before T would relinquish her. Anyhoo, no chip. We got her wormed and vaccinated. She weighs a whopping 82 pounds. The vet estimates her to be two or three years old. He gave us the wormer for free since we were adopting her on Christmas and all. I think he was half hoping I would let him have her!

So far, she has done remarkably well. She seems to be fine with letting the tiny male pom remain the alpha dog - even though she could eat Griffin in two hairy bites. When Izzy barks at her, she is fascinated rather than annoyed. She lets the kids climb all over her. She did eat a stick and a half of butter and the beginnings of a breakfast casserole off the counter on the first day. There were, ahem, digestive consequences for that in the middle of the night. Blech.

Last night she hopped up on my bed with me to snuggle while I was on the phone with my fam. So. very. sweet. So, weird dog people it is - though T says we only have one dog per person, so we are still one dog shy of weird dog people. Whatever. I'll take it!


UPDATED: We named her Holly. Holly Berry actually. A nod to both the season and another gorgeous brown girl. T is trying to stage a mutiny and is calling her "Brownie." I am not going to have it. (Blackie and Brownie? Uh, no. Blackie is bad enough - everyone assumes the kids named her.) Besides, her real name has already been recorded at the vet's office!