She has definitely found her way into our hearts.

From the get go, I could tell she was a real lady.

None of this tough macho stuff that leaves you strangled for breath.

No.

She proved it by her graceful ways.

Ways in which she sat patiently by my chair at mealtime, willing to wait until the meal was over without complaint for her tidbit.

Or the times she eases in beside me when I’m lying on the floor and gently checks me over to see that everything is okay and leaves me with a tiny lick as if to say, “rest easy, love.”

Yes, she’s gotten her fair share and more of my cookies. 

I know.  You are chastising me for giving her chocolate.

But that’s okay.  Our dogs get chocolate and get away with it for some reason.  (I really think it helps them live longer, happier lives, but that’s just a personal opinion.)

And yes, she is a fan of my ice cream and chocolate sauce. 

And, on a rare occasion, she got her own meal from the McDonald’s drive through. 

She certainly isn’t all saint, as Mama J can testify to when on a certain day, she came in to find her sewing patterns shredded and the fabric she had been saving for just the right occasion had three fang marks in it.

And somehow, she has learned how to open the doors into this house, and it’s been more than once that we’ve come home to see the tails wagging and shaggy grins greeting us at the door, as a sort of welcome committee.

Or, if one were to crawl under the table, they might see little teeth marks on the wood. 

But those are small slights, and easily forgiven somehow.

And her place with us seems solidified.

Especially, when I saw her climb up on Mama J’s chair, and Mama J comes over to move her computer off so she had the whole chair to herself, and then, in unconscious motherly gesture, shut the lights off so she could sleep the easier.