Call me crazy, call me Dad. But I joined my wife in caving in to my son’s pleading eyes when he asked that age-old question, “Mom and Dad, can I have a puppy?”
Welcome, Popcorn. A tiny, whitish, whispy-haired furball, pictures later. My son named him. And to see him jump with joy, and to see the smile on his face as he held him, made the next 12 years or so of work and expense worth it. I’m positive. Really. It’s worth it. For sure. No doubts.
Popcorn is a 3 or 4 pound, 12-week old Malshi. He is considered a “designer breed” which is Greek for “a mixed-breed mutt that we used to have to give away but now can charge ridiculous prices for because it’s designer.”
He’s cute. A total lap dog. In fact, he’s sitting in my lap and resting his tiny-head, with his even tinier brain–on my arm as I type. He’s happiest being held. The kids held him on and off all of yesterday afternoon and evening. Popcorn never even laid a tooth on them. Very patient. He fell asleep on my son’s lap. And it was such a joy to see him fall asleep on my son’s bed at bedtime. He (my son) was beside himself with joy. After a little while, we brought Popcorn down to his crate. He was great. Didn’t make a peep until 4:30, and I’m usually up by then, anyway.
So, we’ve now filled that multitude of empty, boring, “what shall we do now?” spaces in our family’s life with a puppy.
Why did God make us able to bond with dogs?
(I’ll put up some pictures this afternoon).