Brucie

Brucie has arrived. 

Photo by our extremely talented coworker, photojournalist Deborah Silver

Just to be clear, Brucie is a she. We named her after Jay Bruce, No. 32 for the Cincinnati Reds and The Lad's favorite player. It's also a name The Lad can say clearly. She weighs about 10 pounds and is 9 weeks old. An Australian cattle dog, she will be about 45 pounds fully grown. She squeaks and sighs every time she lays down. Our kids wore her out within hours, which I think says a lot about our boys. This is a herding dog, bred to run for hours, and my boys had her whooped and winded within just a few. This is my life, people. 

The husband and I drove to get her Saturday. It was a six-hour round-trip journey, and we left the boys with the in-laws, who are in town for a week, on Friday night to simplify things. So much alone time felt like a much-needed date after my week of travels. I told him all The Blathering stories I didn't manage to share in the 16 hours I was home Sunday before leaving for Cincinnati. He shared all the work stuff that happened while I was away. We discussed song lyrics and puppy names, the boys and writing, the end of the Iraq war and the state of the economy. And on the way home, I had a lap full of warm puppy. It was a good date. 

The boys were thrilled to have their very own puppy finally. Then they realized a puppy will jump. And nibble ears. And chew toys. "NO Brucie! Puppy no eat me!" This has come from The Lad's mouth numerous times over the last couple days. The Boy is jumpy and timid around all dogs, which is something I'd like to stop, and Brucie is no exception. I've been busting out the "Farmer Boy" references all weekend: "Remember, Boy, it's just like Almanzo and the oxen and horses. No sudden movements. Be still and calm and tell her No! in a firm voice." Tonight, with both Brucie and The Boy worn out, they took a walk together. It was pretty damn cute. 

I think I'm more excited than the boys to have a dog again. I am not looking forward to the inevitable messes and chewing. But she has puppy breath. And she cuddles. And I really just believe in having dogs. While I love my cat and Joce (the cat) will come comfort me while I'm sick, it's more of "HEY! you're sick. Let me lay on your head." I'm looking forward to having a dog, a loyal friend that will say, "Hey! You're sick. I'm going to lay right here by your feet so you're not alone." Of course, I haven't scooped any poop yet. 

What about you? Do you think a family needs a pet? What kind?