I love my dogs so, so, so much. All six of them. I have no favorite. They each have my whole heart because they are uniquely and perfectly themselves.
People, who are not me, tend to fall into two categories:
Oh my God. That’s too many. You need to find new homes for some of them.
Oh my God. You are living the dream.
To the people in the two categories, I say:
Fuck you. It’s a good thing it’s not your life.
I KNOW! IT’S THE BEST THING EVER.
Boys, Duke and Knight, relaxing before the vet comes in.
Life changed extravagantly after I adopted one dog. Life changed completely when I rescued fourteen and kept five. It wasn’t the plan, but I’m so happy with what is. Six dogs complicates life a bit. From travel to going out to having handy people over, there was some adjusting. Things run smoothly now, but there was a learning curve to knowing what works and what does not. They all bring their own personalities, preferences, and quirks to each and every day. We honor those but also maintain boundaries and rules to ensure the house, family, and pack are safe, happy, and healthy.
Today I want to talk about the adventure that is going to the vet. It used to be a simple and seamless experience. One dog. Once a year. With check ins if something was out of the norm. It was easy and as inexpensive as having a rescue dog can be.
Having six dogs… Going to the vet is an affair. When the puppies were puppies, we would load all thirteen in laundry baskets and head to the vet with Tess in tow. As they got older, we would pile them into the back seat, two at a time, until all thirteen were in. Then the same on our way into the vet’s office. Now that I have six permanent dogs instead of one, I have an entirely new process of spacing our vet trips out for two reasons:
They’re huge. I can’t imagine trying to wrangle 408 pounds of dog into the vet all at one time. It would be a nightmare. Also my car isn’t big enough. I have enough self respect and self worth to not attempt.
Money. Financially taking all the dogs to the vet at one time is extravagant.
This first year has been rough. I wouldn’t have it any other way [unless healthy dogs was an option, then I would have it that way], but it was expensive. A lot of the expense was expected, but there was a good amount that wasn’t. Tess was heartworm positive when I picked her up off the side of the road. Duke had to have dental surgery to fix his face and give him a good quality of life. Both expected expenses. Makeda ended up getting a very serious eye infection and had to have lots of tests to ensure she wouldn’t lose her eye. Good news, she’s totally fine. Duke ended up having repeated x-rays and MRIs because he has some skeletal issues. Upside, he will grow out of them, but it’s been both painful and frequent for the last ten months and will continue for eight more. Tessa had emergency surgery because she got a cut too close to her shnoot. Knight has SEVERE allergies, which did not present as allergies at first. Many tests later, it’s an easy but lifelong battle we both get to enjoy. Duke [that boy is chalk full of problems], is having mouth problems again, so back we go to the doggy oral surgeon. All of these were unexpected, but we made it work because they’re our babies. And what was I going to spend that money on anyways? Probably fancy restaurant food. I like my dogs more than fancy restaurant food. Worth it.
Knight protecting Duke from the mean, mean vet with the pokey stick of health and wellness.
I did the math. Just to cover costs of heartworm prevention, vaccines, and check ups, it costs almost $1600 a year in Houston, Texas for six dogs. In my house, yearly vet check ups are non-negotiable. I decided to spread out the check ups to two a month in the summer. Knight and Duke in June. Bear and Makeda in July. Tess and Beau in August. It makes it easier to wrangle at the vet and easier to wrangle my wallet.
Budgeting is super important when it comes to having six dogs. From food to supplements to saving for the inevitable yearly check ups to saving for the oopsies. I knew all of this when we decided to take on five more doggos. I have made budgets, plans, and adjustments in our life. I wouldn’t call the things I’ve given up “sacrifices;” they are adjustments. We adjusted. I gave up some trips and some fancy restaurants, but we have gained so, so much more by including them in our family and life. Even Beau loves having them around; I never thought I would say that.
I don’t want anyone to think this is me complaining. This is 100% me not complaining. BUT it is me being honest. Honest about the financial commitment of properly taking care of six dogs. Adopting is more than just bringing home a cute dog and feeding it and taking it potty. Like children and adults, they require training, medical check ups, vaccines, medication, and attention when things happen. Just like humans, dogs can and will get sick, have injuries, and more. Those take both time and money. So often, people think and talk about the time commitment that must be made when taking on a dog or two or six. We don’t talk about the monetary aspect of having a pack and the things that can and do come up.
Celebratory “it’s all over” puppaccinos for the very goodest boys.
I count myself lucky to take on the joys and challenges of raising six fur babies with my awesome co-parent. We share the responsibilities, financial, time, and physical, of raising and tending to them. There’s a give and take for both of us; a balance we have happily managed to find.
So if you’re contemplating adopting a dog or growing your pack and want to chat about what that means, I’m always here! I love talking about my babies and hearing from passionate dog parents.
Immediately after picking Tess up from the vet after her first heartworm shot last Friday.
Pupdate Time
Tessa came into my life as a sad, heavily pregnant dog I literally picked up off the side of the highway and placed in my car on February 26, 2020. The next morning, I took her to the vet to get her and the puppies checked out. Among other things,we found out she is heartworm positive.
This isn’t the first time we have been through a heartworm journey. Six months after adopting Beau, we found out she was heartworm positive. Beau has been heartworm free for two and a half years. With Beau, we were able to start the treatment right away because she was [as] healthy [as she could be outside of the heartworms.] In an ideal world, we would have started Tess’ treatment schedule the day we found out, but it isn’t. Tess was pregnant, and treating heartworms is not safe for the pregnancy or the puppies while she nursed. We also needed to build up her strength, weight, and health. Having been a street dog, she was not in any condition to take on or survive the treatment. We started her on Heartgard (heartworm prevention) immediately to keep her from getting reinfected. Our focus was on getting her healthy and having some babies!
With both Tess and Beau, we have chosen to go with the gold standard of heartworm treatment. It’s expensive and takes time, but for us, it’s worth it. Everyone’s heartworm journey and circumstances are different. The path we have taken starts by keeping Tess calm. She’s about a year and a half, loves to play with her rambunctious kiddos, and wants to keep up with Beau more than anything. So calm has been difficult. You want to keep heartworm positive dogs calm because it lowers the risk of the worms spreading throughout the body. Once Tess had weaned the puppies, we started with a month of antibiotics to kill parasites that live symbiotically with the heartworms. After that month, there is a month off of medicine to give her body time to recover and time for those damn parasites to DIE. After the month-long waiting period, there is a shot to start killing heartworms. There’s an x-ray to see how much damage has been done and to make sure the treatment is even worth doing. If the damage is too extensive, it’s better and more humane to give palliative care. Heartworm shots are like chemo. They are very hard on the body and some dogs don’t make it through the treatment. We almost lost Beau after the first shot. Once the x-ray has been done and the all clear has been given, puppy gets shot one. They spend the day at the vet for observation to make sure there are no adverse reactions. The first shot is the hardest because it does the majority of heartworm killing. There is a month of severe activity restriction, steroids, and in many cases sedatives. The second and third shots come a month later and are given 24 hours apart. Puppy will go in one morning and get the second shot, stay the night for observation, have the third shot the next morning, and go home that evening. Another month of restricted activity, steroids, and sedatives. Physical activity can slowly be worked into the routine a month after the third shot. Six months after the third shot, another heartworm test is done to make sure the treatment was successful.
Tess is starting to feel better. The head cock is back.
Last Friday, Tess had the first shot. We started her on the antibiotics on June 1. July was her month of rest, and she will go in for her second and third shots the beginning of September.
Before having the first shot, we had x-rays taken. The news was not as good as we hoped, but it could have been worse. With Beau, we caught it early, and the heartworms stayed in her heart. With Tess, the heartworms traveled into her lungs and set up camp. Her heart is quite enlarged. Neither is good news. Permanent damage has been done. Best case scenario, she will live a long and happy life. But there is a chance her years will be significantly lessened due to the damage. Whatever the outcome, we are doing everything we can to make sure she is happy, healthy, and loved for however long she is with us.
The first night went pretty well. Tess was happy to be home but extremely exhausted and lethargic. Day two and three were terrible. She was exploding liquid from all her orifices. She was so sick and couldn’t keep anything in her tiny body. She and I sat outside in the grass for three hours in the middle of the night on Saturday as she dry heaved into the grass. It’s so hard to watch, and it’s even harder because I can’t explain what’s happening or why she feels terrible. Her symptoms are normal and expected because the treatment is a lot like chemo: it makes her feel awful in order to feel better. Late Sunday night, she started to feel better, and her smile came back.
Tess has been a trooper. The pep in her step hasn’t gone away even though she is heavily sedated. Every morning, she wakes up excited to be alive and prancing outside to go potty. Every time she hears the pill bottle open, she comes running because she knows it’s treat time aka meds time. It breaks my heart not being able to play with her the way she wants to play; hopefully the next two months will go by quickly.
Heartworms sucks. It sucks a little less this time around because the process wasn’t foreign. In some ways, Tess is having an easier time than Beau did. Having the puppies and Beau has kept Tessa’s spirits high. The puppies are completely oblivious to the changes, but Beau is so concerned that her best friend doesn’t feel good. Tess is constantly surrounded by toys because Beau keeps bringing her toys and giving her get well soon kisses.
I’m lucky that we’re able to give Tess and Beau the best treatment available, but it breaks my heart that it’s necessary. As a street dog, Tess didn’t have anyone looking out for her. Beau was in and out of homes, and the shelter didn’t prevent heartworms.
HEARTWORMS IS COMPLETELY PREVENTABLE.
In the South, it’s not an if but a when your dog will get heartworms if you do not give them heartworm prevention. It is so very important. The treatment to get rid of heartworms is extremely expensive and painful and not a guaranteed fix. If you have a dog, put them on prevention all year round. It could save their life. There are options. Heartgard is a monthly tablet. ProHeart is a shot you can have administered once a year at their annual check up. Just do it. It’s cheaper than getting rid of them and saves your heart the pain of having to watch your beloved pet go through something this awful. Believe me, I KNOW!!!!
I love the puppies more than life itself. They bring so much love and happiness into my life. There is more laughter and cuddles and smiles and playtime and kisses than I’ve had in years. Each and every one of them is unique with their own preciously perfect personality. They are a blessing. I don’t regret for a second the choice to bring Tess home or keep her knowing she was expecting thirteen puppies. They are joy and sunshine incarnate.
The struggle is real.
I cried in the rain on Sunday morning. Utterly defeated. I plead with thirteen itty-bitty puppies with tears streaming down my face trying to keep a smile in my voice asking them to be still for just two seconds. Of course, they didn’t listen. I was trying to bring them inside after they ate breakfast, when it started to rain suddenly. They’re so big, I can only carry four in a laundry basket up the stairs at a time without the risk of dropping their wiggly, squirming bodies. I had woken up at 4:45 when Tess nudged me awake to walk down the hall with her to check on her babies. They were content in a clean pen. I was up an hour later to thirteen puppies howling, covered in poop, with their sheets looking like Jackson Pollock showed up with a puppy poop inspiration. It was warm enough outside, I let them out into the backyard as the sun came up with their mama. It took me two hours to clean the sheets, pick up the puppy pads, sanitize, and re-set up. By 8:15 in the morning, I had gotten two and a half hours of sleep (not at once), cleaned, fed, and cried trying to not step on one, keep them out of the rain, and get them back into their upstairs room without waking up Amanda and her husband.
Sunday was a bad day, but it is also the norm.
All jokes aside, it really is a good thing they’re cute. If they were ugly demon-spawn, I don’t know if it would be worth it.
Most nights, I get three hours of sleep, non-consecutive. If they don’t wake me up, Tess does. She may be their mama, but I’m her mama. Less than two months ago, she was living on the streets, pregnant, and alone. She doesn’t want to be alone anymore. She wants company wherever she goes, and she’s tired from nursing and taking care of thirteen puppies. I don’t blame her. She’s young and has had a really tough life; I’m her person now. I am running on empty. I am exhausted. Dylan can’t help because he’s at the apartment with Beau. Amanda and Andrew help, but they’ve already opened up their home to us; it’s not their responsibility.
I’m at the vet’s office about once a week. I think we’re keeping them in business during COVID-19. Check up, dewclaw removal, puppy strangles, more check ups, and other things have made us regulars. Today, I had to take Tess because she suddenly developed hot spots around her neck under her collar. It was terrifying. I felt horrible. She’s so laid back, she didn’t even let me know she was hurting. Luckily, a week of twice-a-day antibiotics and steroids should clear it up, but we’ll know when we go to the vet [again] for a check up next Wednesday.
Instead of having weeks to plan for one new dog or even puppies… I had five days. There was no money set aside for this. I’m a planner. I like to have a plan and savings and a contingency and more savings. That was not possible here. Luckily, Dylan and I are in a position to take on this responsibility financially and spatially, but it’s drained those accounts, and we’ve even put some on our credit card, which I hate to do. But it’s what we had to do because I was watching Oryol gasp for air, and a little debt was not going to stop me from saving his, Athena, and Knight’s lives. Tess has a lot of health issues to take care of once the puppies are weaned and she’s recovered. Thirteen puppies is a big litter, which means a bigger price tag. They’ve had health issues, which adds to that even more. Paying for vet bills, tests, x-rays, ultrasounds, emergency ER visits, steroids, antibiotics, vaccinations, etc. Not to mention the 36 puppy pads we go through, the two loads of laundry I do, the half can of puppy formula, the six pounds of dog food EVERY DAY. Plus teething toys, sheets, towels, fences, troughs, and all the miscellaneous items we’ve bought to make their lives easier. Amazon has limited the number of puppy pads we can buy because of coronavirus, so I’ve had to ask friends and family to send some to me because we need them.
They’re big puppies. Now, they’re big enough to run, jump, and play. It’s so fun to run around with them and watch them hop like awkward deer. It also means a swarm. A swarm under foot and the risk of stepping on one and hurting them, which means I’m always barefoot. I can’t feel what’s under my feet in shoes, so I don’t wear them to know when I can put weight on my foot and when I can’t. A running swarm means they rush to any open door, person, or thing they want. It means I have to create barriers, which they’ll find a way passed. I have to let five puppies in while I get down on my hands and knees to push and hold them back so I can close the door so they don’t get hurt so I can take them upstairs so they can be safe without having the rest of the puppies loose to roam free pooping, peeing, and wreaking havoc on the ground floor. It’s amazing what can happen in a minute and a half. The swarm means getting frustrated to tears because I can’t put their food down without spilling it all over them and myself and wherever we are. The swarm means mountains of poop and pee. The swarm means never being able to keep up and keep track. The swarm means letting go of showering, organization, and folding laundry. The swarm means accepting the new stress wrinkles they’ve gifted me. The swarm means I have gotten very, very good at counting to thirteen (five times) because I’m terrified one will be forgotten. The swarm means when one starts howling, thirteen start howling… day or night. The swarm means I’m one step away from complete anarchy.
My life is so completely filled with love and happiness. That love and happiness comes with a price. I’m not complaining, but thirteen puppies is a lot of physical work and a huge financial responsibility. Instagram and cute pictures do not show the late nights, the tears, the frustrations, the isolation, the debt, or any of the other hard bits. Not to mention, I’m always finding poop on my clothes and skin. When I don’t have poop on me, there’s a phantom poo smell haunting the depths of my nostrils. They are absolutely wonderful, but it’s hard. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and I took care of a human baby for a long time. So don’t let Instagram fool you. My quaranteam is not bliss. It’s heaven if heaven were coated in poo, tears, and exhaustion.
bisous und обьятий, RaeAnna
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Welcome to the family Tess, Siren, March, Knight, Hardy, Duke, Nosky, Hera, Boudica, Makeda, Lily-May, Athena, Oryol, and Bear.
No this is not an April Fool’s prank. This is real life. Sorry I’ve been keeping it from you, but we wanted to find some equilibrium before announcing it to the world. Here is a cliff notes version of a much longer story.
Exactly five weeks ago, I was driving to an event in Houston on a frontage road during rush hour when I saw a small and seemingly very pregnant dog on the side of the road. Nothing pulls on my heartstrings more than a homeless dog. I was driving too fast to stop. I quickly flipped around and stopped traffic in high heels and a skirt to make sure she made it across the road to safety. I knelt in a fallow field as people sped home to their families, holding out my hand, wishing I had dog treats in my car, crossing my fingers my car didn’t get hit all while looking at a very skittish dog, hoping she wouldn’t run away. It took thirty seconds before she picked up a mutilated bird wing and dropped it at my feet. My heart broke as I touched her head for the first time. A minute later, I took a calculated risk by picking her up. Instead of biting me or struggling to get free, her body relaxed into mine as I carried her across the field to place her in the back seat of my car. She immediately curled up and let out the biggest sigh.
Once I was back on the highway, I called Dylan. “Hi, honey. I have a dog in the car.” “I didn’t know you took Beau with you.” I paused, “It’s a different dog, and she’s pregnant.” He paused for even longer, “Oh. Well. Okay. I’ll be home soon, and we’ll talk.” Then I called my bestie, Kelsey, and asked, “What the fuck did I just do.”
Before I brought this new and unknown dog into the house, I put Beau in her box to make sure both would be safe and quarantined. It took ten minutes to bring the new dog through the front door. She was scared and didn’t know what a doorway was. I didn’t want to push her or make her feel uncomfortable, so I sat down, petting her head until she walked far enough in so I could shut the door. I laid a blanket down for her with a bowl of water and food. She drank two full bowls of water and nibbled on the dog food before she laid down and closed her eyes. Her belly was huge. Her nipples were about to burst. I could see the movement of tiny puppies in her stomach. My family had a litter of puppies when I was fourteen, so I knew the signs and what to look for. We had maybe a week before the puppies would arrive.
Dylan walked through the door and made eye contact with the cutest stray you ever did see. I saw his heart melt. We talked for a long time about keeping her or contacting a rescue. Taking on a stray is a big commitment. Taking on a pregnant stray is a HUGE commitment. I knew she would be ours in the field, but I didn’t want to push Dylan into that decision if he wasn’t comfortable with it.
That night we [I] gave her the name Tess. We decided to lengthen it to Tessa because Dylan likes that a little better. Her name comes from the titular character in Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy. The plot mimics Tessa’s own story, in a way, but with a happier ending. We gave her a bath, fed her, and loved on her.
A call to the vet happened immediately the next morning. We kept hoping she would be microchipped by a home with someone desperately searching for her. No such luck. Dylan and I knew at that moment, we had a second dog. We spent three hours at the vet running a full panel of tests, x-rays, blood work, ultrasounds, and more to make sure Tess and the babies were healthy as can be and, at least, not contagious before we brought her home to Beau. After a once over, we found out Tess is maybe a year old. The vet came in with the results from all the tests, and it wasn’t all great news. Honestly, it was mostly bad news. Tess had hookworms and tapeworms. We put her on pregnancy safe dewormers to take care of that problem. As expected in a street dog, she has heartworms. We won’t be able to treat that until she has weaned the babies, but she is on heartworm prevention to keep it from getting worse. That will be a process to take care over the next year. Then, the vet told us we were expecting THIRTEEN puppies. Tess isn’t very big. She weighed 52 pounds pregnant. I didn’t think she could fit more than eight babies in her tummy. The vet pulled out the x-ray saying, “Here is where the pellet is.” My brain didn’t register it at first. My dog. My pregnant dog had been shot in the spine. I don’t understand. I can’t understand it. It makes me want to cry thinking about it. I was trying to register and process that this small, young, helpless dog was full of fleas, worms, heartworms, a pellet, and thirteen babies. Other than that, she was healthy, and sweet. The vet prepared us to only have nine puppies survive because of the amount of puppies in the litter and the fact she had been living on the street for probably ever. Oh, and the puppies could arrive any time between now and a week. Hurry, hurry, hurry.
Tess looked at me with the most soulful eyes and the biggest, pointy ears, and I knew we would do everything in our power to make her happy and healthy.
After paying a small fortune at the vet, we took her home and made her comfortable. Then we headed to Petsmart where we spent another small fortune to get puppy formula, crate, blankets, collar, leash, dog food, dog bowls, puppy pads, bottles, flea collars, flea baths, flea bombs, puppy shampoo, and more. We bought a kiddy pool for Tess to whelp in, syringes, thermometers, and more at Target. Then we hopped on Amazon to order towels, blankets, bleach, sheets, and more. Normally, people have two months to prepare and spread out the cost of puppies before they arrive. Not only did we not have days, we also had to get everything for our new dog. Those first eighteen hours were very, VERY expensive .
What made this whole thing harder was the fact I had to leave town two days later. Dylan had never whelped puppies. I had, but I had agreed to watch my cousin in New Orleans a year prior to this. I couldn’t back out. Dylan had to work that weekend, and he was stressed out of his mind trying to be a prepared doggy daddy. We tried to board Tess at a 24 hour vet office to make sure she was taken care of while Dylan was at work. That ended up being a complete nightmare, I will talk about that more in another blog post. Instead, we bought cameras to watch Tess in the puppy room and relied on my best friend, Amanda, to come over and lend a hand. I headed to New Orleans, hoping Tess would wait a week to have the puppies. In the meantime, I watched the cameras like a crazy person.
Makeda and Me
Five days after I brought Tess home, she went into labor. Fourteen hours later, Siren, the first puppy, arrived at 3:45 in the afternoon. It took seventeen hours for all thirteen puppies to arrive. My best friend, Amanda, came and helped. I was on Skype, as Overwatch, the entire time, letting them know when a puppy was coming and what to do when they needed help. We almost lost Tess between puppy ten and eleven, but she made it through. The three of us were up all night; it was exhausting and stressful. Dylan and Amanda were absolute champs. With every squeaking puppy, we let out excited cries. All thirteen puppies survived.
At two weeks old, we had a huge scare. Oryol, Athena, and Knight’s necks started to harden and swell very quickly. The swelling started at their necks and worked towards their faces, closing their eyes. It looked bad, but what was even worse was the swelling was cutting off their air supply making them wheeze and cough for air. We loaded Tess and all thirteen puppies into the car with blankets and pillows to head to the Blue Pearl Vet in Spring, a 24 hour animal ER, at 8:45 at night. We were prepared to stay as long as we had to with credit cards in hand willing to pay whatever price we needed to. All the puppies came with because the swelling came on so suddenly, I couldn’t bear to leave the puppies at home and risk another one getting sick. The Coronavirus hysteria had started, so we weren’t able to go inside with our three sick puppies. The vet was baffled by the case. They went on a regimen of steroids and broad spectrum antibiotics to take care of anything it could be because it would be days before pathology could confirm if it was viral, bacterial, or autoimmune. We were hoping it was an autoimmune disease; the other options meant a possibility of losing the entire litter and even Tess. After pathology and all sorts of other small fortunes were spent, we found out it was a wildly atypical case of the rare autoimmune disease: Puppy Strangles. It doesn’t occur in puppies younger than three weeks, which is why it was such a rare case. The fact three puppies had it at the same time in the space of an hour made it even more uncommon. Normally, it is not lethal, but because they were so small, had we waited much longer they would have strangled to death. They’re still on steroids, but they’re doing great and should be off them in a week!
Coronavirus sucks. Honestly, it couldn’t have come at a better time for me, though. I was supposed to go on a three week trip to Europe, which was cancelled because of the pandemic. Also because of the pandemic, work has been very slow, and Dylan and I are stuck at home with the puppies all day. It’s an amazing way to spend our quarantine, and I’m not in Europe missing out on this preciously short time.
Dillies and Bear
Tess is the sweetest dog you ever did meet. Beau and her love each other. They are becoming the best of friends, taking on the other’s habits and falling asleep snuggling. Tess is becoming exhausted and drained from all the nursing, but she is doing an amazing job. Thirteen teething puppies with only eight functional nipples does not make for a happy mama. I can’t imagine what she’s going through, but we’re loving her fiercely through it all. Beau is obsessed with the puppies. Whenever they squeak, Beau runs in to check on them. Tess sees Beau taking care of things and lays back down. They’re coparenting, and it makes my heart so happy. Beau is torn between being enamored and terrified of the puppies. She wants to play with them so badly, and they’re now old enough they have started to play back.
My thirteen poop factories keep me busy doing laundry. And I mean a LOT of laundry. I’m a laundry goddess. They are the cutest things in the whole world, which makes it all worthwhile.
Last week, at three weeks old, my bestie, Jenn, took family pictures. We wanted to capture all thirteen babies, Tess, Beau, Dylan, and I before they’re zooming all over the place in complete and utter chaos. They turned out so cute. I will treasure them forever.
They’re officially one month old today. It’s an amazing age. They are walking and talking and playing. They mimic Beau’s boxerish play tactics. A herd of puppies run to me whenever I get near. I spend all day cuddling them when I’m not cleaning up. They are perfect and delightful and too good for this world.
The only reason I knew I could bring a heavily pregnant dog home off the side of the street was because Dylan would have done the exact same thing. When we started dating, he knew this was the kind of person I am, and he signed on anyways. He had been pushing to get a second dog for the last two years. I have been very resistant to it because dogs are a lot of work and a lot of money. I love them to death, but it is hard to travel with one dog let alone two. The Monday before Tess came home, I had told Dylan we were absolutely NOT bringing a second dog into the house. By Wednesday we had two. A week and a half later, we had fifteen dogs. I guess I was wrong. I couldn’t be happier about our circus.
