Lucy, I'm home!

Now say that title again, using your best Ricky Ricardo accent. That's what my new doggie hears when I walk in the door. Yep, new doggie. Bringing the total canine count to 3. And the total poundage to 330. Not a typo. We have 330 pounds on dog in my house. Shedding, drooling, licking, sniffing, jumping, chasing dogs.

See, right around finishing treatment, I clearly had a mid-life crisis. Mid-life you say? Come on, you're 30. Yeah, well when you face the "big C" you have no idea what's mid-life and what's not. Evidence of my midlife crisis- buying my impractical MINI, taking pole dance classes and signing up to rescue a dog. There are other more ridiculous ideas I come up with- that's a story for another day.

One could argue that I was dealing with my inability to have babies by taking on furry creatures that would love me unconditionally. And I wouldn't deny it. I had nested and was ready to nurture. Plus, you can yell, "What the fuck are you doing?" to a dog and not get in trouble. So if nurturing dogs allowed copious amounts of inappropriate behavior, then sign me up.

Goldilocks and the two bears.

Lucy is the one with the white on her chest looking right at the camera.

We had two wonderful dogs already. Two dogs that we paid a lot of money for. Two dogs that get treated better than most people. I felt compelled to bring this life of luxury to a dog who was less fortunate. All the toys you can chew! Left over pieces of steak! Sleep on the bed! Drink out of the toilet! (Yeah, not a fan of this last one, but you gotta pick your battles.)

So off I went to sign us up to rescue a Newfoundland. I informed Alan of this after the fact. Screw it, I'm the one home. I'm the one that will be taking care of it. (I am hoping this logic will apply to child care decisions as well. Don't want my kid running off to play cricket.)

And we heard nothing for months. Until the day before New Year's Eve. There was an emergency rescue needed. A family was moving and they couldn't take the dog. There were "issues." And the dog had to be taken that weekend. Could we help? Of course we could. So off we go, driving 3 hours to pick up Lucy from a trailer park in the middle of Georgia. A 120 pound dog in a trailer. It was very sad. Thankfully, this wasn't a case where Lucy was abused; just the opposite. Her owner was sobbing as we drove away. Lucy, on the other hand, was happy as can be. An adventure!

Dogs are amazing creatures. Their ability to adjust amazes me. Lucy and Harry are best buddies. You would have thought they grew up together. This is awesome until I'm awoken at 3am to the sounds of barking and chasing. Lucy's almost 3 and she still acts like a puppy. She's the most mushy, lovable thing ever. All the cuddles of Kylie with Harry's big ol' Newfie body.

Lucy and Harry taking a break from playing.

What you don't see? Every dog toy we own strewn about the yard.

Unfortunately, Lucy's had some health problems. She had fleas, tapeworm and arthritis that seems to have come from a broken leg that didn't heal properly. And she has heartworm, which we will have to treat with pretty rough treatment. But you'd never know it. Lucy will be a permanent member of the Bugler family for years. Think of the Christmas cards!

The 3 dogs have settled in nicely. Although I think I've hit my puppy limit. Even nuts have limits.