Bacon's Boots Blog: Forever Home

Dear Floyd,

Welcome to our family. Welcome to your forever home. We are so glad you're here.

As you sat in the car on the way to the vet yesterday, you kept looking at me like "Are you getting rid of me? Am I going away? Where am I going?"

Well, sweet guy, you're not going anywhere except back home with me, back to snoozing on your pillow in front of the fire or at the feet of your new humans. Back home.

It's not a perfect home. But it's pretty damn close. It's loud at times. There's a lot going on. Some real goofballs live here and even more come over. There are dice rolling all over the place, a rambunctious kid, one big-eared dog, spills and messes. But it's my favorite place to be. There's lots of love and laughter, random dance parties and superhero flying and crayons and hugs. It's our home.

I know, since you were a possibility to come live with us, that I've been kind of quiet on what I think or how I feel about you. And it's not because I don't love you. It's because I do.

I was wrong. I was beyond wrong about you. I'm rarely so wrong, so you can imagine my shock. I thought this would be a disaster. I didn't think I would like you, much less love you. I mean, on paper, I think we sound a little nuts.

We have a 2 year old.
Another baby coming.
Let's adopt a shelter dog.

And, on paper, we might be a little nuts. I worried about you. Not because of your breed or your size (you 60.5 lb baby). Not because of Indy or Felix. simply because we didn't raise you. We don't know you. It really worried me.

But in the real world, the world where Christi is (occasionally) wrong, it may have been the best decision we've made in a while.

You are the sweetest, calmest, happiest, laziest dog I've ever met. You've made such a difference in the few short weeks you've been here. I can't imagine this house without you and your giant, flat head. Everyone you meet loves you. You are the poster dog for pitbulls. And the reason I'm sitting sitting in front of a giant plate of delicious words, eating them until I puke. Nom, nom, nom.

You fit right in. I think you'll do just fine.