lost dog.

lost dog.

nakitaLookit that face. She used to be the cutest thing going at our house. 

Long before the days of Aisha, our little pup Nakita had the rule of the roost. She had three beds in the house, a million balls and squeak toys, and the undivided attention of all and any who visited. Our house rule was “please acknowledge the dog,” not because she was that important, but because she wouldn’t quit barking at visitors unless she received a rub.

When I was in the last days of being pregnant, Nakita took to lying at or on my belly, which I thought was pretty cute, and I hoped that she would be as attentive once the baby arrived.

And then the baby arrived.

Once the star of the house, Nakita was abruptly usurped as the new pink, wriggling, pooping thing quickly became top dog. Our poor little fuzzball couldn’t understand why, as with other small squeaky things in the house, she wasn’t allowed to chew on, drag or lick it. Loving words of affection and tummy rubs became “Nakita, no!” or “Stop that” and gentle shoves away when she got too close to the mysterious being. Read more