As of Thursday, we are puppy owners. Here's our little guy (I can pretty much only get pictures of him when he's sleeping):
He's already been such a joy and such a pain. Everybody told me that puppies are a lot of work, but I knew that my puppy would be different. He would be so smart and so good and never wake us up at night or terrorize the cats or go potty on the carpet or chew on things he isn't supposed to or jump on people or smell bad. Because he is my dog. He would know better.
Nope. He's a lot of work. Worth it, of course, but a lot of work. We're starting slowly but surely to get the ground rules set. It's mostly just a game of patience, patience, patience.
Based on his appearance, we're guessing that Winston's father is at least part Bluetick Coonhound (we know his mother is a Free-Lance Bulldog, but we can only guess on the father). Winston's hound-looking features have upped the quoting of the "I'm a hound dog" line from "The Fox and the Hound" in our household by roughly 32845600%. Which is okay, because it's so cute:
