Fur and Fireworks

When we adopted Maddy two years ago, my wife and I noticed right away that she was scared often. She's a big dog, something like 85 pounds right now, so seeing her climb to the top of the back of the couch to try to hide from thunder or the boom of fireworks is cute and sad in a way that's hard to articulate. You know she has nothing to be scared about, but you'll never able to convince her. You just have to sit with her while she shivers.

Last year, in an attempt to teach Maddy how to be a better social dog, we added another dog to the family. Melody is boisterous and playful and not afraid of much of anything, except for getting in trouble with us. When we first got her, she would run away every single chance she got. She also broke out of her crate more than once, ripped up some carpet in one of our rooms, and even chased a neighborhood dog around its own yard when she slipped out of her harness.

Today, we added a third dog to our house. We're calling her Maisy and she's already captured the hearts of every single person we've come across. She's a lot smaller than the other two dogs we have, but she's only 5 months old, so time will tell if we become an exclusively big dog house.

Here she is with some high-octane charm. (Her leg is shaved because she was just spayed and they had to use anesthesia)

Here she is with some high-octane charm. (Her leg is shaved because she was just spayed and they had to use anesthesia)

Now you might ask yourself, and maybe rightly so, why we'd try to add another dog when we've got our hands full already. Besides the obviously "look at that face" answer, I think I have another one.

Melody doesn't run away anymore. Maddy doesn't hide wherever she can when the winds pick up and a storm starts coming. By just loving them as best as we can, we're healing them, even just a little. It's obvious to say, but I know they're doing the same for us.

And when you have that, it's hard not to want more of it.