It’s such a cliche’, but it’s true– all family pets eventually become Mom’s.  Over the last 15 years, I’ve become the reluctant (and eventual guilt-ridden) caretaker of two goldfish named Goldie and Glowy (accidentally killed ’em within a week of owning them); a long-haired guinea pig named Snickers (he lasted a few years– but eventually got a kidney stone and died, probably because I didn’t add enough fresh veggies to his diet); an anole named Colors (kind of looked like the Geico gecko– I dutifully bought him a bag of mini crickets and a meal worm each week…but I think I waited too long one week…) and our current animal resident, a Cavachon dog named Luke (trust me, I’m doing all I can to keep him alive and healthy!!).  We waited a long time to get a dog– we wanted to wait until we’d moved to a bigger house, and to make sure our kids were old enough to help with the responsibility.  Hah! The joke was on me, again.

As it turns out, we had to take ownership of him a month before Christmas– he was already six months old, and the breeder didn’t want to “hold” him longer than a couple weeks once my husband and I decided he was “the one”.  Since he was supposed to be a Christmas surprise for our kids, we hid him at our friend Clyde’s house until The Big Day.  I’d drop the kids off at school and stop at Clyde’s on the way home, picking up Luke and keeping him all day at our house until it was time to take him back (and I had to be very careful to get rid of any evidence that he’d been at our house– thank goodness he doesn’t shed!) So, naturally, who does he follow around once he’s introduced to the rest of the family on Christmas morning? Me.  He is hopelessly attached to me.  And while that defeats our original purposes of having a dog (a pet for the kids, a calming influence for my teen, a chance for the girls to learn responsibility), it sure is nice to have a “baby” to cuddle on your lap when your kids get too big for it…

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