Dear Darling Children,

In honor of National Dog Day I’m going to share the story of how Gaston Alexander Frazier came to be part of our family.

It was a warm, drizzly Sunday.  The night before I had far too much wine because both of you had been screaming, hitting and spilling your juice all over the house.  After your father put you to bed and I was sufficiently intoxicated I started sobbing about how much I missed my sweet dog, Alexander, who had passed away just a month or so before.

“I miss him. I also miss the unconditional LOVE he gave me.  These kids hate me today, they hate me because I won’t let them have 20 bags of fruit chews or watch Caillou.”

I whispered this, my voice cracking, huge teardrops running down my face.

Your father stared at me, at his absolutely stunning and wonderful wife who could do no wrong and was HIS REASON FOR LIVING and he made a decision.

If his perfect wife wanted a dog, she would get a dog.

Cue the warm & drizzly Sunday.

After we undid the hog ties we had to use to get you both into appropriate non-pajama clothing, we all climbed into the car to “visit” the pet shop.  You yelled at each other the entire ride, angry because you had wanted to go to McDonalds but I had said no since neither of you would quit picking your noses or making gagging sounds.

I ignored you both, anxious to see what kind of puppies the shop had.

Your father picked up a mini dachshund immediately.  I wasn’t sold and kept pushing a slightly older light brown puppy in your father’s face, making it speak in a British accent about tea and whatnot.

You both lasted about 10 minutes before imploding, bored, making robot noises and dancing around like a college student on crack.  I put the dog back in his cage and walked out, tears already forming in my eyes.

“They don’t even want a dog. I’m the only one who cares.  How can they not care?  It’s a PUPPY!  A FREAKING PUPPY!!!!  WHO DOESN’T WANT A PUPPY?”

I sobbed this to your father, hysterical once we got to the car.

“You’re right.”

Your father said this calmly, taking my delicate bird hands in his strong ones and gazing at me with his piercing blue eyes that see right into my soul.

“They don’t care.  I don’t care, either.  You’re the one who cares, and that’s all that matters.  So go inside and find yourself a dog.  Find YOUR dog and we will all love it because YOU love it.  This isn’t for the family.  This is for you, my perfect, beautiful wife who I love more than the moon and the stars even though you don’t cook and typically leave the laundry on the couch until I finally fold it while you’re taking a 2 hour bath.”

I’m paraphrasing, but some of that is what he said.  So I listened to him and while he took you little monsters to get some food I went back into the pet shop.

Upon my re-entry I caught sight of something bouncing wildly to my left.  Turning, I spotted a black ball of fur, peppered with tiny spots.  Was it a dalmatian/dachshund/chihuahua hybrid, a brand new designer dog?

No.  It was a mini dachshund.  THE SAME MINI DACHSHUND YOUR FATHER HAD BEEN PLAYING WITH JUST MINUTES BEFORE!

He recognized me when I came back in.  He KNEW we were meant to be!

I picked him up and carried him to the puppy play area, sure that he would do something to make or break the huge decision that was upon me.

I sat down.

He immediately crawled onto my lap and fell asleep, snoring like a drunk, overweight old man.

I realized that I was exhausted, too.

We were perfect for one another

$105,985 later I walked out of that puppy shop, rounded the corner and saw your father leaning up against the car.  He looked at me.  I looked at him and immediately started sobbing.

“I love him.  I love him.”

Your father smiled knowingly.  He had been eyeing a $400 Lego set.  No way would I try to block that purchase NOW!

Just kidding.

He smiled LOVINGLY and said, “Anything to make you happy.”

Anything.

I love him.

…and my new puppy.

Happy National Dog Day, Darling Children.

The End.