"Oh, really." I say. "I think you're going to have to take that up with dad."
"I know, I'll wrestle him." He says, "Whoever wins gets the girl."
Big hugs from me, then as I'm getting up from the couch, he stops me and says, "Wait, you'd vote for me, right?"
In January, we made a hard decision to find our dog Leo a new home. He is such a sweet dog, but was not taking well to the house training part of living in a house. Kyle refused to clean up one more mess, so we decided Leo needed to live with people who have more patience with that kind of thing. We found a great family who said they'd been looking for a little white fluffy dog for quite some time. They came to meet him and it was love at first sight for them and Leo. Then, about two weeks ago, we heard about a house fire in our neighborhood. The family wasn't home when it happened, but they lost everything. Sadly, it was the same family who had taken Leo. I pretty much freaked out when I heard this. I wanted to call or e-mail the family, but how do you say, "Sorry about your home and all your memories, but is the dog okay?"
A woman in our ward is a close friend of theirs, so I was able to get more information from her last Sunday. She said that when the firefighters got there, the neighbors told them there was a dog inside. They quickly found him and he was rescued unharmed. Thank goodness. On the way home, I told Kyle everything she had told me including something I didn't know about our local fire department. Apparently, the first fireman on the scene goes in and looks for people, the second looks for pets, and the third pulls pictures off the walls. How cool is that? As I'm explaining this to Kyle, Davis pipes up from the backseat and says, "Does the fourth fireman put out the fire?"