The two months before the wedding were a little rough. We had to go to court, we had major plumbing badness, I managed to have surgery twice and my now in-laws showed up and stayed for two weeks. It seemed the matrimony gods were testing us. Towards the end Tim started calling me Lieutenant Dan. I must admit there was a fair amount of fist shaking and "bring it ons" thrown about during the time. Some days though, I'd just give up and cry. It was during one of the crying periods that Tim was pushed to the ultimate in desperation comforting tactics. Before he really considered who he was talking to he blurted out, "When all this is over, we'll get a puppy." Instant happiness from me. A puppy! I've asked for a puppy for the last dozen or so Hallmark holidays. And all I had to do was weep uncontrollably for a few solid days? Geez, I could have done that years ago.

Anyway, he's looking a little nervous now, because I am in full puppy mode. I understand that we're busy, and I'm going back to work, and we don't have a huge backyard and the cats are going to need some adjustment time. I've had my Muncie for twelve years, and he's become a little less tolerant to change as he becomes a curmudgeonly old man. I mean, after this last move he actually ended up on valium. But still, I have puppy fever, and today Tim is taking me to the animal shelter. He doesn't know it yet, but trust me. I can be pretty persuasive when I put my mind (and other... parts) to it.