I am sitting on the floor of the basement with Maizie beside me. She's warm and is breathing slowly. She smells like herself. (Side note: I have also thought that Maizie had a unique smell. It's not dog; it's better than that. Something like grains, but wholly her. I have always loved her smell.) Maizie has been the best girl. I vividly remember when we learned about her. I had been looking for dogs and wanted the friendliest breed: a lab/golden retriever mix. While playing Dixit in our apartment in Baltimore with friends from grad school, our friend, Meagan, said that her mom's dog was having puppies and she thought that they were lab/golden retrievers. (Another side note... we were drinking. Maybe Meagan didn't say this. Maybe this is just what I heard because it was what I wanted to hear. But, by the time that we learned that they were not lab/golden retrievers, but rather an odd mix of dachshund, catahoula hound, and lab, I was smitten with the idea and too far
My firstborn is 8 today and we have had the best day together. He has been sweet, enthusiastic, and appreciative. The weather has been beautiful. It's been wonderful. Milo is sweet, enthusiastic, and (sometimes) appreciative. He doesn't like it when I'm mad at him and is quick to apologize. He will help his little sister and the smaller neighbors by reading to them, reaching things for them, or explaining the intricacies of Lego Star Wars in excruciating detail to them. (They're a good audience for this; I am not.) He likes to be challenged mentally (math problems forever!) and physically (I'm not sure I'll still be faster than him by his next birthday). He is getting better at losing. He has matured this year so that he doesn't cry at the drop of a hat - or tries not to anyway - and it breaks my heart when I see him wiping away tears, trying not to cry. (Unless it's because he didn't finish a movie a week and a half ago because he chose to walk aw