Rick Maltsby P.I.

Ricky Maltsby P.I. is our dog. He was my BFF while I was pregnant with Eli, my first. We went everywhere together. I felt guilty leaving him to go to the grocery store, for crying out loud. Now with three kids he is situated comfortably at the bottom of the pig pile. His needs are limited and predictable. Not the case for everyone else in the house. I seek out his company in the day when things turn inside out. He’s the closest thing to an adult in the house before 6pm. When I look past that hair into his loving eyes, he assures me that the kids are the crazy ones. He is always on my side, that one.

Or he was until last Thursday when he ate dinner off the counter while I was off juggling the kids.