Sadie Bee

Meet Sadie. She is a pure bread Miniature Doberman Pincher, who belongs to my dear sister-in-law, Lauren. And as such, she is the newest member of the family. She was born Oct. 9th, 2011. 

Probably full grown at 6 lbs.

When Lauren graduated from college, her sister promised her a puppy when she was ready. Approaching this past Christmas, Lauren told us she was ready for a little darling.

Already knowing which breed we were looking for, we found  Minpin breeder not far from Raleigh. And during our trip home to NC before Christmas, we picked up a 9 week old cutie!

In the car ride from the breeder's

We met Lauren at work and presented her with her new baby. 

Lauren meets Sadie for the 1st time

Her first leash outing with Lauren, already has beautiful stance

Back at Lauren's apartment, Sadie is no stranger to "ruff" housing and playing around. 

But, like every puppy, after a bit of fun play, she was out like a light on her new bed. 

You can't tell from this picture, but she's sleeping under the X-mas tree

Lauren may not like me saying, but she's got some sassy-ness about her. And because of this, I thought it was hilarious when that little dog, after the first time Lauren tried to discipline it, gave Lauren all the kind of sassy protesting she could muster. A fitting match, I think.

Sassy Lauren, waiting for her new "dog"hter to pee outside rather than inside again

Dog Lovers Beware

Isn't she adorable!

I thought I'd share my broken heart with you. But if you love dogs and have a tender heart, you might want to steer clear of this little story (which means Hannah and Yaar E should have no problem with it).

As a college graduation gift for my sister in-law (SIL), Heather and I have been planning to get her a puppy. This has been no secret. A min-pin (mini pincher) was the dog of choice, and it was decided that Christmas was the appropriate time that my SIL was ready for a dog.

A month ago I contacted a NC breeder of Minpins outside of Raleigh and reserved a puppy in a litter that, at the time, had not even been born. After the birth, the breeder sent me this picture of the little angel. I passed it along to my SIL, and the picture was shown around to friends and family both here and in Raleigh as many soon-to-be parents show off sonograms. In dog loving families, a new dog is almost as significant as a new baby.

Anyway, on to the sadness...

About two weeks ago, I got a phone call from the breeder, late one night, who said she had some "bad news." My defenses went up. Had she sold it to someone else? Had the puppy gotten sick? I waited for her to continue. And then, I recognized a "tone" of voice that I've grown all too familiar with as a chaplain talking with grieving people. Her voice choked a little, became a bit scratchy and her pace of speech slowed. Like a doctor delivering bad news to a family, the words came out like heavy stones thrown from her heart.

She has a nursery structure on her property in which most of her dogs (mommies, puppies, studs) live. The previous night, the heater for this facility went on the fritz. The thermostat malfunctioned and the heater pumped out as much heat as it could for hours on end until the next morning. The breeder awoke the next morning and walked as usual to her nursery to find it heated to 120 degrees, and 24 dogs laying lifeless in their beds. This 24 included the little girl in the above picture.

The stronger dogs that survived were drenched with sweat, and she said one of them was even coughing like a person who inhaled smoke into the lungs. She was devastated. I was shocked. Her two young children didn't understand and had cried most the day until their tears ducts were depleted. What had for years been her little oasis of dog and puppy tail-wagging life each day had been transformed over night into a mass K-9 grave.

I went into chaplain mode, and spoke with her for more than half and hour, doing my best to listen and console as she bore her heart to me, a stranger whose face she's never seen. She'd spent most of the day, burying dogs and nursing the survivors back to health. The rest of the time she spent making phone calls to customers like me to deliver the bad news. As the last piece on her pile of grief, she'd lost thousands of dollars in her business.

Yet, instead of throwing in the towel, refunding deposits and giving up all together, she expressed her strong desire to do right by me. She had a friend and fellow breeder of Minpins whom she'd contacted. The friend agreed to sell her a female puppy so she could honor her agreement with us. I was grateful, but mostly saddened on her behalf.

We still have a new puppy soon entering the family; however, this sad story is now attached to the joy that the dog will bring. My hope is that the traumatic event (and this post's telling of it) will not sully my SIL's joy of a new dog.

Our hearts go out to this breeder. So if you have a little extra, send some light and lover her way. If you're a praying person, whisper and utterance of compassion on her behalf.

Sorry for the sad story. My brother is probably crying by now reading this. I once heard someone say something like this, "Suffering bared alone is multiplied, but suffering shared is divided." (Lance hopefully, these are emotions working for the good.) I find there's healing in sharing our sadness and bearing our hearts to one another.

Until next time, shalom.

Pups + Snow = FUN

Our dogs love the snow! More specifically, Lola loves running and playing it it. She dashes, leaps and then disappears as a cloud of white snowy mist arises from where ever she landed or turned. When she emerges from said cloud she is as happy as dog-ly possibly. In contrast (those of you who know Dakota best will understand this) Dakota loves to eat the snow. 

Total accumulation, we probably received a little over two feet of snow so far in my part of Anchorage. 

Dakota and Lola, of course, are NC dogs and not really made for this kind of cold weather. Hence, when we go to the dog park for long periods of play, they have to wear doggy vests and little booties over their feet. 

Now, when ever we get out their vests, they get so excited. 

In the snow, there's no need for a tennis ball. Snow balls make perfect fetch apparatuses (apparati?). Well, sort of, they can't exactly bring them back. But, at least they get to go and run. 

Ready to pounce!

We regularly go to the dog park with our friend Janalle and her husky-lab mix, Dannie-girl. Around our house, whenever we say Dannie's name, our two muts get really excited.

At dog park, w/ friend Janelle and Dannie-girl

Other words that instantly excite Dakota and Lola are, "play," "outside," "go," "hungry" (and Hungary), "Anna" (Heather's mom), and daddy saying to them in puppy voice, "Your momma's home!"

Of course, the most motivating sound, the one that get's them up the quickest, the mover of those muts, the thing that has them scurrying through the house as fast as you'll see them move is....the sound of food dropping to the floor when cooking. 

(Similarly, the single sound that gets me moving the quickest is... the sound of dry-heaving pre-upchuck that Dakota makes at 3am in the morning on a work night.)

Heather, Janelle, Lola and a little spit of Dannie on the right

Hope you enjoyed the pictures. 

Nicknames

This blog post and idea are unabashedly stolen from my sister's recent blog, which you can read here. I thought her's was so cute, I just had to do one.

Our dogs are loved, that’s for sure. Recently, we came up with this list of all his various names that they have. They know them all, too.

Dakota
Dakota Bear
Bear-Bear
Coda
Coda-Bear: combination of the previous two
Daco-Taco: a name assigned by my my brother and his girlfriend
Bouder-bouders (pronounced "boo-ders")
Cocanut (head): a favorite of my father-in-law
Baders: (pronounced "bay-ders") Random derivaition from Bouders.
Butters: a mal-derivation of bouders (my brother never understood this one
Cocoa

Lola
Lola Bug
Buggy-Bug: Lola pushing a shopping cart
Bug
LOOooola (Big exaggerated "O" sound at beginning)
Lola-Cola: also from brother and girlfriend
Bone head
Buggie: an infantilization of the "bug" surname.
(Sometimes I call her "Vet Bill")

Things we call the pair of them:
The girls
Pup-pups
Babies
Bubbies: yet another degradation from the previous
Puptons: stolen adopted terminology from my sister, her boyfriend and their dog

Our dogs are loved and lovers. I can't, literally cannot, look at them without cracking at least the smallest smile. They make life better, and that's a fact. They're our own little four-legged therapists. And they are definitely man's (and woman's) best friends.

I am missing a leg...

...and Lola is missing some fur.

Isn't this picture pitiful? Yesterday, we took the dogs to an off-leash dog park in town. It's at beautiful University Lake (which is more like a large pond). There is a large open space just for running, playing, romping, frisbee and of course Lola's favorite, fetch. For those of you who've seen Lola play fetch, you can vouch that, never has another dog bested her at getting to the ball first. There's also a great walking trail all the way around the lake.

So, there we are, playing fetch, meeting other dogs, chasing tails and sniffing butts (well, Heather didn't sniff any butts). After some hard running fetch we noticed a small bit of blood in the snow (yes we still have snow in April here; in fact, it snowed a little today!). Lola had a few paws bleeding. This is not good, but it's not new either. She runs so hard, giving 110%, that she sometimes tears up her little hound feet. We stopped fetching.

I rubbered on her for a moment and noticed blood on my hand when I pulled it away. She had a wound on her side, too! It isn't uncommon for small short-lived scuffles to happen at dog parks. One dog overwhelms another who then growls, barks or snaps briefly, and it's over. Lola was even involved in one just after arriving (our problem child).

But, there was this one dog, Basil. And, he kept antagonizing Lola, barking at her from close behind whenever she was waiting for me to throw the ball. She would get aggrivated, and then correct him by barking back and growling back in his direction. She even chased him away a time or two, but he persistently came back. It is more aggrivating in hind sight than it was at the time.

Upon, finding a puncture wound on her side, we called it quits and left. We decided to take her to the Vet ER only a block from out apartment. And, because it was a beautiful and warm day yesterday (in the low 40s), the ER was quite busy. So, we waited (and watched half of Wall-E in the waiting room) and waited more. The doc finally got to Lola, heard our story and hardly checked her over, "I'll have to shave and clean the wounded area before we can tell what we're dealing with, but I'll give her a little pain medicine in the mean time."

Because Lola wasn't an emergency, she got put down a ways in the pecking barking order. We reluctantly left her in their able care and with Dakota still in the truck went home, one family member short. They called an hour or so later after the doc had had a closer look.The bleeding feet were no big deal, just some rough play resulting in some minor cuts. A little ointment and a few days to heal. Her side wound, according to the doctor, was clearly from a bite. More than just a puncture, she said Lola had been bitten and the skin pulled away, separating it from the underlayer. She needed to cut the skin a little more in order to properly clean it and then suture it back up. We were warned that it would be expensive.

They had to keep her overnight, mostly because the minor surgery wouldn't be happening for a few hours. So, we went to bed, again one member short. It felt wierd at home last night without our little fountain of energy plunking around the apartment behind me.

We called in the morning, and the doc said Lola did great. Before both going to work, we went and picked her up. For payment, oddly enough, they didn't want any money. They said they'd be fine if I just cut off my leg and handed it over to them. I thought that was a deal, so I went for it. (What? You don't want an arm too?) The leg I've been walking around all day is actually a prosthetic one, made of metal from the space ship, like Lt. Dan.

Here's a little ethical(?) question. Before leaving her at the Vet, we had to sign a paper stating whether or not we would want them to do CPR on Lola should something happen. Honestly, there was no easy answer for us. The form said that it can cost $500 just to start CPR. This made me ponder how much a dog is worth. Now, don't get me wrong. If you know me, you know how much I love my dogs. And my other thought was, if we get to the point where CPR is required, let's just let nature take its course. In the end, we signed that yes they should do CPR, but mostly because there was virtually no chance of them needing to.

At work I go over Living Wills/Advance Directives with people on a regular basis. I'd never thought of needing one for my dog.

Anyway, Lola is back home, she's a little mopey, but she's got her own little pills of doggy pain killers. Maybe I could sell them to my father-in-law! Just kidding. (But really, Randy, we'll talk later!) So, send your good vibes Lola-ward, we're going to be leaving her later this week with a house sitter for a few days as we travel back to NC. Hopefully, as her fur grows in, my leg will grow back.

Surprise

As part of our adjustment to Alaska geography, we have been informed of our need for dog booties. Dakota and Lola are no strangers to the snow; however, for 5-6 months out of the year there is snow on the ground in Anchorage. And, if we're to take them on any long walks their paws will easily get cold, get ice in them and cause their entire bodies to lose warmth. Doggy booties are in order.

So, the search began. After having no luck in a number of Super Pets, Pet Co, Cabellas and REI stores we finally got a tip to try a local pet store in Anchorage called Alaska Mill and Feed Pet Supply (or something like that; it had a long name). A fellow dog owner gave us the tip to buy only fleece booties, because dogs that have never worn other kinds (there's lots of kinds for serious hiking and rugged type stuff) wouldn't like them.

So on Heather's first day of work I went on a mission to find dog shoes. I finally found the store (it's hard to get to), found the fleece booties and bought 8 of them. There was just enough time to put them on and pick Heather up from work. The plan: For her daughters to greet their mommy in the car wearing their fancy new shoes. (Heather loves surprises like that!)

I had it all planned out. The dogs were in the car wearing the boots, and I went in the hospital lobby to wait on Heather. When she was done, we walked out together toward the car. Now, when we leave her in the car, Dakota always climbs into the front seat and greets us when we open the doors. This will only add to the surprise. When we reached the car, like the gentleman that I am, I opened the door for Heather and: Surprise! Dakota had vomited all over Heather's seat and floor board! She was missing a cutie bootie and Lola was missing two. Happy first day of work, my sweet.

Not exactly the surprise I had in mind. But aren't they just adorable in those things?! They hate wearing them, but are slowly (SLOWLY) getting used to them. Right now, when I put them on, the dogs usually just stand in one place on three legs waiting for the bad dream to end (take these things off my paws!).

I'm sure they'll adjust in time.

The one that got away

I've heard people say before that dogs don't dream. Personally, I think that's a piece of 'crap.' And here's a crappy story to explain why.

It's not unusual for either Dakota or Lola to react, move or make sounds while sleeping. Sometimes their feet will move in unison as if she were running, presumably chasing a rabbit or a stray piece of bacon on the floor. Sometimes they get bothered while dreaming and begin to whimper, breathing heavily with crimped eyebrows.

Well, not too long ago Heather and I were settling in to bed as were Dakota and Lola on their doggy beds on either side of our bed. The lights were off, crickets could be heard outside, calmness was upon us as heavy as the comforter blanket.

Soon we began hearing an adorable whimper of the not-quite-one-year-0ld puppy, Lola at the bedside. "She must be chasing a bunny," I whispered. "Or running from one," chuckled Heather back at me. Moments later the whimpering and slight rustling beside our bed ceased and all was once again calm.

Heather and I have a rule: there are certain smells that are strictly forbidden under the covers at bedtime as there is no means of escape. But shortly after Lola's daring dream our noses became highly offended by a smell so vile that it, noteably, could not be produced by a human.

However, after the usual amount of dissapation time passed we were both still strongly bothered by the abhorous aroma. After some investigation, we turned on the light. Lola, still curled up in a little doggy sleep ball, was lying next to one freshly prod

uced, still warm piece of K-9 excrement.

Yuck!

How did that happen? She's sleeping. She's dreaming. Then all of the sudden there's poop on the floor. Lola is finely house trained, and my ears can attest that she never stood up. I

can only surmise that her dream was so scary that it literally 'scared the sh*# out of her.'

So, have a laugh at my expense. My name is Nathan, and I have cleaned up dream induced dog poop in the late hours of the night. She produced only one small piece, which makes me think she wasn't intentionally unloading. Rather, somehow, in some weird twisted way, this little piece of poop was just 'the one that got away.'

Daring Dakota

To the right you can see a picture of my older dog, Dakota. She's a 4.5 year old hound mix who found us when she was approximately 8 weeks old.

Dakota is a smart puppy. She learns tricks very quickly, is highly motivated by food, follows voice and signaled commands and knows when she's in trouble before I do.

Sometimes she's too smart for her own good. In our last apartment when she would eat dirt from our house plant strewing it along the carpet she would often run into her pin as soon as I got home before we dicovered the dirty carpet. A self-punishing dog.

Recently, her cleverness has resulted in added frustration for her mommy and me. Dakota has never been allowed on any furniture. But being left alone during the day to rome the apartment by herself has apparantly led her to believe she has certain newfound priviledges.

Dakota always greets us at the door when we arrive home with an excited and adorable wagging tale. But when she's done something she shouldn't have there is no greeting. When this happens our routine is to search the apartment for a warm spot that is crinkled and matted like a furry 60 lbs something has been sleeping there.

First, it was our bed. So we began leaving things on the bed of which Dakota is afraid. She's terrified of motorcycle helmets so those worked for a while until she overcame her fear and the warm spot one day was right beside a big scary helmet.

Then we placed my hand drum on the bed. Everytime I even graze it with my hand walking by and it sounds, Dakota goes running. But, eventually she braved the dangerous drum to enjoy some bed time. Now, every morning we cover the bed with various things-drum, tool kit, clothes-just to keep her on the floor.

Thwarted from the bed, we began finding warm spots on the couch. She is wiley. This one was easy. Remembering to do it is the hard part. I plop a bar stool longways on the couch and she has no space to curl up. Thinking we'd fixed her, I came home recently to the absense of a greeting not knowing why, because the couch and bed were both dog-proofed. That's when I discovered that she had discovered the sofa chair. Yarrr!

So, because of this daring dog, before leaving the house we must cover the bed with stuff, block off the couch and sofa chair, and close the second bed room door to keep her off that bed. It's a lot of work each morning when I'm in a hurry.

Reflecting, I wonder how often God sees us like I see my dog, constantly pushing the limits trying to get away with things even though there's no chance of actually hiding it. Does God ever look at us and think, "Bad dog!"? More likely, I think God's heart responds like mine toward Dakota, eventually calling her gently and loving on her with a good rubbin, telling her I love her and that she'll always be my dog.

(And yes, the third picture is underwear on her head!)

Puppy Envy

My brother and his girlfriend suffer from "puppy envy." And they should. After all, they have cats (which are great cats by the way), but no dogs. So naturally they are envious when my wife and I got a new puppy after they had moved away to Chicago-land.




Loa, the new puppy, was very small when we got her.







But she sure has grown. Currently, at the ripe old age of 9 months, she is the same size as 4 year old and sweety, Dakota: 60lbs.








Dakota and Lola do most things together. They're just like two peas in a pod or whatever.



This one is called syncronized bone chewing.

She always has a bone or some other toy with her, and she grunts constantly as she paces when she's excited.

However, recently things have not been so picture perfect for this perfect puppy. One week ago we had her fixed because she had just gone into heat. That was amistake.

When a dog is in heat you typically have to clean up after her because she tends to leave little blood spots on the floor or carpet. This is manageable. But after her operation, she proceeded to lick her wound non-stop until it became infected and began oozing bloody puss!!! Eew. So now she's emitting from two places that we have to clean up after.

After a trip to the puppy ER and puppy prescriptions which cost nearly a dog's tail and leg, she was forced to wear one of those cone collars to prevent further licking. It's pitifully cute.

She was so depressed at first with the collar that we had to feed her by hand. She couldn't see her feet so she was hesitant to walk and had to move from room to room by following behind somebody. Otherwise she'd sadly sit in one place for hours until she had to move.

Since then she has gotten over the fear of the collar and embraced it as a part of life. Now she's no longer depressed seeming. I'm not sure this is an improvement, because she's now running all over but misjudging the cone size. Whack! goes the hard plastic into my shin, and scrape! it goes across the wall. The sound is amplified, because, as you can see, the cone is shaped like a megaphone.

At night she constantly changes position trying to get comfortable incidently keeping us awake listining to the obnoxious conehead contortions.

If you look real close in these two pictures you can see the redness on her belly. The wound is healing nicely. We clean it often and keep her away from it.

As much as I love my puppy, she has been a handful this week resulting in less time and less money. I wouldn't feel very envious of me right now. Puppy envy, I don't think so.

Don't worry Adam, you'll meet her soon enough!

River Relaxation

As part of my beautiful bride's 24 birthday festivities we, and two of our friends, packed up the camping gear and headed out to Mills River for the weekend. Our style of camping is very different than that of my childhood which involved lots of on-the-go action and playing. No, Heather and I prefer to relax, sleep lots and eat good camp'n only cookin'.




Sadly, for the first 24 hours we were there...it rained. Day and night. Our tent, fashioned for rainy weather, held up for the most part, but condensation over a period of time caused a lot of our clothes, towels, and sleeping bags to get wet in the tent...ugh.




We have two air mattresses that have electric pumps to fill them up. Alas, the first night we were there, due to rain and nightime, we were unable to locate any power outlets and were forced to sleep on the ground. Life is tough ain't it. On Saturday we did find an outlet to fill our mattresses, but we then found out that one had a leak which caused our two friends to sleep more or less on the ground a second night. Luckily, the birthday girl (and her husband) does not sleep on the ground twice, so we got the good mattress.




Saturday we also broke down, went to Wally World and bought a HUGE tarp to try and keep our tent a bit dryer. It worked, but as you can see it was a little unsightly.




Saturday evening the rain finally stopped. We got to build a fire, roast marshmellows for smores, and simply sit around the peaceful dancing flames. Sunday held true to it's name and was sunny. The tarp came off, the tent dried up, and things were serene. For breakfast we made pancakes and potatos and onions (a camping only food). Them'er some good viddles!





That afternoon we ventured down to the river for a spell and enjoyed the scenery. Mills River is on the edge of the Pisgah National Forest which is one of a 4-part system of national forests in western North Carolina.



The river is beautiful as it wanders camly but with great force shaping rocks and banks as children, adults and dogs alike play in the stream taking in the sights.







Dakota, our black and tan hound, ventured farther than ever into the waters chasing rocks. Robert was the first to trek into the faster flowing part of the river. He soon slipped and was carried about 30 feet down river before recovering as we all chuckled.









Inspired by Robert's heroics, I joined him and we traveled far upstream with the intention of riding the current over jagged and smooth stones back down to where our wives were lounging.

And we did just that...twice.








I love this picture.




Dakota: underwater rock hunting!









Wonderful wives enjoying themselves at the river.



Though part of the trip was sullied by extravegant amounts of rain, we had a great time seeing our now out of town friends again and focusing on anything but work.

Crappy Day

Once in a while when asking another how his day went I here someone respond with a long face and a sigh, "It's been a crappy day."

I have two dogs. Dakota is a 4 year old regal, lady-like, cute, prissy hound who loves pillows, long naps and belly rubs. Lola is a 7 month old excitable, dim-whitted, mud loving cute puppy with virtually no reservations in life. It is the latter of these two, my daughters for now, which led to my most recent 'crappy day.'

I got up in the morning while it was still dark and routinely went straight to take the haggle of hounds outside to use the grassy facilities. Lights are out, the world is quiet and lines are blurry as my glasses are typically not on my face (they will be from now on).

I waited on the pourch for them to finish their business, and after breathing the crisp morning air I stepped back inside to a living room with suddenly a peculiar, yet familiar and disconcerting smell. "Funny," I thought, "I didn't smell that before." I hadn't really put things together until as I walked through the dim living room my heel landed sloppily into a cold mud puddle of puppy poop!

Hopping one-footedly to the light switch my senses suddenly became very acute as I noticed two deposits of doggy diarhea in the apartment. Eew! After washing my foot, crating the culprit, and waking my wife I dashed to the store to buy carpet cleaner of which we were (naturally) fresh out.

Of course the ordeal negated the chance for a shower and made me late getting ready! It would be the day of a car pool when I was driving! Naturally these things happen on days I have a stressful group presentation and emotionally draining individual supervision! Just when CPE couldn't get more stressful we had to throw feces (like monkeys do) into the mix!

It gets better...

Upon arriving home, I step through the door to a familiar smell, and received no typical greeting from my beloved K-9s or wonderful wife. "She's struck again!" I thought.

While in her cage, sadly Lola had to go two more times. (That part is sad.) She was locked up with it, and it got smeared around by her feet and tail for God knows how long during the day. The crate has holes in the corners through which liquidy droppings had found a path to the linolium and spread on the floor as my wife turned the cage to keep Lola off the carpet when exiting. "It's good to be home!" I thought.

Not my usual welcome. The smell was compounded over several hours and strong enough to taste.

She cleaned the floor; I cleaned the cage. I washed both dogs, which with a 60lb animal requires basically showering together. Heather dried them, aired out the rooms and made a fresh smelling dinner to combat the day's aroma.

I am rarely one to say that I had a bad day. However, after this one, were you to ask me how the day went, I think I am safe and justified to answer, "Crappy day!"

Growing Pains

She has gotten bigger!

Lola is now just over 3 months old and growing like a weed. I wanted to have more time with a tiny puppy to love and carry around...but now it's getting difficult just to pick her up!

As children grow into adolescence and then into adulthood they go through first time difficult life experiences, which are often referred to as 'growing pains.' I must say we are experiencing a few growing pains of our own due to Lola's rapid size increase.

Little puppy teeth are sharp. And while we're teaching her not to mouth or bite, occasionally she still gets her tiny jaws around a finger or toe and gnaws. Ouch!

We are doing our best to house train her, and for only three months old she's doing great. But accidents still happen, and with her rapid change in size so also comes an increase in the deposit she leaves on our carpet. Eew!

Dakota, our three year old hound, is experiencing her own adjustments as well. Having to accommodate a little thing that looks just like her and wants to mimic her every move has proven to test her K-9 patience at times. Dakota has her own space (under the bed) and doggy bed (a big pillow), and we don't bother her while she's there; however, Lola has not discerned these boundaries and daily invades Dakota's space earning a quick warning growl from her 60lb older sister. Grrr!

But all in all, the little rug-rat is adjusting well and seemingly getting smarter each day. She's a great play buddy for Dakota and is quickly becoming a worthy rival.


Perhaps my favorite moments are when they lay down together to bathe in the sun or look out a window.



More pictures and updates later on.