No, not that kind of bundle of love.* We brought a dog home this week. It wasn't an accident; in fact, it was rather well-planned. He needed a home, and we needed a new creature to love.** It worked out quite well, all told.
He's curled up in the sunshine on the floor next to me as I write this, all 34 lbs. of him, with two cone-shaped ears sticking straight up. Every now and again he hears something turn over in the dryer -- I think there's a penny in there, or maybe it's a whole quarter, and I can treat myself to a gumball after I fold -- and he'll perk his head up, ears erect, body stiff. But only for a second, and then he relaxes again. He's settling in. We're settling in.
Welcome home, Indiana.*** Good to have you. Please, stay a while. Just stop waking up at 5AM, yes? That's an unholy hour for being awake.
* My husband used our decision to adopt a dog as an excellent way to freak out his parents, setting up the "big announcement" with this little gem: "Kerry and I have something to tell you all. We thought you should know that we have decided to add to our family..." Yeah. I was beet red.
** Just please don't tell the cat I said that.
*** He's named after the dog after which Indiana Jones was named.