Black Furry Dog
When my oldest son was two, we adopted our dog, Champ. He is a great pooch, part border collie and part cocker spaniel! He is high energy, fun loving, and does not have one mean bone in his body. He quickly became my running partner, protector, and faithful friend. When I was home alone at night, Champ would be on duty, laying on the top of the step with his muzzle on his paws, watching over everything until my husband would come home from his night shift. During the day, he is always by my side or at my feet.
I doted on Champ nearly as much as my son. The three of us were inseparable. My faithful friend, always there, always protecting us, always loving us, and ready to go for a run anytime.
The years went by and the house dynamics changed. Champ's spot at the top of the pack dropped dramatically. There were several years between baby one and two, baby two and three, and ten years between baby one and four. As we added babies to the mix, I had less and less time to spend with Champ. He would be so excited to see me put my running shoes on, only to be disappointed as I ran out the door to the grocery store, pre-school, or soccer practice. He went from a couple runs a day, to a couple walks a week, to just being chained out in the yard.
One particular night stands out in my mind. We had just had our 4th baby and my husband was still working nights. That meant I was the one woman wonder at bed time. There should be an Olympic event for getting kids to bed, I know I would be a contender. I had a great system down, but the baby was the wild card. He was up every two hours. I had never been so tired, EVER. I could barely keep my eyes open.
Champ decided to chime into the middle of the night mayhem and began barking and barking at the door. With the screaming newborn nestled securely in my arms, I opened the back door. As I leaned over, balancing baby, and grabbing the chain, Champ took advantage of my weakness, and took off. His ears were back, flattened to his head, his tail was pointed straight behind him, and he shot off the deck blending into the dark of night. I stood there. I called his name. No Champ. I was furious. He made his break for freedom and apparently, he was seizing the opportunity to explore. For just a second, I thought of loading the kids into the van and driving the neighborhood in search of him as I would have in the past. But, in that delirious moment that only sleep deprived mothers of newborns experience, I shut the door and went to bed and slept. I thought to myself, "if he comes back he comes back and if he doesn't...oh well."
Only when I awoke, did I start to worry about him.
I ran downstairs and opened the back door, no Champ. My heart sank. Then I ran to the front door. There he was, muzzle on his paws looking down the steps. Still protecting us, still faithful, and when he looked up at me, began wagging his tail.
I doted on Champ nearly as much as my son. The three of us were inseparable. My faithful friend, always there, always protecting us, always loving us, and ready to go for a run anytime.
The years went by and the house dynamics changed. Champ's spot at the top of the pack dropped dramatically. There were several years between baby one and two, baby two and three, and ten years between baby one and four. As we added babies to the mix, I had less and less time to spend with Champ. He would be so excited to see me put my running shoes on, only to be disappointed as I ran out the door to the grocery store, pre-school, or soccer practice. He went from a couple runs a day, to a couple walks a week, to just being chained out in the yard.
One particular night stands out in my mind. We had just had our 4th baby and my husband was still working nights. That meant I was the one woman wonder at bed time. There should be an Olympic event for getting kids to bed, I know I would be a contender. I had a great system down, but the baby was the wild card. He was up every two hours. I had never been so tired, EVER. I could barely keep my eyes open.
Champ decided to chime into the middle of the night mayhem and began barking and barking at the door. With the screaming newborn nestled securely in my arms, I opened the back door. As I leaned over, balancing baby, and grabbing the chain, Champ took advantage of my weakness, and took off. His ears were back, flattened to his head, his tail was pointed straight behind him, and he shot off the deck blending into the dark of night. I stood there. I called his name. No Champ. I was furious. He made his break for freedom and apparently, he was seizing the opportunity to explore. For just a second, I thought of loading the kids into the van and driving the neighborhood in search of him as I would have in the past. But, in that delirious moment that only sleep deprived mothers of newborns experience, I shut the door and went to bed and slept. I thought to myself, "if he comes back he comes back and if he doesn't...oh well."
Only when I awoke, did I start to worry about him.
I ran downstairs and opened the back door, no Champ. My heart sank. Then I ran to the front door. There he was, muzzle on his paws looking down the steps. Still protecting us, still faithful, and when he looked up at me, began wagging his tail.
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