Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole. (Roger Caras)

We brought George home from the animal shelter yesterday afternoon. He's a cocker spaniel mix, about 2-3 years old.

It wasn't something I planned on doing. In fact, I've been steadily saying "NO!!!!" to the children's request for a dog for the past several months. I've managed to ignore all of the pleading, begging, promises, and even a totally awesome power point presentation my youngest had put together listing all the reasons why I should allow them to have a dog.

But yesterday a friend asked me to do her a favor. She had seen a shelter dog on the news, and wanted to find out about adopting it. She couldn't get to the shelter right away, so she asked me to run over and get the information for her. I should have realized it was a set-up.

But being a good friend, I stopped at the shelter as promised. That was my first mistake. My second was taking the children inside with me. The dog my friend wanted had already been adopted. But we were shown the other dogs available for adoption. George (or Coco as he was being called at the time*), was taken out of his cage so that the kids could play ball with him. It was only a few minutes before he was giving out slobbering kisses and I knew I had lost the battle.

I tried to resist. I did persuade the children (and the workers) that I needed to think about it before making a decision, and managed to get us out the door without a dog along. We did a few more errands, and I found myself heading back to the shelter. With a quick visit into the vet to confirm his health and update his shots, George became a member of our family.

We stopped at Petsmart on the way home, where George discovered a truth my children have known for years...I'm a pushover for an adorable pleading look. We left Petsmart with the dogfood we went in for as well as several toys, bones, rawhide treats, shampoo, a new collar and leash (the collar has EAGLES on it, which is PJ's favorite team and therefore became a must-have item), a safety gate to keep George off the rug, and a little teddy bear so he wouldn't get lonely when we go to work/school.

The shelter workers had warned us that George would probably be a little timid and insecure at first. Animals that have spent time in a shelter frequently have abandonment issues. George surprised us, immediately accepting us as HIS family and making himself right at home.

Naturally I've already taken lots of pictures, and posted them on pbase. As I type this, Becky and PJ are tossing a tennis ball back and forth, playing Monkey in the Middle with George. PJ has plans for trips to the park with George, while Becky has read most of the "Clicking With Your Dog" book and is trying to decide which tricks to teach George first.

*At the shelter, George was called either Coco or Caca, depending on which worker we asked. Personally, I thought he looked like a George. When we were getting him ready to go home with us, his original tags were found. I noticed that they said "Jorge" which is, of course, Spanish for George. So he's George as far as we are concerned. (Although Becky insists that his full name is Coco George.)