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DodgerEverettIt’s no fun being wrong.

Except when it’s absolutely right.

This afternoon, our daughter messaged us a short video of our 10-month-old grandson entertaining himself with Dodger, one of their two large dogs. Everett chortled as he played patty-cake on Dodger’s back, stuck his chubby hands in Dodger’s mouth, and tugged on his fur. All the while Dodger lay peacefully at Everett’s feet, seemingly happy to serve as the baby’s personal playground.

Did I mention that Dodger is a pit-bull?

Part pit, anyway, and part who-knows-what-in-the-kennel else.

When Everett’s big sister was born nearly four years ago, I worried for months in advance about those dogs. Fear grabbed me by the throat and shook me silly. Our kindly family collie, Kelli, had snapped once at a small visitor who grabbed at her fur. If Lassie was capable of potentially harming a child, what could a pit bull do to our granddaughter’s face?!

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So I fussed, and I fretted, and more than once (ok, every other conversation), I suggested that maybe the dogs should be moved away from the baby. Like to the next state.

And my daughter, who knows her dogs as well as her mama’s penchant to worry, took it in stride.  Of course she watched the dogs around the baby carefully in the early days. “There was a voice in my head (one that sounded very familiar),” she says now, “warning that even the best pets can surprise you..” But worry? Waste of time for my girl.

Winston Churchill knew something about worry when he wrote this:

When I look back on all these worries, I remember the story of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which had never happened.

And it never has. Dodger loves his two human siblings, and submits willingly to serving as plaything, pillow, and personal assistant.

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And I need to confess to Pit-bull Profiling.

Who else have I been wrong about lately? The slouchy young man in the hoody with the tats? The goth teen with shocking pink hair? The older woman at church whose grumpy expression overlays a kind heart?

It’s no fun being wrong.

Except when it’s right.

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