In Tribute to Lu's Enduring Patience (Poor Girl Doesn't Know There's Another One Coming in Four Months)

My favorite part is when she periodically glares at me to say, "You remember when you brought me home and promised to take care of me? And I promised to be your loyal and faithful companion no matter what your beliefs were or what decisions you decided to make? WELL THIS CHILD WASN'T PART OF THAT DEAL."

She's Very Licky, Too

Lu's sister, Tawny, is staying at our house this week.

Lu came into our life the Christmas after we bought our house as a surprise present gone horribly awry. Tyler decided to get me a dog and made several secret trips to a breeder in Roy to check out the puppies (said breeder mysteriously disconnected her number after we discovered Lu's genetic joint problems). Maquel, Tyler's sister, accompanied Tyler on these trips. Returning home one evening after playing with 12 adorable fluffs of golden retriever, Maquel mimicked their big brown heart-breakingly pitiful eyes and told her husband Clark that she needed a puppy, too. Clark, being the wise man he is, bought her a puppy.

I found out about the puppies shortly after Thanksgiving. My mom--to whom I recently referred as a dog hater but who informed me that she does not hate dogs, she is only indifferent to dogs, and she can prove it because she likes Pammy's dog who leaves her entirely alone--was in on the secret and tried to talk me out of my own surprise present. I was under the impression I was receiving a quilt. Tyler had gone to great lengths to plant this imaginary quilt in my head, including buying and "accidentally" leaving out fake scraps of red fabric (did I mention Tyler is an amazing quilter? He is). What was really above and beyond, however, was when Tyler fake sleep-talked about how "she really likes red the best." Who knew my husband had the super-human ability to plant the deception in his sub-conscious and sleep-talk the fake gift to me? I was momentarily confused when my mom was trying to talk me out of the quilt I was about to receive--what did she have against finely woven fabric?--when I realized there was only one thing my extremely indifferent to canines mother would try to talk me out of. A dog.

I have since decided that having a close relative get a dog at the same time you do is the only way to go. The most obnixous thing about owning a dog is what to do with the dog when you go on vacation. The answer? Dog sleep-overs.

Which brings us to the original point: Lu's sister, Tawny, is staying at our house this week.

Tawny and Lu have different personalities. Tawny would like to inform the public that She Would Like Your Attention Right Now and For the Next Several Years Of Her Life. Lu would also like your attention. She Would Like You to Throw Her Ball. Lu frequently will leave her ball at your feet and then pounce on it for the next twenty minutes, saying "Did you notice there is a ball right here? There is. I would like for you to throw it. Right now. Maybe you missed it. Because it's right here. And now would be a good time for you to throw it. You can think about if for another two seconds if you like, but after that I'm going be really insistent about the throwing of the ball, which, incidentally I would like you to do. Right now. RIIIIIIIGHT now. Right now." Tawny, however, just knocks you over and sits in your lap. Which seems a bit overwhelming, I know, since Tawny weighs roughly 60 lbs. It becomes even more overwhelming when Lu's little mind lightbulb goes on and she says, "You mean sitting on your lap is an OPTION? Why didn't I think of that?" And 120 lbs. of golden retriever on your lap is really too much golden retriever.

The best part of Tawny is that Talmage has realized that he likes Lu. No one is more surprised than him. Up until now, Talmage has taken the approach of trying to ignore that Lu exists. Except when he finds her presence in the hallway in front of the heat vent annoying, and then he grabs on to her fur with both hands and pulls. But now, (to quote my brother Scott) Tawny is to Talmage as Lex Luther is to Superman. She is his archnemesis. He has spent the last several days flailing his arms as he screams at the top of his lungs "Tawny Out SIDE!" Today he took a bone out of Tawny's mouth and said, with more anger than I'm sure I use when talking to the dog, "NO, Tawny. LU'S bone." Today, after banishing Tawny to the backyard while Lu got to play in his room, Talmage said to me, "Talm love Lu. Tawny go home?"

You See That Profile? That's the Profile That Says "I'm Prettier Than All the Other Dogs, Because That's What the Other Dog Owners Gush."

I haven't ever posted about my dog. That is because I started this blog when I was a mother, not three years ago, when I was a Lunatic Dog-Owner Who Stopped This Short of Dressing Her Dog in People Clothes.

My dog's name is Lu. Really, we don't know how to spell that, but I assure you, it is a girl dog name, short for Louisa, not a boy dog name, short for Louis. The cashier at Petsmart said "My [boy] dog's name is Lu, too, short for Lucifer!" Her name is Lu because Tyler had a crazy obsession with the name Lu and was ready to name our first-begotten-she-child Lu (this probably should have been the first red flag of a revolting name fetish that became all too apparent when he suggested Ebeneezer as an appropriate first-begotten-he-child name. "Listen to how cool that sounds, Laura. Ebeneezer Howe."). I wasn't convinced. I was even less convinced when he pulled the name Luella off my family history chart. I told him, "If we name our daughter Luella, we might as well name her Luella Mae Sue and plan on her marrying Cletus Homer Jefferson. If we ever get a dog, we can name the dog Lu." Done and done.

I first realized What A Big Part of the Family Lu Is when she needed surgery on her leg at 7 months old. They tell you golden retrievers are gentle and loving and great with kids, but they don't tell you that golden retrievers come with all sorts of genetic joint problems. Lu was born with elbow displasia, meaning her elbow didn't fit together right, making her lame. It's difficult to have the conversation, "How much are we going to spend on a dog?" at any time, but that conversation had a pretty bleak outlook when happening between a graduate student, not really making any money, and a public educator only on step 2 of his public educator's salary. I'm not sure I've properly thanked my in-laws for making her arthroscopic surgery a possibility, and I still won't disclose to my dog-hating parents exactly how much we spent on the dog.

Talmage was born when Lu was a year old. I didn't love Lu any less when Talmage was born; I just started loving Talmage a lot more. But I realized how big a part of my life she still was when she got caught in a current swimming in a bloated spring-runoff river. I realized she wasn't going to make it back to shore and glimpsed the waterfall in the distance. I did stop to take infant Talmage off my back, but I was ready to jump in that river for my girl. It's probably fortunate that she had already gone over the waterfall by the time I looked back up, but the next several minutes before she turned up 20 meters downstream were almost as frightening as Talmage's five minute febrile seizure.

Last night I came home late from book club. The house was dark, and Talmage and Tyler were both asleep. I opened the door and kicked off my shoes when Lu wandered sleepily down the hall. I stopped to pet her, but she looked at me with eyes that said, "Thanks for the effort but I'm really tired. I just wanted to make sure your home and okay. Everything good? Great, well I'm going back to bed."

She's my best girl.