...the small, five pound things with wet noses and very awful breath.
Okay, it may seem trivial, but I'm thankful for my dog.
Seven years ago I got a dog as a college graduation present from my mom. I picked out a tiny Yorkshire terrier and named her Sophie. (Aren't all yorkies named Sophie?) I proceeded to spoil the hell out of this tiny, neurotic little dog.
I fretted a lot about what was going to happen with Sophie when Ramona was born. I worried that my spoiled, crazy dog was going to attack my small baby girl.
I did not even consider for a second that Sophie would be the greatest joy in Ramona's life. Yesterday I actually got Sophie out of her kennel especially to help me entertain the baby. I have to stand on my head to get a laugh out of Ramona, but all Sophie has to do is walk by.
So far, Sophie has shown herself to be gentle and tolerant of Ramona. She has adjusted her behavior to match our new expectations. She even lays at my feet when I rock Ramona and never asks to sit in my lap when Ramona is curled up there. She seems to take pleasure in guarding her family.
That Marley doesn't have a thing on Sophie. She is from that place where really good dogs are made. Bless her little doggy heart.