Now, neither myself nor my sister have actually seen this pooch, not living at home and all; however, this was a very clever trick on my parents' part to really entice me back up to Cleveland ;)
What I find amusing is that when our first dog, Lucy, was very tiny and was in the arduous process of being house-broken, my mother frequently declared that "this is my LAST Dog. When I get old, I am going to travel, and not worry about kennels or house-breaking or veterinarian fees." Then one of us kids would make some snickering remark about how she already was old, and then dearest Mother would chase us around the kitchen table attempting to give the offender a solid and well-deserved swat.
Apparently, Mother has changed her mind about the Last Dog business; we kind of knew she would. She also frequently gave the Last Dog speech during the life of our previous pup, who was named Foxy. Our beloved Foxy died, and, wouldn't you know it, a month later Mother was calling up breeders.
The new dog is a pound puppy, however. My younger brother Andy paid for her with his own money, so there can be no complaints about that. Her name is Ava, according to Mother. Here she is:
Apparently Lucy is getting along well with her new sister, although I imagine she's somewhat put out about having to compete for attention. Oh well. Welcome to the madhouse, Ava.
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