Saturday.
{8am}
My doorbell rings.
A couple is standing at my door.
{holding armfuls of belongings}
The woman says, "we brought your new foster daughter."
Ash and Hal squeal with joy.
Tate and Crew were jumping up and down.
{macy started to grip my leg}
{I was a little more hesitant}
You see, this couple was my parents.
and the "foster daughter" was their dog Ginger.
We had the "joy" of babysitting her while they went to California.
Ginger is a chihuahua.
{and cannot live outside}
{especially when its 1 gazillion degrees out}
I put her stuff in our laundry room.
{which quickly began to smell like pooch}
On Saturday alone, Ginger "aka flava" got her nails polished hot pink, got wrapped in blankets, held, pet and carried...nonstop.
{which may be why she began biting}
but my kids were in dog heaven!
When she left Monday morning, my girls cried.
{out of pure saddness}
{ginger {and I} looked happier than I have ever seen her }
There's no place like home.
{gingers home}
and
{my dogless home}
ps. a glade plug-in
{apple cinnamon scented}
has taken care of the "pooch smell"
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