Back in the Summer of 2006 when Gage’s kidney function was depleting at a rate faster than we knew, he begged for a dog. When I say “begged” I mean daily he really, really, badly, “because mommy all kids have a dog,” begged for a dog.

I grew up with (indoor) family dogs and I see the attraction when you are 7 years old. He went on for months. My dog was not really a family dog since she really only loved me. I had to put her to sleep when she was 13 and Gage was 3. He remembers her snapping at her fingers, but that didn’t stop him from messing with her. That would be a lot like REAL LIFE with Gage. He will bug the crap out of you on something and he just won’t stop. He’s relentless that way. We also had another dog that Julian and I picked out together and when we moved to this house 4 years ago (Gage was 5, Quinn nearly 3) my sister became her foster mom when we were selling our old house, and then she was happy, and then we had steps and she was old and she lived out the rest of her life with my sister. Addy had two moms, me and my sister, Terry. We had to put her to sleep the day that we learned Gage would need emergency surgery to place a catheter and dialysis 3 days later. My head was spinning and Addy had a tumor and I didn’t have the fight in me for an 11 year old dog who lived a good, well-loved life.

I bring this all up because Julian was not raised with (indoor) family dogs. The “family” dogs lived in pens and had a purpose. Hunting. No good at hunting, no doggy. So when I approached Julian about wanting a dog when Gage was approaching a transplant (we didn’t know he was mere weeks away from dailysis) he was not keen on the idea. We went around about it for a few weeks, I think. I didn’t know why really, until I did some soul-searching why it was so important for me that we get a dog at the very start of the Insanity Known as The Year of The Transplant.

One night before bed I confessed to Julian I had realized that if Gage died from the transplant complications I wanted him to have experienced a dog. He declared “Game Over” and the next weekend we were dog shopping at the Atlanta Humane Society. We had a miss with one dog who bit Quinn, and then we ended up with the best dog ever – 6 year old Lucy. We love her dearly, but she is with the family because of my fear of my child dying. Without him knowing the reason why (duh) I was granting him that one wish. It was worth it at the time and still today.

Lately, Quinn has been talking about wanting to get her ears pierced.

So, yeah. We are so letting her get them done. I can’t let her go into life-saving surgery without some jewelry.