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Monday, October 10, 2016


Our. PRECIOUS. Dogs.

Henry. (Resting his sweet head on my sister’s leg.) A fancy dog. Has papers and everything. So much personality and energy. At five years old, he’s only slowed down a bit. He drives TLC a bit nuttier each day. But she (secretly) adores him. Little Leighton (LL) thinks he’s her brother. Baby Elle laughs and laughs every single time she looks at him.

Teddy Buddy Boo Bear. Doing what he does every morning of his life: Looking out our bedroom window while he waits for My Sweet Hubby (MSH) to take him for his daily walk. (And, yes. That’s a special hand towel for his chin. It has a pretty little bird on it. He tends to get my windowsills a teensy yucky with, well, dog slobber. Sorry.) Kind. Gentle. Loyal. Jealous (of any and everyone who even looks at MSH—ESPECIALLY LL—even though he does like LL—a lot.) A tidbit lazy—he is nine years old. Which makes him 63. A year older than ELC. That ain’t young.

Our Lives: Better. Happier. More fun. More interesting. Sillier. Full of lots o’ dog expenses (Yikes. Vet bills, boarding, special diets and meds. Oh. My.). LUCKIER. RICHER. BLESSED.

Thank You, Dear Lord God Almighty, for these cherished family members.

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