Our house and our hearts grew a little fuller a couple of weeks ago when we brought Isabella “Bella” Barkellini home to live with us.
Bella’s all legs, sleek and long. It’s hard to believe this big girl is only a nine month old puppy. She adjusted to her new home easily, claiming the yard as her own, warning us whenever intruders come near. She keeps track of the kids too. If one get too far away for her liking, Bella’s sheep hearing instincts passed down by her mother kick in. She rounds them up and brings them back to the fold. I’m trying to figure out how to train her to put the boys to bed.
She made friends with Elizabeth, our elderly cocker spaniel. Bella and the cat are still working out their issues. Maybe after some couple’s counseling the cat will at least be able to coexist with her.
Bella is athletic and graceful. She effortlessly leaps on and off the trampoline, climbs the ladder to the top of the slide and leaps off, landing on her feet like a cat. Today she even cleared the fence in the backyard. This earned her the title of Bella the Flying Dog. Thankfully she always comes when she’s called. And she sits and stays and lays down. Good dog. She’s almost better behaved than my kids. She even came to us housebroken, a relief since potty training Wade almost did me in.
At night Bella curls up on the couch next to us. She’s warm and soft and sweet. Yes, we let our pooches sit on the furniture. That’s what washable slipcovers are for.
I think God made dogs because he knew sometimes we would need something warm and fuzzy to cuddle. We needed a companion that doesn’t judge and loves readily in exchange for nothing more than a full belly, a little kindness and a pat on the head.
Bella, Bella Ella, Belly Bean — she has a few nicknames already.
And the house is a little cozier tonight because Bella is here.