The NEW Guy

We did it. I can’t believe it but we did it and it’s done. Our fluffy new family member joined us on Christmas morning, and while it was debated over and over for the days that followed, he is to be called “Max”. He is a Jack Russell Terrier (a shorty) and is 9-weeks old. The smallest dog I’ve ever seen! And unfortunately, about the same size as Noah’s favorite stuffed animal “Lamby”. Andy and I have fast become warden’s of the household, supervising each and every visit between Noah and Max to see that our not-so-gentle giant (“Lenny”, as Andy’s been calling him), doesn’t squish poor little Max. The supervised visits have become even more necessary in that “poor little Max” has grown quite fond of using Noah’s meaty calves as a teething ring. (It’s come to the point where you can’t tell their squeals apart!) Gromit is still with us, and although his new family is ready and waiting for him, we’re trying to be gentle about it. Elliott’s face crumbles at the slightest mention of a Gromit departure, so of course, Andy has backed out of backing me up. I’ve suddenly found myself alone in this very unfamiliar territory of breaking a kid’s heart. Gulp. Any words of wisdom? Anybody? Hello? “ECHO …echo…echo…”