Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7 Page 8 Page 9 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12 Page 13 Page 14 Page 15 Page 16 Page 17 Page 18 Page 19 Page 20 Page 21 Page 22 Page 23 Page 24 Page 25 Page 26 Page 27 Page 28 Page 29 Page 30 Page 31 Page 32 Page 33 Page 34 Page 35 Page 36 Page 37 Page 38 Page 39 Page 40 Page 41 Page 42 Page 43 Page 44 Page 45 Page 46 Page 47 Page 48 Page 49 Page 50 Page 51 Page 52 Page 53 Page 54 Page 55 Page 56 Page 57 Page 58 Page 59 Page 60 Page 61 Page 62 Page 63 Page 64 Page 65 Page 66 Page 67 Page 68 Page 69 Page 70 Page 71 Page 72 Page 73 Page 74 Page 75 Page 76 Page 77 Page 78 Page 79 Page 80 Page 81 Page 82 Page 83 Page 8482 SEPTEMBER | OCTOBER 2016 JOIN OUR FAMILY! Share your thoughts, stories, insights, advice, and yes, even frustrations and failures with Good Life Family. Email Sheryl Pidgeon, or any member of the Good Life Family team. Good Morning Texas’s Paige McCoy Smith shares a Tail-Waggin’Tale of a mom almost in the dog house - Paige Homeward Found goodPOINT PS: Look for me on WFAA Channel 8 Monday through Friday at 9:00 AM! Sit back and take this story in. Every bit of it is true. For those of you who feel like you should be crowned “Worst Mother in the World,” I am about to make you feel a whole lot better! We waited. We waited an appropriate amount of time between dogs before finally agreeing it was the RIGHT TIME to bring the RIGHT DOG home. I must confess, the last time we felt it was the RIGHT TIME to bring the RIGHT DOG home, we were DEAD WRONG. Two years after the passing of our beloved 15-year-old mutt, lovingly named Buster, we brought home an oh-so-energetic full-bred dog named “Scooter” – a dog so obnoxious he was soon known as “Annoying White Dog” (AWD). AWD was a dog that could not be trained. He chewed everything from shoes to door frames. He would bark at the doorbell or at the wind. His bark was so startling that even a person who had not birthed two children would struggle keeping her pants dry. He would also escape. Visitors had to be left on the porch until AWD could be contained. Even with these added restraints, he would escape and run with such speed that a jet-propulsion pack could not have kept up. Well-intentioned neighbors would spot AWD and drive away knowing that their 2 previous attempts to return him to our yard had failed. We finally sent AWD to live on the farm – and NO – “the farm” is not code for “the pound” or “Doggy Heaven.” We literally sent him to a farm to live out his free-roaming, tree-chewing, big- barking days. As you can imagine, our family was even more hesitant to bring home yet another dog. But we found him. He looked perfect – the Dallas SPCA website described "Fiesta" as a 3-year-old 77-pound mutt with a sweet, calm disposition. I had a private meeting with him, and it was clear – this was OUR dog! I arrived home with our newest family member and was greeted with smiles and looks of love and adoration from my children. After all, they deserved a good dog, and I was the hero bringing their four-legged-friend home. And then… Thirty seconds into his homecoming – he takes off. He slips from my grip and breaks free. Imagine the look on my kids' faces as they see the dog they had dreamed about lope off into the distance. I jump into the car and for 45 minutes search for our runaway dog. He roams through the neighborhoods before disappearing. I am devastated. This kind of bad day is one only seen on a sitcom or a daytime drama. It’s like dropping the cake before the candles are blown or getting a flat while leaving the new car lot. It’s the worst kind of memory, and it’s entirely my fault. As I head home with tears blurring my view, I spot what looks like our dog (tough to tell since we had just met). With lots of coaxing and some help from baffled neighbors (who spotted me sitting in the middle of the street trying to sweet-talk this giant animal into my car), I finally reunited with our dog, now known as "Samson.” Welcome Samson! We hope you stick around for a while. Samson posing for his "profile picture"