Even a family of dogs is ‘fur’ever
What’s that saying about children; they keep you young? Or is it that they make you old before your time? Many of you might be surprised to learn that I have children — two, in fact. But they’re not the kind who come home from school with bad grades, requiring a subsequent revocation of phone privileges. Instead, they’re the kind that lick your toes and beg for scraps under the table. They’re what I like to call “fur babies.”
My dogs Peanut “Butter” and Lulu “Jelly” Crowe have been with my husband Trey and I for the past four years. They are a constant source of mirth in our home. I’ve read more than once that people who have family pets live longer, and I believe it. My dogs are bad-mood banishers. They’re pint-sized “happy pills” without the troublesome side effects. After all, they say laughter is the best medicine.
As I’ve gotten older and have been married for more than five years, I’m often asked that inevitable question. “Do you have children?” I like to answer, “Yes, I do in fact have children — my dogs.” The typical response can be summed up as, “That doesn’t count.”