A rescue dog, sent to rescue a family who, in the past two years, has lost a dog, two cats, a frog, and, a little girl.
Addie, the animal lover. Addie, the little girl with big plans. To be a vet (with summers off, of course). To rescue animals both tame and wild. To foster dogs like the ones she read about in Ellen Miles' Puppy Place books. To work tirelessly for animal rights, much like the officers she saw on the TV show Animal Cops Houston, which, by the way, she watched religiously.
Addie, the advocate, who convinced her friend to mix up some sweet lemonade with her one summer day and sell it and send all the profits to the Humane Society.
Who prompted an entire community to get out and give big to the Humane Society in the days following her death.
We just didn't know Addie would have a hand in picking her out.
Here's the story:
As we were getting ready to go on a hike in Colorado, I dug deep into the pockets of the diaper bag, searching for the bottle of sunscreen. What I found was this:
A little in-church illustration Addie had made to pass the time. I'm sure it got shoved in the bottom of the bag, along with the church bulletin, half a dozen Matchbox cars, and Tripp's supply of Cheerios. And it chose to surface on that particular day, which, I know, doesn't seem like a big deal. But it is. Because just that week I'd run across a dog - named Rosie BTW - on the Humane Society's website.
Cut to July 31 and Isaac, Tripp, Landry, my mom and I walking out of the Humane Society with this little gal (not before sending a quick text to Scott that said something like "oh yes we did").
So, like I said: this is a story of a rescue dog sent to rescue us. And I'd like to wrap up the story all nice and tidy and end it right here.
But I can't.
Because there have been days when I've wondered if Addie was playing a big, fat joke on us.
Days like these:
|Landry's learned how to string two sentences together since|
Rosie's arrival. "Ro-Ro, no. Cage."
I guess that's not really an escape attempt, huh?
Then there was the string of counter-jumping incidents, complete with broken dishes and a shredded Pringles can.
Here's the loaf of bread she retrieved from our pantry. And sampled.
And then there's the fact she hasn't exactly been Scott's biggest fan - even though he's the one who feeds her and walks her every morning. She howls and growls just about every time he walks through the door. And Scott's resorted to howling and growling back.
But I think she's coming around.
In all seriousness, Rosie is a great dog, and I do believe she was meant to be our dog.
Thanks, Addie, for giving us the nudge and always reminding us that "animals are people too."