It's Mauve! Or, around Isaac, we refer to her as "the dog." Mom & Mauve sound pretty similar, so we're starting with dog and working up to her name to hopefully eliminate any baby babbling confusion. Because apparently when I was a babbling baby, my mom often confused "bunny-unny" (my favorite toy) with "Bert & Ernie" (the sesame street characters). Incidentally, I'm pretty certain Isaac is saying some form of the word "dog" which when repeated over & over, sounds pretty close to Dada. I guess nobody wins this one. I digress.
Oh, the dog the dog the dog. Sometimes you're a handful.
Sure, you may stare and drool over every meal we eat in your presence.
Sure, your dumps are the size of small countries in our back yard.
Sure, you sigh and groan when someone wakes you up from a peaceful slumber.
But I know you love us with every little fiber of your doggy being.
You're loyal even when we overlook you or fail to play with you. You're our great protector, but are always quick to give love and slobber to new friends and visitors. You love Isaac and grow very concerned about him when he makes that loud, shrieky noise. You're patient with him and his little fingers when they want to poke your nose and pull your fur. You're faithful to always camp out and nap right under my feet, even if that means I inadvertently step on you on an almost daily basis. You might just gain about 10 extra pounds catching all of Isaac's thrown food, but I am thankful for our little black Hoover. I know you can tell when I'm overwhelmed and having a bad day, because you give me that look and then stay out of my hair. Your antics still make me laugh, and now make Isaac laugh too.
You're a good girl, Mauve.
Even though you'll never actually read this post.
Because you can't read.
You're a dog for goodness sake.