Most Sincerely,

He is my lord, he is my saviour and he rewards my good behavior. My secret soul, I know he's seen it he says, come here baby and kiss me like you mean it. He calls me baby, says kiss me like you mean it. He is my life and my salvation he's always right, he's always patient I pinch myself it's like I'm dreaming it... He is my love, he's always been it...

--Kiss Me Like You Mean It, The Magnetic Fields

These are our nights, sleepy and bundled up against the chill. The dogs cling to us because we are heat, warmth against the cold of the hard wood floor. Delilah is older and she can get to the warm places easier. Barrett can't. He jumps and jumps and gets no further. Then he looks to us, with huge brown eyes. He ain't nothing but a hound dog, crying all the time. He cries, and I remember he is an infant dog. He's only a baby, eight weeks old today, and already our little crocodile. His growl, snap, and lunge perfect this nickname to him. And tonight, waking bleary eyed Josh grabs him-- his wiggling, perfect puppy body squiggling and he is an 'extra-large salamander' on his way to potty, outside.