My parents are getting a dog.
We’ve always been a doggy family. (And, no, I don’t mean that I used to pee on the rug!) When I was a toddler, the family dog, a Collie named “Lady”, taught me how to walk. Literally! I used to grab onto her and she would walk forward very slowly, dragging me to my feet. Then she would slowly walk forward while I held on for balance. She was a great old dog. Patient as the day was long. 
Then, when I was a kid, I had my own little mutt, “Happy”. I named her “Happy” because she seemed so happy to get out of that cage and come home with us. She slept curled up on my lap all the way home. We adopted her from a place called Lamb’s Farm. It was, and I presume, still is, a place that severly developmentally disabled people who are still functional can live and work. The pet adoption was one of the things they did to raise money to support the Farm. It was a good place and I have fond memories of going there as a kid.
Of course, I’ve already posted about my latest doggy happenings. But, before I committed to mutts, my parents were all into pure-bred dogs. Well, now, they’ve gone and gotten themselves a Cardigan Welsh Corgi. They’re like the Pembrooke Welsh Corgis, only the Cardigans keep their tail. And, they’re the breed that the Queen raises, or so my mother tells me. They’ve named their dog, Duchess, and they pick her up in another week, or so, from the breeder. In the meantime, though, you can click on the thumbnail and see a nice big picture of her. Isn’t she a little heartbreaker? I think I need to volunteer for H.O.P.E. this weekend!
