Rich

Last weekend, A. and I went up toward the northern part of the state to visit his family. His younger sister and her little boy and six-week-old daughter were there from Santa Fe, as well as his older sister and her two kids so it was kind of a mini reunion. The brand new baby was pretty darn sweet, and the other niece and two nephews were a handful. It was fun and crazy and full and tiring and just right.

The dogs always do really, really well around the kids even though they aren't around them that often. Their tails get stepped on and their ears get tugged and they pretty much just sit there, hanging out. Belle always investigates when a baby is crying. I don't know if it is out of concern or curiosity. She sniffs the baby with her ears perked up, and then sits close by. At one point, during one of her swift runs around the 50 acres of A.'s parent's place, Belle whizzed by Little M. It was a pretty close fly-by, but she did take care not to tackle him. I was pretty proud of them for being such gentle dummies. (Watching Belle run as fast as she can, with absolute grace and -- I swear -- a smile on her face, is one of my favorite things in the whole world. Really, it makes my heart soar.)

But it was an exhausting weekend for A., myself and the dogs! A. and I certainly are not used to the schedule and chaos and noise and constant need for attention that accompanies kids. We both dove right in, though, as we figured it is only a few days and maybe we could ease the burden from his siblings for a few minutes at a time. But, by the end of the long weekend we were ready to head back to our quiet little lives.

And so were the dogs. They were ready to go, and they did not necessarily feel like waiting for us to get going.

(They hopped in there entirely of their own volition.)

(Also: look at those bat ears!)