Meet my new American cousin: he's a Jersey boy now

Buddy seems like he'll make a great pal!

Though my roots are in South Carolina, my adopted family's are in New Jersey. And, although they are of the Jersey shore, they're definitely not that Jersey shore. You know the one I mean.

Even so, at the last family wedding, just a couple of weeks ago, the bride and groom's first dance was to Bruce Springsteen's Jersey Girl. I wasn't there, of course, but I heard all about it.

I wasn't invited to the other shore wedding this summer, either, and that's OK, but when Mom heard that the bride had exciting news, she called her immediately.

A new cousin on the way, perhaps?

"Mike and I adopted...a dog!!" the new bride exclaimed. "His name is Buddy, we've had him less than 24 hours, and we already love him!!!"

Many more exclamation points followed during which advice about halters, beds and food was given (and Mom hardly is the one to give such advice) along with a lengthy disquisition of the joys of canine companionship. (Note: I'm being repetitive here, because the word disquisition implies lengthy, but I like the way the two words sound together. Plus the repetition might help those who have never heard the word disquisition before, much less know what it means. I guess they haven't read my blog.)

While the humans also discussed sleeping arrangements involving a crate, I'm pretty sure that Buddy will have his own ideas about making himself comfortable in his new digs.

Buddy is a lab-chow mix, originally from Virginia (so a Southern boy like me), eight months old and the graduate of a training facility. He seems intelligent and charming, just like his cousin. Welcome, Buddy!