once upon a time...

It was the Christmas of 2005 when I received the most special gift of my life. It all started when my husband and I were dating, he had told me in the first week that he had always wanted a dog...I thought to myself "oh how sad, he has never had a dog before" not the case. He didn't want just any dog, it had to be a french bulldog, cute I thought a little frenchie. It had to be a black frenchie...with a white belly, "that looks like a tuxedo" he said, "and his name will be Macbeth because my last name is Duncan and in Shakespeare's Macbeth they are best friends. Now, I don't remember much about Shakespeare but from what I recall Macbeth kills Duncan??? I never thought twice about it because once we started living together our lives were so busy, we lived in small loft in downtown LA, I was working 2 jobs and going to school and he was working nights at the railroad and part-time in retail. who has time for a dog right? Oh but then came Saturday December 17th when we took an unexpected road trip to Perris not Paris, it was there that I fell in love with another man. We pulled up at a small house and a woman opens the door wearing a house robe, socks and bedroom slippers. She invites us in, the smell of dog was overwhelming. I had been pre-warned that we "I" were looking at puppies but even up until this moment I was NOT overly excited at the idea. Betty Joe, the breeder, steps outside and amongst all the barking and chaos she scoops up this tiny little black ting that vaguely resembles a rabbit. She closes the door and sets him on the floor and says "well here he is, he's the last to go". I picked him up and cuddled him, he was shakey and scared. I had a bad cold that day and I was worried that he would catch my cold, she re-assured me that he would be fine and not get my cold. The whole way back to LA I held him like a newborn baby, and like a child that had been adopted, I couldn't stop feeling guilty for taking him away from his parents. That first night set the premise for the future. He cried the whole time in the crate and I couldn't handle it so I picked him up and put him in our bed and the rest is history. To this day, Macbeth still sleeps in our bed and I wouldn't have it any other way. I would have never thought that something that snores like a 70 yr. old man and farts like a frat boy would steal my heart. These are the tales and adventures of the Duncan and Macbeth