Le Jardin de ma Vie: Day 19: He loves our NEW dog

My farmer prefers used dogs. It's not an altruistic thing. It's more an avoidance strategy. He doesn't want to deal with the puppy stage.

Our first dog, Frank, was about nine months old when we found him at the shelter. He didn't chew on the house or dig, but he was a thief. Sub-contractors helping with our house remodeling project quickly learned not to leave tools laying around. He ate the cell phone of one of our dry wall laborers. I felt pretty bad, but the guy was warned.

Frank started getting sick about eight months after we adopted him. For the next few years he would get really sick, we'd give him a high dose of a steroid, then he would be better for a few months.

We lost him Thanksgiving weekend three years ago. He passed at the vet clinic while I was at the chiropractor with the kids. My son and I burst into tears. My daughter, who was five at the time, shouted from the back seat, "When can we get another one?!"

The negotiations began and I won. My farmer agreed that Santa could bring us a puppy. My compromise was the name. My farmer likes strong male names. Meet Pete!

In three years, Pete has eaten our porch steps; eaten our air conditioner wires; eaten his dog house; eaten every type of critter that could venture into our yard; chased runners; chased bikers; spent unknown amounts of time at the neighbors; dug under my front porch; dug under my back porch, stolen little girls' flip flops, and hung himself over the kids' swing.