From Emma Lou to Emily

I went to my training class in Baltimore last week. Yes, scarily enough I flew across the country by myself and found my way through the Baltimore Washington airport to my hotel. Whew! When I got settled in my room, I called my husband, like a good wife should. He told me that Emma had been acting funny (i.e. not eating, drinking, or going potty). I told him to rush (and I meant RUSH) her to the animal emergency clinic. He threw her in the car in icy and snowy conditions, only for her to pass away on the trip. He was devastated and so was I. I felt horrible that he had to go through that while I was away.

The class finished Wednesday and I flew home. By Thursday night, Brad had picked out a new baby (a yellow lab mix) from the pound and we were taking her home. Her name is Emily. She doesn't have a middle name yet, but we're working on it. The poor dog doesn't know that we are leaving her this friday for a week with a couple at the church so we can go to Illinois for Christmas. But what she doesn't know won't hurt her, right?