Three dog pileup

Gazza and I met up with another brown "doodle" at Magnuson who is in love with her. They wrestled for a while as we walked around Magnuson under a beautiful blue sky after work. It was awesome.

Then this evening at church something happened. To say I lost my marbles would be an understatement. To say the marble bag exploded would be more accurate. I don't know why, but I was hit with an emotional wave. To be honest, I'm still not completely sure where it all came from. Wherever the origin, I had a good cry with some girlfriends (punctuated with many, many hugs) about things like life and this (courtesy of my preceptor).

It's not ok when kids suffer these illnesses. It's just not. Why am I feeling this more acutely than with adults? I mean, I take their troubles hard too, but this is ridiculous. I'm certainly not the first person to struggle with it, and I'm trying to use the support I've been given, but in the end it's just so wrong. God is here... but I don't know where to find him.

Over the past three and a half months, people at various times have asked me why I got a dog. My answer is sort of tailored to the situation, but it boils down to this: I prayed hard for the right dog because it's time. While she may be a handful (usually of money wads headed distally), she's mine and I love her.

She's my happy little shadow who makes me laugh (like when she fell out of bed last night) and keeps me company. I like to think she feels the same about me. Tonight when I crawl into bed, her fuzzy face will be right next to me, shamelessly asking for belly rubs and more room on the bed. So while the world may be a beautiful mess, Gazza makes my little corner of it more sensible.