So I’ve been unintentionally keeping the fact that I have a puppy a secret for like a month now. (He’s 8-weeks-old in the first picture and 11 weeks in the second.)
He’s a toy poodle I named James that my sister bought me for my 21st birthday because she’s fucking insane and amazing in every way.
Long story short: I lost my immunity to my Pomeranian’s fur after I left for college, and once I brought him down to live with me he started shitting all over my new house (even though he is/was house trained) and annoying my roommate’s incredibly peaceful female German Shepherd to the point that I’m surpirsed he’s still alive, so I had to take him back home after two months. My stepdad was ecstatic to have him back, and Mocco was happy to be home. It worked out for the best, I guess.
My sister was going to bring up her 1-year-old poodle puppy from Paraguay for me after realizing it was too much responsibility on top of three kids under the age of six, but when that became too expensive, she offered to buy me a new puppy instead.
And he is the greatest thing ever. I should mention, I visted several dog shelters before deciding to buy a puppy from a non-breeder, but every dog was either too big or too allergenic for me… or a Chihuahua.
No regrets, though. He is a living teddy bear with the sweetest heart, and his old man eyebrows brighten my days.
Expect to hear a lot more about how awesome he is in the future.
