Some time back, my mom told me a stray dog had come around their house. This is not unusual. They are way out in the country and unfortunately people drive "out there where no one will ever know" and dump their dogs out to fend for themselves. We are not sure if this is what happened to Max or if he truly just ran away or what. Nonetheless, after a week of not feeding him and consistently shooing him away to no avail, my parents gave up the fight and decided to keep the dog.
For a while the dog was called "dog." Finally the kids and grandkids all pitched in with what they thought the dog's name should be. Then we voted. (My family is nothing if not a democracy.) Max received the most votes so Max it was.
My parents have talked about getting a dog for a long time but never went through it. I don't think they ever would have. Enter Max. He's a holy dog - straight from the heavens we say. God knew my parents needed something to take care of (I'm sure if they could read this right now they would say, "Yeah, right!") and be a companion to. That's why God sent Max to them.
Well, that may be a little overdramatic but anyway you look at it they have a dog now. And the awesome thing is they really like this dog. I mean, really, really like this dog. They have become, uh-oh, attached.
And so have my kids......