It has finally happened.
The day I have waited for all my life.
We are the proud owners of a puppy.
His name is Barney and he is a jack-chi-pom-shih. In other words, a tiny mut with massive ears and an obsession with chewing my hair and my toes. And anything else he can find, but I hear that’s all par for the course.
Ian has stayed at home this week in an attempt to toilet train him. It’s my turn next week, but today Ian sent me the best text in the world.
“Barney learnt to climb the stairs. He has pooped under the spare bed.”
I was just impressed that such a tiny dog had bravely managed such an epic climb, but then I didn’t have to clean it up.
If I had been there, I would have said “You pooped upstairs? How’d you do that? I’m not even mad. That’s amazing.”