Lazy Elf on the Shelf

This morning Lou revealed that he'd asked our Elf on the Shelf, Jo Jo, a question but he never responded. I said, "Well, he can't talk, so don't be too sad." Then he replied, "I know. But our Elf on the Shelf at school, when we ask it a question, he writes the answer back in a letter."  
Of course he does.
Ruckus and Moo began piping in as well, "Yeah, and he didn't move last night, he's in the same spot."
And that's when I explained the beauty of diversity. "Guys, you see, I think we bought a lazy elf. All elves are different and ours is a very tired elf, who just likes to chill and stick to one wardrobe. But, he is also one who has excellent sight and peripheral vision, so he doesn't have to move as often."
He has a similar condition to our tooth fairy, who has been described as pretty overweight and bald, and very forgetful. Like, the worst memory ever. But, it doesn't mean he doesn't love you or care about your teeth, he just needs to eat more blueberries  than other fairies so he can remember things.
We don't judge in this household or take things personally.
We love everyone.
And really, being surrounded by these faulty personality traits builds character and understanding in children.
It's probably a blessing. 

Goodbye Kathy.

Kathy,
You would have really liked breakfast this morning. The baby littered the floor with fried eggs and there were Pop-tart crumbs clinging to her high chair, practically begging for your love and affection. But this morning you weren't available to be my personal top-of- the-line vacuum. And that's hard.
In January you surprised us one morning when you wouldn't eat or walk, and your whole body was shaking. If we tried to pick you up you yelped. The vet told us you had a slipped disc, prescribed you with pain killers, anti-inflammatory meds, and informed us the worst was yet to come. She said you'd soon experience paralysis in your hind legs, that surgery was an option but not a guarantee fix, and gave me an empathetic look that read, it's time to say goodbye. After a week of taking your prescriptions though, our Kathy was back. You were back to being Little C's best friend, our security guard, the binky thief, diaper eater, knocking over the garbage cans when nobody was home, driving me nuts with your constant need for attention, and making us feel like no matter what - you were loyal to your family. Even to The Beloved.
You became part of our family on impulse. The Canyon County Humane Society was giving away dogs for a small fee and I kept feeling this push to go. Instead of talking to The Beloved about it first, I flippantly decided to just drive to the shelter. The kids and I walked in and there you were. Kathy. That's what your name tag read, and I thought, in this household filled with boys, "I really need a Kathy around here." I called The Beloved to confess what I had done and he was mostly mellow. He looked through the photos of animals listed on the Humane Society website and said, "I'm good with any dog except this one." - then began describing you to me. Not good.
But I'm stubborn and refused to give you up. . . that is, until I wanted to. About six months later I was pregnant with Sweetrotten, and when I am prego my nurturing capacity for all things not human and not in our gene pool goes down the drain. It's not that I didn't care about you, I just didn't want to pet you 24/7, which made me feel extreme guilt. I thought, Kathy should be in a home where she can be a lap dog and get the attention she deserves. So, I sold you . . . twice. The first time was to a woman whose dachshund had just passed away, but then after a few days she realized you weren't her dog (what the?) so she brought you back. The second time I gave you to a woman with two young daughters. She met me at a park near our home but acted all sorts of shady. She didn't reach down to pet or love on you, she just kind of stood there, looking bored, then put you in the back of her car and told me she was waiting for a friend at the park. I got in my car and stalked the area for a good thirty minutes. Her friend finally showed up, but no one was paying attention to the black and white dachshund in the back of the car. I felt torn. We were supposed to leave for Utah in about 20 minutes and I had no clue how to handle this situation. Please forgive me for not being courageous. I offered up a prayer, many prayers, asking for you to find your way home if you were in danger.
The morning after we returned home from UT we were outside doing yard work. Our neighbor opened his front door and you came running out. He yelled, "Raisins! Come here Raisins!" thinking you were his new pet, but when our whole family exclaimed, "Kathy!" he willingly surrendered you. You found your way home! What a tender mercy and an answer to my prayer. I never tried to sell you again. Even when you peed on my bed twice, pooped on the floor when it was too unbearably cold outside, chewed up all my ornamental flowers seconds after I planted them, and ate Sweetrotten and the Baby's new adorable leather moccasins they received for Christmas. Grrrr to the grrrr girl!
But mostly, there was goodness inside of you. You never ran away. When we took you outside you stayed right by our side, unless a dog came a callin', then your little woman syndrome kicked into gear and you'd confront them right then and there. You rarely had accidents in the house, you slept in your crate at night, and were excellent on a leash. You cleaned the floor like a champ and sat on my feet, keeping them warm, while I worked at my computer. You were a comforter and companion to Little C. He was the one who'd take you for walks, give you baths, rub your tummy for hours, and feed you his leftover cereal milk every morning. 
Two days ago you woke up shaking again. You walked with an extreme arch in your back and had zero appetite. By Sunday evening your back legs were paralyzed. You wouldn't let us hold you. You pulled yourself with your front legs to try to relieve yourself in the backyard but couldn't. It was devastating. 
Yesterday Little C went with me to say goodbye to you. He was so brave. The vet once again informed us that surgery was an option, a $5,000 option, or we could choose quality of life, aka: put you to sleep. 
Making these kind of decisions sucks. 
Sucks.
I broke down when I told the doctor I didn't want to choose. 
But, then the spirit let me know you wanted to go.
You were ready and you didn't want to hurt anymore.
I felt at peace.
And so did Little C.
They gave you medicine for the pain and wrapped you in an orange fuzzy blanket while we said our goodbyes. Little C held you tight, and told you he'd see you soon. That he would miss you, you were a good dog, and he thanked you for being part of our family.
He held you while they administered the anesthesia overdose and gave your tiny head a kiss after they told us you were gone. He gently removed your BSU collar and let them pull you away.
He wrote this on his Facebook page yesterday:  "Today wasn't easy. Our little dog Kathy has had a slipped disc for about a year and has been great, until yesterday. Kathy's little legs were not able to move. She would be constantly shaking and would cry when you picked her up. But she is in a painless much better place now. We love you Kathy!"
Kathy, want an effect a dog has on the heart.You softened ours'. Your name was hilarious. I used to joke that we preferred to give our kids animal names and our pets human ones. 
Yesterday was my Grandma Smith's birthday. She's been gone since I was in the 4th grade.When I mentioned this over dinner Lou said, "Well, I guess we gave her a present then. Kathy." 
I guess we did.
I told Lou that Grandma and I yell at dogs in a similar voice, so Kathy should feel right at home. He informed me that people don't yell in heaven. He's probably right.
Kathy, please take care of our loved ones on the other side of the veil. Ruckus prayed last night that they'd take care of you.
Miss you girl. We love you Kathy the Cow.

Much Love,
Mom