So the new game is how many dogs can the Bergen family go through before they realize that they are not dog people? I'll give you a hint. So far the number is 6. 3 runaways and 3 giveaways. Of course, after each dog we vowed to never get another dog. Ever. But just like child birth, the pain of it all becomes a distant memory until finally we decide "it wasn't that bad, let's do it again." If you refer to the previous post, you will see that we adopted Buddy last June. He was part of the Bergen family for a good 7 months. Those 7 months nearly tore our family apart. Buddy was a sweet dog and very cute, but he had a nasty habit of eating his poo. Some folks may think that this is a trait of a perfect dog. "Hey, he cleans up his own messes." Not the case. Buddy didn't just eat his poo. He nuzzled his little flat face in it and smeared it across the floor, which only shows how much he enjoyed the deliciousness of his own feces. After a few tromps through his mess, poo paw prints would cover our black and white checkered kitchen floor. By the time Matt and I arrived home from work, the poo would be nice and dry which made for easy cleaning. Not! Every afternoon, when I wanted to come home, make a drink, grab a snack, and watch Oprah, I was forced instead to scrape and wipe poo crumbs from my kitchen floor. Then mop. Then bathe Buddy. Luckily for Buddy, Matt and I would take turns losing our cool. This is the only way Buddy survived his 7 months in our house. When Matt's face turned crimson and his veins protruded, I would whisk Buddy out of the house so Matt could stomp and curse- and vice versa. Needless to say, when Buddy was lovingly passed off to a new family, so was the tension that plagued our house for 7 excruciating months. So if your wondering why I haven't blogged in a while, well, let's just say I've been busy mopping.