We call her "Bad Dog" because she's passive aggressive and sometimes plain old agressive. 

On Hallie's thirteenth birthday she asked for Mac makeup, an iPhone or a dog. I thought she deserved a four-legged best friend. After giving an impassioned speech to Jason about why we should get her a dog, we decided to surprise her. 

I remember searching for the right best friend for Hallie. I looked at the pictures on the Facebook page of the Humane Society. I used my phone to screenshot the pictures of possibilities. 

"Bad Dog" was one of the first dogs I spotted. I thought she was a cutie. The writer started out calling her "Angel". The next sentence said something like, "Just kidding, she's a bit of a mess. Her name is Ivy". 

Well....anybody knows that the writers of these blurbs make the dogs sound as good as possible. If the dog still wets and messes indoors they say something like "mostly trained". If they're as wild as all get-out, they say something like "playful...or energetic". 

I put "Ivy" on the bottom of my list. (She was cute. I had to give her that.). 

My visit to the shelter still remains vivid in my memory. I had a list of three dogs I wanted to look at. As soon as I walked past the first room where kennels lined the wall, I spotted "Ivy"...out of every dog in the bunch. 

I quickly moved forward, intent on sticking with my list. I asked to look at an Australian shepherd girl puppy I'd picked out online. She'd been adopted the day before. "But we still have her brother," the volunteer smiled. 

I looked at "Brother's" beautiful blue eyes as he was handed to me. I was immediately distracted by the warm, wet sensation running down my arm. Guessing he was one of the  "mostly trained" dogs, I quickly handed him back. I decided to look at dog number three. 

Dog number three was CRAZY out of control. I get it, they grow out of it. But we needed a ready-made potty trained, calm friend. The volunteer asked if there was any other dog we might be interested in. I remembered "Ivy" who'd caught my eye when I walked by. 

We walked back to the kennel-lined room where my ears were assaulted by barks; some shrill, some booming. There sat "Ivy" as quiet as a church mouse with her paws folded in front of her as if she were engaging in morning meditation. 

The volunteer pointed me to a chair in the next room and left to go let "Ivy" out of the crate. The sweet pup trotted to me and climbed in my lap. She curled up and allowed me to rub behind her ears. Maybe she was an angel. I signed the papers. 

She was a tear-inducing surprise days later as she was handed over to Hallie. Ashlee, as she's been renamed, has been a surprise ever since, like the time she chewed up my trusty Sunday black heels. I won't forget one of the first times we had company after getting her. They stayed in the apartment in our backyard. To welcome our company, Ashlee messed on the sidewalk...in three different places. She creatively punishes Hallie when Hallie hasn't performed in a stellar friend manner by doing things like laying on our other daughter's (Rylie's) bed.  

There's one thing that Ashlee does that doesn't surprise me anymore. Her ritual is like clockwork. Every morning when we let Ashlee outside, almost immediately she perches herself in front of the low-lying living room window and she waits. She watches, hoping to catch a glimpse of her best friend (even though she's slept in a crate right by Hallie's bed). She's gives no attention, for that moment, with the morning walkers and the cars zizzing down the street. She's unconcerned. You won't find her looking for the neighborhood cat, "Moot", who struts up our driveway for his daily exercise in taunting. 

  
A loud little thing, this is her time to just be still and silent, knowing she is in the right spot. She takes the time, before facing her day, to be near the one who loves her most. And it's enough. 

Psalm 90:14 Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love,

    that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.

Ivy. 

Angel. 

Bad dog. 

Ashlee. 

Evil genius. 

Whatever you want to call her... I call her wise. She knows the one who is there for her, the one who cares for her, the one who is her best friend. And life is best when she remembers this. When she experiences this. And when she sits and waits expectantly knowing her friend is never far away. 

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