The deal with dogs is...

ya just never know. Will they be a "good" dog. Will they potty train in a reasonable amount of time, will they be loyal and loving, sensitive to your mood and ready to nuzzle you when they sense that you need it? Will they be gentle with the kids, happy in the car, friendly with the neighbors and their dogs? Will this be an euphoric Lassie-like experience where everyone (doggie included) is happy with the relationship?

Or will they bite the groomer ensuring that they come home with a strip of hair the width of razor missing from their back (think reverse mohawk). Will they nibble on your children or will they chew your new dining room furniture? Will they refuse to potty outside, preferring to "go" under the beds in the pink bedroom? Will they chew on your favorite brown Steve Madden sandal or poop right next to your brand new Nike shocks? Will your friends kindly ask that you put your doggie "up" so that they aren't jumped upon or scratched and so that their children aren't chased around the house? (Yes, all of those things happened to us while we were the proud owners of Libby Lu).

That's the thing with doggies. It's a gamble. An expensive gamble at that.

When Mark and I first married, he had a 95lb Lab mix, Onyx. When she was a puppy, she contracted parvo. Mark spent $600 on his "free" puppy, and she lived. In most respects, she was a great dog.

We had been married a few months when she began digging under our fence. We spent MANY hours filling in holes, picking up trash and chasing her down. Once we figured out how to keep her in the fence, male dogs began climbing in there with her.

Strange behaviour seeing how she had been fixed three or four years before.

We took her to the vet. Evidently, when she had been spayed, a tiny bit of ovary had been left. It regenerated, and this was causing her to go into heat a couple of times a month. This also caused her to be aggressive towards dogs that were smaller than her.

After having to pay the vet bills of two of our neighbors dogs, we gave her to my aunt and uncle who live on 10 acres out in the middle of nowhere.

Eventually, we decided that we wanted another doggie. Despite our preference for large dogs, we thought that with our new house (we had been here less than a year at this point), and our small children (Sophie was 4, Chloe was 3 and Cammie was 2), a smaller doggie would be a better choice.

We fell in love with an adorable, fluffy, little Shih Tzu. I personally had visions of cute little sweaters, frilly hair bows and my own wittle furry lap dog. Mark raved about how "beautiful" she was, Forrest thought she was quote "the sweetest puppy ever". Hannah promised to brush her, Sophie developed Elmyra-ish tendencies, Cammie thought she had a new playmate and even animal-timid Chloe was in love.

This lasted for a few months. We tried to train her. We made excuses for her less than desirable behaviour. Then, after the infamous poo-in-the-Nike-shock incident, we gave her away. The kids didn't bat an eye when after 12 months of trying to traing Libby, the nice people we found on free-cycle drove off into the sunset with her. That was the end of our dog owning days.

Fast forward two and a half years.

The itch is back. We want a doggie.

We love dogs. We enjoy owning them, playing with them, loving on them.

After going back and forth, weighing the pros and cons, we decide to jump in and give it one last try.

This time, we spent time researching... thinking of the traits and characteristics we wanted in a dog.

We knew from past experience that we wanted a large dog. I think small dogs are ADORABLE, but they are just not for us. We are BIG dog people.

No yippee dogs, no jumpy dogs, no dumb dogs. No hyper dogs, no mean dogs.

Big. Calm. Tame. Trainable. Reliable. Docile.

And. So. We decided that a Saint Bernard is the dog for us. 185 pounds of trainable, loving, docile fur.

This time, we are going into this more educated and more informed. Just in case that isn't enough, we're hiring an obedience trainer.

This is our new lovie. We haven't named him yet. We bring him home on Saturday.

p.s. As I was typing this, the movie Beethoven came on. Surely that's a sign...right?

p.s.s. Feel free to leave name suggestions in the comment section or email them to me.