3

Three months today. Waiting for three months. It's gone fast, but not really. I really don't want to write about waiting because that is what we've been doing with the adoption recently. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. So instead let's talk about my dog Jill. For the past 3 days I've been wanting to write a little something about my dog Jill but haven't taken the time to do it. So tonight, when Gramps cancelled our Monday Night WWE "Raw" date, I finally had the time.

The reason I've been wanting to write about my dog Jill is because this past weekend we went to see Marley & Me. Amazing book. Good movie. And I would apologize for crying (almost out loud) for the last 25% of the movie, but my father-in-law was two seats down from me wiping tears for the last 40% of the movie. So, no apology. I keep saying "my dog Jill" because Jill is the first dog I've ever had. Jack, my other dog, came with Abby. Jack has always been and will always be Abby's dog. He's the one that gets to sleep in bed anytime he wants. He's the one that can do no wrong. He's Jack. Jill is Jill. She's the first dog I've ever raised from a puppy. I never had a dog growing up (I'm over the bitterness, Mom and Dad) -- so after Abby and I moved into OUR first house together we decided Jack was lonely and needed some company. WRONG! Actually, Jack is just Jack -- he's more human than dog. So, we got Jill to give him some companionship -- and he promptly ran her over (literally) in the yard any chance he got. They are now typical brother and sister. Playful one second, ripping each other apart the next. Back to Jill. I still say potty-training Jill is the greatest accomplishment of my married life. (The greatest accomplishment of my life was getting Abby to marry me -- but that's another story for another day.) A shortlist of the amazing things about my dog Jill:

1. She can eat faster than any dog. Period. Pound for pound she is the Joey Chestnut of the dog world. (Joey Chestnut is the hotdog eating king of the world. This 4th of July when you're looking for something to do, watch the Nathan's Hot Dog eating competition on ESPNHD. Because we know you need to see a person eat 50+ hot dogs in 12 minutes in High Def.) But to this day I don't think Jill has ever tasted anything.
2. Her left front leg is slowly turning out....faster and faster all the time. We think when she was a puppy she went crashing into the wall chasing a ball on our hardwood floors. This injured her growth plate causing it to twist. Now she looks like a ballerina or model. It doesn't slow her down. But when her hair is cut short her front leg looks like a "s."
3. She is easy to train, with food. She goes into her kennel for the night as soon as she sees Abby and I heading to bed. We don't have to ask. We don't have to yell. She just does it. Potty training was a good 3+ months of hell. (I know, I have no idea what's ahead with kids and potty training.) But after she got the hang of it she hasn't had too many accidents. All we had to do was put some peanut butter in a Kong, throw it in her kennel, and she was potty trained...for the most part.
4. We call her "Bear" a lot because she looks like a polar bear. Low to the ground. Fluffy. And cute as those polar bear cubs on the old Coke commercials. In case anyone was wondering, she is actually a cocker spaniel/poodle mix.

There are more reasons I love my dog Jill, but after seeing Marley & Me I just love her so much more. The ending of the movie has a great quote about Dogs:

"A dog has no use for fancy cars or big homes or designer clothes. Status symbol means nothing to him. A waterlogged stick will do just fine. A dog judges others not by their color or creed or class but by who they are inside. A dog doesn't care if you are rich or poor, educated or illiterate, clever or dull. Give him your heart and he will give you his. It was really quite simple, and yet we humans, so much wiser and more sophisticated, have always had trouble figuring out what really counts and what does not. As I wrote that farewell column to Marley, I realized it was all right there in front of us, if only we opened our eyes. Sometimes it took a dog with bad breath, worse manners, and pure intentions to help us see."— John Grogan