Ramona was very sleepy by the time we got to her, so she kept collapsing on me as I tried to take her picture.
Intervention was clearly required.
Ramona is a really neat little puppy. She’s got the highest play drive in the group and she’s always got her mouth on something. She’ll tug eagerly already. She’s on top of the chickens and trying to move them. She’s also very loving and affectionate and gets along with Sammy and Godric and the non-Mom dogs the best of any of them.
She’s the logical choice for us to keep – she’s a workaholic, she’s a girl, she’s a brindle, as far as we know she’s not a coated puppy… but…
CRAP ON A STICK, PEOPLE.
I am so head-over-heels for this puppy that it’s sickening. He is HILARIOUS. His face is like a plush toy. He’s EXPLODING with coat. I want to run away with him to a desert island and live on the rainbows and unicorn tears that radiate from his laughing face.
Heck if I even know what he looks like in terms of conformation, because every time I look at him I just make squeaking noises and bury my face in whatever region is fluffiest that day. I think he’s pretty good, but honestly it’s the fact that he’ll catch my eye, stare at me and then flip himself completely over and bounce back upright and giggle and run away. He’s going to be BAD, and therefore I must love him.