And now we are six.

The whole process of moving to South Africa has brought our family many tears... giving up our

pets to new homes, no matter how wonderful those new homes have been for them... was one of the very difficult things we had to endure. Especially our dog, Zoe. We had gotten Zoe when
Avery was 7 weeks old, she and Harrison really have never known life without her, until recently when our good friend, Erin, took her in and loves her .

So in all our vision of moving, finding a home, and a place to settle ourselves here in Johannesburg, we have always talked about a dog. It has been a token of truly "being" here in this place. A redemption, if you will, of all we have given up. A symbol of home. And we do all miss feeling like we are home... whatever that means at this point.

7 weeks after we arrived in Johannesburg we went dog shopping. Now, actually we had been dog shopping since the last week of March. Even before we moved in to our home, we were researching breeds and cuddling puppies. We have scoured Avery's "Giant book of Dogs" that Lindsay carried over for us in a suitcase (it is a big as the suitcase its self!) till we have memorized every breed it carries (Go ahead, ask me any question!) . We have wandered through the SPCA, looked at rescue societies, online classified ads, newspapers, and been to the pet shop at the mall even Saturday for a month. The pet shop here is a little different than home, every weekend, they provide a place for anyone who has a litter of puppies to bring them to show. So you never quite know what will be there. We've seen pure breed Weimaraners, teacup chihuahuas, complete pavement breeds, and pot-bellied pigs. We had decided long ago that we wanted a big dog... good with kids... completely playful and friendly but will also be a watch dog in this big place. I wanted one that was loyal and loving - who would go on a run with me and then come home and try to curl up on my lap on the couch, but I'd have to shove her off because she is just too big. We wanted a dog with a sweet face and floppy ears... and if I could choose, I love big splotchy spots. We were looking for the perfect mix-breed. Great Danes are too big to bring home when we are ready to move back... but a Great Dane/Lab mix might be just right. Or my all time favorite dog is a Standard Poodle/Golden Retriever mix . I've looked everywhere for that and not found it here. We found Great Dane/St. Bernard mix! Whooo... can you imagine what that puppy will grow up to be? Bigger than me I supposed! And the hair!



There is a breed here, it is absolutely a South African breed, one of only two I am aware of, called a BoerBoel. Boerboel's have the markings of a boxer, but the blood of a bull mastiff. They were bred to protect the women and children on the farm back in the days of the "boers" (European farmers who came to SA for it's lush beauty). Big, loyal, loves attention, loves to play... slobbers like a garden hose, eats like whale shark, and is amazingly intuitive toward protecting it's family... although it will not attack an intruder, but intimidate it or even pin it down if it comes to that.

On Saturday last week.. we were in the pet shop snuggling up all the puppies.. which has become our Saturday morning ritual, the girl there is getting to know us. And there, in the pen filled with boerboel pups, was the tiniest puppy of the litter... not brown with a black muzzle like all her brothers and sisters, but white with big splotchy spots and a clean face. We all instantly loved her... we took turns holding her, we let her run around the floor of the pet shop, we looked in to her eyes and looked for her sparkle. We loaded up our arms with food and toys and a blanket and Avery carried her home. To our home.


We brought her home, and we celebrated with cookies from the Chocolate chips my mom sent (OH, I miss semi-sweet chocolate!) and my Pamela's GF baking mix that is like gold to me since I can not replace it after it runs out. We savored those cookies with tea (rooibos of course) and felt very sweet indeed.



The story of her name... A couple weeks ago, we found the "perfect" dog online through a rescue society. She is 6 years old, her owners
emigrated and left her with a friend but it wasn’t a good fit. Sweet dog, very social, very cute, big and floppy and beautiful. And her name was Nikita. We talked to the leader of the rescue society and had a really nice conversation about Nikita and it was all very positive. The lady was going to call the temporary owners and set up a time for us to meet Nikita and then we knew we’d fall in love with her and live happily ever after. For about 4 days we dreamed of Nikita… and decided to call her "Keat" as both a shortened version of the name she was used to and a tribute to a couple in Michigan we all love dearly. Jim one of the leaders of the Fifty6 youth group at Mars Hill. He and Madyline shared sarcastic humor and a love for all things off the path. Jess was Mady's first life-group leader and she loved her with a beautiful friendship. Long after Mady moved on from that group... she'd call Jess, Jess would write her little notes, they'd email or g-chat. Then, when Harrison moved into Fifty6, he and Jim hit it off from the start. Jim just has this way about him that fully engages kids and brings the best out of them, and then he introduces them to how cool the bible is and how cool you are to live life out of it's pages. We talked a lot about Jim and Jess in those days, they really had a great impact on all of my kids. On Tuesday, the lady from the society emailed to let us know that Nikita wasn’t available… she actually wasn’t’ even alive anymore. We cried. Real tears… because, like I said, it wasn’t really about the dog anymore, was it? Tuesday was just kind of a day like that though. I felt lost and overwhelmed most of the beginning of the week. I know it is normal, classic textbook cross cultural adjusting blues… but it is still difficult to navigate, especially with kids who are in similar places.

On Saturday, when we found our puppy... As we were snuggling her up, looking in to her eyes, watching for her personality to come out before we truly decided to take her home... The kids all say unanimously "Mom… THIS is Keat!" So we brought her home, and the name is seeming to be sticking. I’ve suggested a couple others, but, no… She is Keat. I wanted to give her a more feminine name since she is going to be such a beast. Elaine, Claire, Ruby... But Keat it is. So, we came to a fun agreement and named her Ruby-Keat. The kids have started to pick it up and call her Ruby Keat as well. It kind of rolls off the tongue in a cute way. The other day I overheard Avery trying to redirect her sharp little teeth saying "Now, now... Miss Ruby-Keat" All full of soft "ah" sounds like a little Southern Belle. It is simply precious!

So, Ruby-Keat is now home with our family... She puts things in her mouth way too much ... especially fingers and toes and the cuffs of our jeans. She whimpers at night and keeps us all awake. She fools us in to thinking she has a good idea of where her toilet is, and then she goes in the house three times in a row. She licks our faces and sleeps on our laps and falls over her clumsy puppy paws and gets so very excited when we offer her a piece of cheese. We love her dearly. We feel like this is starting to become home after all.