One week ago, we got a puppy. Because we have lost our minds, because we have too much time on our hands, because my step count has been suffering lately. You know, the usual reasons.
But also because we’ve been waiting for a long time.
A year ago, early last summer, our long-time family dog died. She was twelve. I was so much sadder than I ever expected I’d be. The kids were devastated. (The long process of saying good bye to that dog was an emotional and surprisingly introspective journey.)
And then, just a few weeks later—well before we intended to start looking—a new puppy walked into our lives. We named him Bingley. He died in an accident while we were on vacation. He was with us six weeks.
If the kids were devastated before, well. They had plenty of grief for their first dog, and plenty more for the new pup. One child had insomnia for months, not the occasional, inconvenient kind, but the messing-with-your-life kind.
We knew we were dog people, but we needed some time.
A lot happened in the middle there.
Six weeks ago Will and I tentatively met a 12-week-old yellow lab. A lab because our long-time chocolate lab had been perfect for our family. Yellow so she didn’t look like Harriet the Second.
Five weeks ago the kids met their puppy-to-be.
One week ago she came home.
We named her Daisy, because daisies are the happiest flower, and we needed a happy name. (And because I didn’t think my family would let me get away with another Austen-inspired dog name.)
I’ve been holding my breath a little, but it’s been a good week. For the dog, for Will and me, for the kids.
There are plenty of pet-owners in the world; people get new dogs every day. We’re not exactly special in that regard. And still—this has been quite a road for us, in ways I never expected.
Thanks for letting me introduce you to our new pup.