meet our dog child.

As most of you already know and have seen several pictures of her accompany us on our hikes, this is Bella. Bella Bishop that is.

(I've nicknamed her "Boo-boo," which Brian has conveniently shortened into "Boobs." Our daughter's first word is surely to be "boobs," but I've already come to terms with that.) So I just realized the other day that we've talked quite a bit about our little belly bugger roasting in my oven, but we have yet to talk about our dog child. Poor Bella. I'm sure she would be so offended if she knew. She's very sensitive, people. So anyway, Brian rescued Bella from the Albuquerque pound when she was a whopping 12 months old. From what he says, I guess she was all pathetic looking, just quietly and sadly sitting there, while all the other dogs were barking like they would never bark another day and just otherwise acting psycho and crazy (seriously, you really think someone is going to take you home acting a fool like that? it only works when you're drunk at a bar, pups). So I guess Bella missed out on the crack for breakfast had the right tactic, or was just the easy choice. But either way, she went home with Brian that day and the rest is history.

This makes Bella my step dog, as when I married Brian she was almost 3 years old. Brian tells me this is a horrible thing to say. Why? How is this horrible? It's neither good nor bad, it's just what it is. I think Brian's the bad guy here stereotyping step dogs as not as loved or outcasts or something. I mean sheesh. Step dogs don't look like this:

Now, Bella is a very, very good dog. And take it from me people, I am a harsh critic. (No way, me, really?) She is completely potty trained, she can walk off leash relatively well, she comes when called, she knows when she has been bad, and she is not annoying. Thank you Lord in heaven. And this dog loves to hike and run more than we do. She inspires me, people. However (yeah, you knew there was a catch), there is just one thing that I cannot stand about Bella. Bella sheds like a banshee. And trust me, a banshee sheds A.LOT. Now, I know this is not her fault, but who else am I going to blame for emptying the vacuum 3 times when I vacuum the house every week, or for all the hair that mysteriously appears on the couch after every time we leave the house, or for all of the clothes in my closet with Bella hair on them, when everything just came out of the dryer and straight onto a hanger? Going from no dog, to doghairgaloreoneverything, has been a rude awakening.

Because of this, I do my best to hold it against her.

  But, she is wearing me down. Because Bella is that person dog who you really want to hate, but you can't. Because no matter what you do or say to her, she still can't contain her excitement when she sees you come home, and never ceases to give you more love than you ever deserve. She (unknowingly) kills you slowly with love and kindness. I should take lessons from her. But damnit Bella. Why do you do this to me?

 

I still need to call Cesar Millan about how to get Bella to stay off the couch when we're gone. And Brian wants to call Cesar to get her to stop staring at us all creepy-like when we're sitting on the couch.

But otherwise, I guess she's a keeper.