I am Grateful

I am Grateful

For

-Benefits. I am so glad that The Mr.'s work is paying for movers! What a blessing.

-A sense of humor, and a quirky little kid that demands it.

Cooling off Daddy's muffins. Isaac decided to make sure they weren't poisoned. Nope, they're safe. All of them.

-People who inspire me. Meekness, charity, and humility are traits that I greatly admire. And seriously lack.

-A healthy pregnancy.

-Guardian angels. Every once in awhile I realize how many things could go horribly wrong in my life, and don't.

-Kizzy finding a good home. It breaks my heart when the Bug asks where she is, and then says "Tiddy. Don." (Kizzy, gone), but I'm also grateful that he's not old enough to really get it yet.

Just before saying goodbye

-Continual learning & progression.

Happy Thursday!


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Just Break My Heart

Today I am grateful for Kizzy.

Also known as Kizzy-roo, Rooster, Roo, Kizz, The Kizzle, Crazy...

We are finally making progress in our northward move. In order to save money and pay off our mortgage, we have decided to downsize and rent an apartment. Along with a yard, a garden, privacy and a decent amount of space, this means I have to say goodbye to my girl.

I bawled my eyes out when it became more of a reality. I didn't let myself think too much about it for a long time. I love Kizzy.

So today I am grateful. Grateful for the playmate she has been for my Bug.

Grateful that she has been gentle with him and made him laugh. Grateful that she has learned to stay down and wait in her crate for her breakfast. Grateful for the patience she has taught me and the company she has been. Grateful for a God who allowed dogs and all animals to be a part of this earth so that we could enjoy them and take care of them. Grateful that this move is temporary, and that one day I will again have my own home and my own yard and a place for another pet to grow into our family's hearts.

If you know of anyone looking for a sweet family dog, I have just the one.

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Letter to the Kizz

Dear Kizzle,

I'm sorry that I am so lame and tried to pass a garbage can off as a dog house.

It seemed like a great idea at the time. But you hate it and would rather be pelted by marble-sized balls of hail than submit yourself to it's oscary depths.

I have since repented of my ways, and we are working on making you a house fit for a Kizz.

The Mr. has spent plenty of his precious precious time hard at work, so I suggest you thank him. He takes gratitude in the form of a 5' personal bubble.

Much appreciated,

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The Kiz

This is Kizzy, the family dog. Well, I don't know if you could consider her a family dog--The Mr. certainly wouldn't claim her. She's really my dog. Only she doesn't listen to me. So maybe she's The Bug's dog. Right, so this is Kizzy. I love Kizzy. I also hate Kizzy. You could, in fact, say that we have a love-hate relationship.

As a kiddo I was nuts about animals. We're talking obsessed. I almost liked animals as much as I liked boys. Almost. My mom could tell you--she has more than one letter explaining to her why I absolutely must have a maltese, bunny, a llama...complete with diagrams and charts showing costs and how exactly I was going to cover them, needed supplies, living quarters, etc. Occasionally the response I got was: when you are married and have a house of your own you can have whatever animals you want.

Enter the Mr. He did not draw diagrams of llama pens and hamster breeding quarters. He did not beg for a little doggy that would lick his face and sleep in his bed. And, he most certainly did not ask for a wife who wanted those things. Luckily, we were madly in love and the seven hundred and sixty-two things we had going for us weighed against this one biggie and we decided to tie the knot anyway.

Let's skip ahead a year or two and just say that I am overly persistent and the Mr. is very sweet and possibly a glutton for punishment. I got a dog. And, he was right. She does everything he was afraid she would do. She poops all over the yard. She licks the Mr. (he hates that!), and just likes him in general. SHE.EATS.EVERYTHING. We're talking wood, we're talking weeds, we're talking branches, $30 shrubs we had planted the fall before, writing utensils, eating utensils, paper towels, sketchy-looking berries, plastic bags, rubber bands, and her favorite: The Bug's clothes. I have come outside to find nothing left but a 1" square of a shirt. She has eaten swim shorts, a hat, a shirt...who knows what else. Those are the days I want to kill her.

In fact, the first four months I think I went into a depression trying to decide on a daily basis whether I should keep her or pass her on. I didn't want to do it, but she was such a struggle for me. It is interesting, though. God knows the lessons I need to learn and my goodness, is he ever teaching me through this dog.

Patience has been the biggest lesson for sure. But, eight months later, she is almost well behaved. She drives me nuts sometimes, but I love her. I know she'll make a good dog. And she has saved me so much grief. Every afternoon as I start dinner, I say to the Bug: "Go outside and play with Kizzy." And he does, and that clumsy, oblivious, bowling ball of a dog is as careful as you can believe with my little boy. And even The Mr. likes that.







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