the magic number: Harper

Harps-acord, Harp, Harper-tron, Tron, kumquat - whatever you call her, she's my little Harper and she's the best little mutt ever. When we decided to take the plunge and get a dog, Dan and I thought we knew what we were signing up for - we both grew up with amazing dogs: Rhubarb, Nutmeg and Smokie - but getting Harper was another thing entirely.

Growing up, my dogs were never my first thought in the morning and I never had to figure out who would take care of her if we went away for the weekend. Sad to admit, I never I had the same relationship or love with Nutmeg or Smokie as I do with Harper. When we were little we never had to search for a dog for months on the Milwaukee County Humane Society website, read multiple Cesar books in preparation for their adoption, were the primary "walkers" or had to pay for a vet bill.

Harper has caused multiple headaches over the past two years - eaten multiple loaves of bread, gnawed on books, DVDs, shoes, eaten her weight in kitty food and her most recent development - panicking at the slightest hint of a noise - like clapping. She's been the center of so many good memories. I love her for:

Waiting for Dan or I to wake up in the morning before coming in our room
Fake yawning and sneezing
Keeping her noise to a minimum
Her ridiculous dainty prancing

This weekend, I took a nap after registering for baby Atkinson and Harper sheepishly jumped on the bed with me and put her little head on my tummy. She didn't even know how much I needed that sweet gesture - let's just say registering = me not knowing anything about babies. Babies R Us should serve massive amounts of alcohol to dads or any non-pregnant person that dare to enter - and at least a cookie to all pregnant ladies. What - a cluster fuck.