When Oldest Bro moved back home, he brought a yellow Labrador with him. That fella was named Toby, and he was big, and lovable, and a little dumb. Anyway, he gave up the ghost this past spring after making it to the ripe old age of fourteen, which is like Methuselah age for a Lab. And even though this was my Oldest Bro's dog, my Mom kinda fell in love with having a dog in the house. Which is how my parents came to be the proud parents of a chocolate Labrador for about three days.
The reason for the short span of ownership? She's a sweetie, but too much for my parents to handle. She zipped over the fence and ran away about five times over the course of those three days. So, they ended up giving her back to the breeder. I feel kinda bad for my Mom, because her brother recently passed away, and I think that she was looking for a little four-legged comfort.
Honestly, I'd love for them to get a smaller dog, because I want my kids to be exposed to pets so that they aren't afraid of them. But man, I don't want to walk them. A dog, I mean. I love walking my kids. Walking with them. They aren't on leashes. Well, the boy was almost leashed once upon a time, but he doesn't attempt to run into the street anymore. Bully for me, eh?
The funny side of all of this? The dog's name was the same as Super Ninja's sister, which was REALLY going to confuse the kids. Not only that, but I'm sure that little fact would've given Super Ninja a migraine. My name, Super Ninja's sister, and of course "Mommy" all start with "M," and Super Ninja already can't call us by the right moniker. A double dose of his sister's name would break the camel's back, or brain, as it were, and he would never call any of us by the right name again.