About a year ago, Quincy got a dog.
Quincy loved Bear and Bear loved Quincy. Quincy's mom, not so much.
It worked anyway, for a while until Quincy was unable to consistently feed Bear and give Bear proper shelter. Then Bear started coming to my house. Digging under my fence and barking in our backyard at about 6:45 in the morning. It's a little like a rooster, only it's a dog and she wasn't ours. (We do have a rooster who lives around the corner. Just a little fun fact.)
My husband is a dog lover. A dog lover IF the dog is perfectly behaved, does not bark, and is a Labrador Retriever. Bear was none of those things but she was Quincy's and if Quincy loved this dog, so did I.
She slowly became our dog. Ok, let me rephrase that. She became my dog because she was ill behaved, barked, and was not a Labrador Retriever. And let me also say just in case Quincy is reading this and still trying to say I stole his dog; I used A LOT of my cards with my husband for this dog. But alas, Trey was never convinced.
Bear peed in my car and it smells bad. Real bad.
Last week, we welcomed new neighbors to the hood. They work with my husband and we are so excited to have them here.
In fact, someone was so excited to have them in the hood that they broke into their house on their 5th night here and stole their stuff. Just a big basket full of West Dallas lovin'.
A big ol' pile of stinkin' ashes.
Well, OBVIOUSLY, what do you need when you move into a neighborhood where the welcome wagon has spinners and the pawn shop stays open late just to take in your stuff?
They wanted a dog and we had one too many.
Bear has a new home and she's so happy and the couple feels just a little bit safer.
Quincy is proud as a peacock because "his" dog is helping someone else and he's getting a few kudos for helping raise such a great dog.
Finally, my husband is oh, so happy and back to having to deal with only one dog. (She's a Labradoodle so he only likes 1/2 of her.)
Thank you, Lord for bringing beauty from ashes.