Because We Hate To Be Left Out

A few months ago my sister-in-law called my husband at work with some good news. They were adopting their fourth child, an African-American girl named Naomi. They’ve already adopted three other children, two of whom are also whatever the correct term for darker-skinned- than- caucasian is today. About a month ago my cousin Matt and his wife Abby (who I’m always confusing with my nine year old niece Abbie when the family tells anecdotes) adopted their second daughter. Olivia joins an older sister Hannah, and both girls are Black/African-American/Babies Of Colour/Someone Help Me Out Here.

So anyway, we decided we didn’t want to be left out. So yesterday my husband and I adopted a black baby of our own.

Meet Gob. For those of you not familiar with Arrested Development, it’s pronounced like the book of the Bible called Job. He’s named this because ‘Bluth’ sounded too goofy after repetition. Besides which, he’s got the patience of the Biblical fellow to put up with his decidedly forcefully homosexual older brother. We also wanted a name that reminded us how humour can get you through suffering. And how there’s always a hopeful ending. And how you should praise God no matter what your circumstance. And also because he’s a sort of escape artist.

Gob is a one-year-old Schipperke rescue; he was saved from a kill shelter by Kimber’s Kritters. We’ve been talking about getting a second kid for awhile now. Quinn needs a brother. But we’d been all along figuring we’d get another Eskie like Quinn, since we love the breed so much. I’ve been scouring PetFinder and the classifieds for several months and put our names on some Eskie rescue lists.

Then today we decided to go to Burger King and stop at the PetCo adoption event on the way. We were assuming that we’d just play with the little homeless critters for awhile and then go eat. And there he was. A dog that looked like a black little homuncular Quinn! I should say right now that I’ve always wanted a Schipperke, but the spouse was not on board with the idea. But when he saw Gob standing there with that I’m-Smarter-Than-All-Of-You look on his face, a look we know so well from years of Quinn, we knew that our family member had found us.

Proof that God knows better than we do–our main concern was my health. Could I care for a new, young dog who needed broken in? That was one of the reasons we waited until Summer. (I tend to be a bit better in the warmer months, as cold aggravates the rheumatic conditions.) Lo and behold, Gob seems for all the world to be house-trained. He knows “Come” “Up” “Down” “Outside” “Inside” “Go Potty” and has proven to be a quick study for the word ‘treat’. Of course. So God has provided us with a wonderful little boy with the exact temperment we so love–smart, individualistic and loving–who is young enough to be bonded into the family easily yet old enough to be over the hardest stage of puppyhood. What a treat!

Did you say “treat”???!!!

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