Three years ago, I went out to a farm. Pulling up to the double wide, I parked the 4runner, and stepped out.

“Howdy!” a gal said as I approached.

“Hi” came my response. “I’m here about the German Shepherd puppies.”

“Well, they are right over here” she said pointing, then lead me to a gated area where six adorable puppies played. All of them were jumping, biting, and climbing over each other.

I knelt down and started the process. Reaching out a hand, stroking and touching all of them. The pack never seemed afraid or concerned, they seemed to feel that I was just another litter-mate. One of the males caught my eye and so I picked him up. And as I stared at him, I wondered;

Is this the one?

It was about this time that I felt something rather warm spread across the crook of my arm. Right where the pup’s hind quarters were. And looking down I saw and smelled the streak of crap, as it trailed itself down my shirt. It was accompanied by the newly began thumping of the puppy’s tail against my skin.

The woman’s eyes went wide. “Here-” she said “-give him to me” obviously disturbed.

Laughing to myself, I said “No he is fine.” then turning to face her, out came the words “I’ll take him.”

Her eyes grew even wider. “Really?” Shock now out-sourcing the statement to extreme disbelief.

“Yeah, I have to now-” the laughter still bubbling. “-he would be misunderstood with anyone else.” And that is how Stoic the dog came to be a part of our family.

Now three years later, I sit next to a tub and bathe my seven week old daughter. Stoic the dog protectively watches his newly acquired charge as I gently soap her body. Washing the creases and the folds, the ears and the toes. I turn on the faucet and start to rinse the suds from her skin when suddenly she begins to slip from my grasp. Without hesitation, I grab a quick hold, and scoop her and an arm full of water towards me. Her little body bounces against my chest, along with the wet as it drenches my shirt.

I can see Stoic the dog watching me out of the corner of my eye, catching me in my mistake. And the anger at myself over almost dropping my daughter makes me mutter a frustrated “Well shit!”

Not realising the prophetic nature of my words, and still clutching Gracie to my chest, I hear an outburst from below. A sound, that if my grandfather were to hear, he would make sure to retort “Report from Berlin!”

Looking down, I see Christmas green combined with the texture of oatmeal, exploding like a bug on a windshield across my soaked shirt. And with the sounds of artillery still firing out the behind of my baby girl, I turn and come face to face with Stoic the dog. Whom, I kid you not, tilts his head, perks his ears, and smiles at me.

Frustration melts away, replaced with deja vu glazed laughter. I smile, reach out my free hand, and give my puppy a pat on the head. “Yeah boy, we can keep her” I begin sheepishly. The thump and beat of a large doggy tail against the bathroom door starts to sound his consent. Then pulling my eyes back to my daughter, I lovingly say “She would be misunderstood with anyone else”