Well, actually he just has kennel cough (we think). He's been hacking quite a bit for the last two days, and yesterday the owner of the day care we take him to once a week called and said there's been an outbreak and she's closing up shop for a week. So, I'm taking him to the vet this afternoon after work. I also want to rule out canine flu, but I don't really think he has that because apart from his cough, he appears to be his normal, hyper, furry self. Yesterday we were playing chase in the yard (we have a small, square backyard, and one of our favorite games is to have me stand in the middle and turn in circles, saying, "I'm gonna getcha!" as he races around me with a toy in his mouth. Picture someone training a young horse to trot on a lead in a ring, and you have the idea). Anyway, periodically he would screech to a halt, drop the toy, hack up a lung or two, pick the toy back up, and continue to run in circles.

My mother once said that a dog is the equivalent of a third of a child. She meant this in terms of the time and effort it takes to care for them. This is true, I believe. Unlike a child, we can stick him in his kennel for 3 hours with a toy and go out to dinner without having CPS declare us unfit parents. On the other hand, it would be a rare and talented child who could strip all the bark off one side of the oak tree with his teeth, or knaw apart two separate garden hoses, a wallet, a bicycle helmet, a hardback copy of To Kill A Mockingbird, a blueberry plant, numerous shirts and socks, and a pair of winter boots bought on deep discount at DSW. So, I guess in the long run it all evens out.

When we first got him last year, we joked about how caring for him would be good practice for having a baby (especially in the first few weeks, as he tended to bark erratically during the night when he heard something outside--right next to our bedroom window). At the time (last May), we hadn't even started trying to conceive--we were in the stage of joyful (and somewhat freaked out) anticipation. At the time, I was innocent enough to assume that by the time May, 2006 rolled around, we might very well have a newborn. Oh well.

In the meantime, we have him. He repays us for all his chewed and muddy items by rolling on his back for tummy rubs, by sitting on our feet when we are watching tv, by propping his chin on the bed and voicing his displeasure that we are still sleeping and letting this marvelous day go to waste, by running with obvious glee to the car when he knows we are going to the park.

I love my dog.