Brutus & Evan

Baby Evan really really really really loves our dog Brutus. Really. He likes dogs in general – “dog” was the second sign he ever learned (after “milk”) and “dohg!” is one of the only things he says clearly and consistently – but I suspect he loves HIS dog best. Actually, I don’t suspect. I know. I know he likes the dog more than he likes pretty much anything. Including me.

Does he say or sign “mama”? No. Never. But every morning when I get him out of the crib he says “dohg! dohg!” until we come downstairs and say good morning to Brutus.

Clearly the dog wins.

Loves.

Sadly, I don’t think the dog feels the same way.

I mean, obviously Brutus tolerates Baby Evan. He’s never snapped or barked or intentionally knocked him over. Letting someone use your tail as a rope so they can climb up onto YOUR chair and then jump up and down on your face is definitely a sign of like. But I’m pretty sure Brutus wishes we had never brought this creature home in the first place. I can’t bring myself to tell him about the second baby.

What did you just say about about a second baby?

I like to think if Baby Evan ever fell down a well, Brutus would come and tell us. Or that he would bravely defend us from burglars. Or come wake everyone up if there was a fire. Unfortunately, I doubt he could be bothered to get out of his chair. Because that is His Chair, just in case you were wondering.

Not that you’d want to sit in it anymore, what with the smell. And the hair. And the smell.

But Baby Evan doesn’t seem to mind.

The dog was created specially for children. He is the god of frolic. ~Henry Ward Beecher

I’m just kidding about the not-saving-us-from-disaster thing. Of course he would save the day. Otherwise there wouldn’t be anyone to feed him.