Rosie (Don't Let The Name or The Face Fool You)

Let me start by saying I am more of a cat person.
I never really knew why I liked cats better until we finally got the boy a dog.
Now it is all crystal clear.

Please don't misunderstand me, I love all animals. (Except snakes, and they are not animals. They are Satan's minions, but that's another story.)
I love doggies, and I had plenty of them growing up.

I was more than willing to let the boy have a dog. He'd been asking for a while, but military housing has a rule about the number of pets one can own.
When sweet old Shelby "went to meet Jesus," we really began to talk seriously about a dog.
But, we were moving.
Then... we were settling into a new place.
Then... it was the holidays.
Then... we were traveling like gypsies.

And then we decided there would never be a perfect time.

After a sad and unsuccessful trip to a shelter, we started looking online. Dan/Daddy eventually found a family who needed to find a new home for their puppy.
Anybody else see red flags? Hear bells and whistles?
The family had a 5 year-old who wasn't taking care of the puppy like she'd agreed to, and the puppy needed WAY MORE attention and yard space than they could give.

So. Rosie came to love with us.
She's Puggle (Pug and Beagle) and Lab.
She's the definition of a cute mess.



The fact that I have to take her picture through the glass door should tell you something.
She is so sweet and so loving, but for the first 3 months of her life, she had no rules or discipline.
She wasn't housebroken, she was allowed to jump on people, and she was allowed to chew and nip. Not toys, but hands and faces and feet and furniture and anything else she can get her razor-sharp teeth around.
She's like a monkey on crack.
We have become "Puppy Rehab."

I do love her, but the nipping is making me psychotic.
(We've tried everything. I hear patience and time may work.)

I am now waking up WAY before I'd like to so I can feed another mouth.
And then letting it outside to make sure the floors stay tinkle and poopie free.

My house has that faint doggie smell that I swore my house would never have.
That's what I get for swearing.

Pray for me blog friends. And, if you don't hear from me in a while, please check on me. I may have been eaten by my really cute dog.