Doggie Dearest

Northwestern Connecticut has it's fair share of unpredictable weather. And it seems that with crazy weather comes odd behavior! Last Friday was no exception. Rain showers and a thunderstorm passed through our town into the wee hours of Saturday morning. To tell you the truth, I probably wouldn't have noticed (again, the perma-exhaustion thing) if it weren't for my four-legged "son" Jack, who incessantly paced our bedroom, his toenails click click clicking on the cool hardwood floor.

Let me back up and introduce you (if I haven't already) to our beloved Jackie. Half golden retriever, half husky, Jack is the epitome of man's best friend. He's loyal, lovable and gentle with Carter and the babies. Jack is always ready for a game of catch and always good for a laugh. Take for instance, his new haircut. Poor Jack is freshly shaven, save his bushy tail and the normal fur on his head. Put it this way-As we led him out of the groomer's and into the back of the Jeep, I was embarrassed FOR him. Anyway, weighing in at about 75 pounds, he in no way, shape or form looks like a wimpy pup. Sadly, this couldn't be further from the truth. This dog is the biggest baby on the planet.

So back to the thunderstorm. On this particular night, Landon had decided to grace us with his presence, lying between us in our seemingly small queen sized bed. Shortly after his arrival the thunder began in the distance. Thus, the pacing began. Back and forth in the pitch black room. He would lie down. Stand up. Walk over to Ben's side. Lie down over there. Stand up, shake it off, walk over to my side. Let me tell you ladies, if you think that sleeping an inch away from your husband's face is bad, you should get a load of the hot steamy breath of a panting pooch greeting you when you roll over in the dark, with only his shadow illuminated by the lightning outside.

Before I knew it, Jack had jumped up onto the bed. In the past, we probably would have let him stay. The poor thing is simply terrified of thunder. I can't blame him really because I tend to be fearful of storms as well. However, with the little one next to us and his non-stop restlessness we just couldn't chance it.

I turned to Ben as the two of us lay there shielding our 4 month old from the hyperventilating dog who loomed over us. "Go get his drops". Although fearful, I am proud to say that unlike Jackie, I do not need medication to help me through thunderstorms. That's right ladies and gentlemen, our dog takes an herbal remedy to help with his anxiety. Just a few drops on his cute little nose, which he promptly licks off, can usually help him calm down. I'm told that it has the same effect as Bourbon, which OK...I'll admit it, sounded really great right about then.

I'm not sure which came first, the tail end of the storm or Jackie's special cocktail kicking in, but we did manage to get back to sleep that night. As I lay there in the darkness, dawn on the horizon and the last remnants of heavy rain hitting my windows, I couldn't help but think to myself (for the billionth time) "I live in a zoo". As I rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock's familiar red glow I forced myself to close my eyes because I knew it was only a matter of time before someone snored, cried, barked or tackled me, leaving me no choice but to start my day for good. Besides, I thought, it's any one's guess which combination of little boys/dog would be joining me for a slumber party the next night!