Heeeeeeeere's Patrick!

Our fake Christmas tree was purchased late one December when the 75% off sales were happening. Scot was down with the flu, so I knew it was my chance. He thinks artificial trees are the devil's work. I hauled the 9 foot sucker in the house by myself and set it up in front of his recumbent body. He was too sick to protest or care.

I got tired of waiting for Paw Placement to call me back concerning Chico. I mean really! Did they want this dog to have a home or not? Scot was busy with his study group at our dining room table today when I herded the kids into the car. I remembered there was an adopt-a-thon going on nearby. I'm always disappointed in the selection at a pet adoption fair, and never expect to go home with a dog in my car. Today was different. Inside the front door of the Pet Market were 15-20 Chihuahuas, dachshunds, terriers and other small microwaveables. Just what I had been looking for. And then I saw him. His given name was Chewy (kind of scary) and he had been surrendered by a Hispanic family that had to give up their house for an apartment. Bernice used to live in the Bario and was named Sophie, so I get along well with the Spanish dogs.
We promptly renamed Chewy "Patrick" and loaded him up in the car.

"OH MY GOSH," Scot said. That's all he really could say as I came in through the front door holding Patrick. He had two guests in the house and he couldn't look like a jerk asking me "what in holy tar nation did you do?!" I expect a beating or two later.

So far, so good. No bloody carnage amongst Bernice and our step-daughter dog, Annie. No chewing. Potty outside. I really couldn't ask for anything more. It's love. Scot hasn't had a chance to spend any time with Patrick yet (poor thing is trying to think of a process that needs streamlining). He knows I'm happy though. And usually that makes him happy. We still have the fake tree. Nice guy.