The newest Sias

Chris and I adopted a dog. We named him Doug.

Sometimes, when I want Doug to do obey my commands right away, I sternly say, "Douglas, come here," or "Douglas, stop." Sometimes I do this when I'm walking him and I wonder if people overhearing me think that Douglas is a funny name for a dog.

Doug's favorite activity is to play fetch with a ball. This game could go on for hours.

One time Doug's ball fell in the river, and Chris was unable to retrieve it. Doug stood on the shore anxiously watching his ball float away. That was a stressful day for Doug, just as stressful as the day he saw ten or twelve little ducklings swimming in the river, darting around just out of his reach. I don't think Doug likes to swim because as much as he barked and whined and ran and reached for the baby ducks, he never came close to falling in the water.

Doug also likes to chase squirrels. After watching him play with soft, squishy toys, I'm almost certain I know what he would do if he caught a squirrel. First, he would grab it by the neck with his mouth. After he had mouthed it around a bit to ensure a firm grip, he would violently shake his head back and forth so fast that the squirrel would die almost instantly. This shaking would be so intense that the squirrel's bushy tail would whip around wildly, hitting doug in the face as he shook the small animal. Then, Doug would playfully throw the squirrel into the air, catch it, and continue shaking it's now limp body. Next, Doug would place the squirrel on the ground, strategically put his two front feet together on the squirrel's body for leverage, and begin pulling on the squirrel's skin with his teeth in an attempt to rip it open. He would pull the squirrel's skin from the exact point where his front feet come together, so as to maximize the tension between his feet pushing down and his teeth pulling away, causing his shoulders to arch sharply over his head and neck. After a few seconds of tugging on the squirrel's skin, Doug would bring the squirrel to me, drop it at my feet, and look at me with his bloody mouth slightly opened and his tail wagging, waiting for me to play fetch. This is why Doug can never catch a squirrel. Or a cat. Or a duckling.

I like to think that Doug knows we rescued him from the city pound where they "destroy" the animals that go unadopted. I'm sure that makes him thankful to be the first addition to our family. Now we are husband, wife, and dog.