Introducing...

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I’ve wanted a dog ever since I graduated college. It made sense not to have one during college, but that’s the only period of my life during which I haven’t had at least two pets. My first roommate post-college wasn’t keen on dogs, nor was Lee (who was my fiancé then), so we adopted our two brother cats from a family who couldn’t give them enough attention anymore. 

When one of those guys passed away (from feline diabetes. shocking, yes, because he was only 22 lbs…okay, maybe it’s not shocking), I lobbied for a dog. I lost. We got two more adult cats instead.

So what did it take to get Lee interested in a dog? Three factors played in:
  1. The realization that not all breeds are as slobbery as my parents' English bulldogs
  2. The reality that our oldest feline friend might not be around much longer due to some chronic health problems that aren't responding well to treatment right now
  3. The Robster
Our little man loves dogs. He rarely throws major tantrums, but he does EVERY time we have to leave a dog. That, combined with his watching our girl play fetch with our friends’ dog in Alabama last spring, pushed Lee over the edge. One of our mornings in Texas, a few days after we had been in Alabama, she woke up and – before saying “good morning” or anything else – said, “I want a dog like a Max.”

So it was mostly the kids who convinced him. (I knew I had kids for a reason.)

Earlier this week I asked for suggestions of short men in history. Here’s an explanation for that: Most of my childhood pets were named after historical figures. Beau was actually short for Brigadier General Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard. And, yes, I could spell and say that back in elementary school. I learned about Beauregard and Alexander the Great and Ivan the Conqueror and other men in history through our pets.

Why short men? Well, the dog formerly known as Bud is half basset hound. He was surrendered by his previous owners to a shelter that euthanizes within five days if animals aren't adopted by then, and the rescue we’re working with plucked him from doggy death row. They know he’s part basset because the momma was a basset. The dad? We’re not completely sure. Probably a mix, mostly lab, maybe some Newfoundland, possibly some chow, maybe some other stuff. The rescue called him Bud the Bassedor.

He’s a big guy on little legs. See?





I'll post more pictures after he officially joins the family tomorrow. These are courtesy of Craigslist because I forgot to take any when we met him on Saturday.

Now that you've seen the pictures, do you understand why we were seeking names of short men in history? Bud is his rescue name, and he's not too attached to it. Otherwise we would keep it, as we have with our cats in the past (well, except for Heckler whose name was Dickie, and we couldn't handle that). I'm glad changing it will work, though, because we already call our human little guy Bud or Buddy from time to time.

Now to the name, without further ado...we started with Napoleon, who actually wasn't shorter than the average guy in his day but the myth of his short stature has persisted nonetheless. Then we went where anyone goes nowadays for ideas. Nope, not Google. Facebook.

I didn't explain that it would be a dog's name. Here are some of the possibilities offered there: Alexander Pope (4'6"). Genghis Khan (5'1"). Yasser Arafat (5'2"). Yuri Gangarin, first man in space (5'2"). Gandhi (5'3"). Voltaire (5'3"). Picasso (5'4"). James Madison, the shortest president (5'4"). Lenin (5'5"), and I also read somewhere that Stalin was short too. Charlie Chaplin (5'5"). Athanasius of Alexandria, a renowned theologian who was called the black dwarf by his enemies because of his height and dark skin. John Keats (5'1"). The Lucky Charms leprechaun. Zacchaeus. And Yoda.

I lobbied for Athanasius of Alexandria, because the nickname black dwarf would fit the dog formerly known as Bud well. Lee lobbied for Yoda.

(Did I say earlier that I would get to the name without further ado and then proceeded to do lots of further adoing? Yes. Yes, I did.)

I conceded that Athanasius of Alexandria would be a tough name to call and hard for the kids to say, and we didn't like variations of it (Alex was out because we didn't want a person name; Nasi because it was too much like Nazi; and AA because we don't think he has any drinking problems). Lee conceded that Yoda is not the kind of historical figure we were aiming for.

So what did we settle on?

Yep, Napoleon. Aren't you glad we thought through all the other possibilities first, though?

She's ready!

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Every day she asks, "It is Christmas yet? Is it Jesus' birthday today?" The snow has confused her, too, because she equates snow with Christmas because that's how pictures and movies and Christmas cards portray it.


And she loves the decorations we have up at church! (As do I!) I'll be posting some pictures of our tree and decorations soon, but I wanted to share this one of the eager, expectant girl now!

If you find

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a fourth stocking that would match these three and be a good fit for our little guy, please let me know!


Lee's mom gave us the good blue one and not-so-good red one our first married Christmas, and then she gave our girl the Noah's ark one at her first Christmas. I've been looking for one for our boy, but I keep hitting dead ends.

I know I could just replace them and start new, but it just wouldn't be right.

So, for now, the kids are each using tacky tasteless overly commercialized Disney ones, a Cinderella one that plays Christmas music at an obnoxious volume and a Lightning McQueen one that says various Cars quotes. I don't love 'em (don't even like them), but they were ridiculous cheap, less than two dollars each if I recall correctly. 

Life with our boy

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I thought our girl was a rough kid. (And she is.) I thought she liked to get dirty. (And she does.) I thought she could be destructive. (And she can.)

And then I had our boy.


His legs are reverse dalmatian, with white skin blotted out with black bruises of unknown origin. His clothes seem to turn slightly brown with dirt upon touching his skin. In less than three minutes, he can remove the outlet plate, screw and all, and expose all the wiring without using any tools other than his fingers. (I've seen him do it, and I'm still not sure how it happens.)

And he comes home from church with accident reports that say something like "he dove headfirst into a bin of building blocks without warning and without trying to stop himself or put out his hands."

Can you imagine that from this guy?


No, I don't know why his pajamas are partially unzipped.

He flies a bit more under the radar than his sister did. If she was up to no good, it was obvious. Even now, she comes to me and tells me, "Don't look at me, and don't follow me when I go to _______" if she's about to do something wrong. (And, yes, that means that I should definitely look at her, pay attention to what she's doing, and follow her. Oh, how I pray that she will continue to tell on herself as she gets older!) He just quietly slinks away to see how many does-it-sink-or-float experiments he can do in the toilet water. (For the record, sippy cups, My Little Ponies, and toothbrushes float; Matchbox cars and Mr. Potato Head pieces sink.)

I love him. I love the new things I learn being his momma. I love that as much as our girl is Daddy's girl, he is Momma's boy, telling Lee first thing in the morning yesterday, "Hi, Daddy. I need Mommy."


And, yes, I did try to get a picture with him wearing antlers to match his red nose. Evidently he doesn't have enough self-respect to avoid splashing in toilet water, but his draws his dignity line at wearing reindeer headwear. Go figure.