How often does a punim like this come around?
Three years ago today, a certain spunky squirrel-chaser dropped by for a playdate. Back then, the nice gal who rescued him from a shelter described him as Blake, a Lab-Boxer. In reality, he's more of a hodgepodge for 20, part human, part canine, part your-guess-is-as-good-as-mine. Our vet still can't figure out his questionable lineage. "He's a wonderful dog, leave it at that." Blake quickly earned the title of Sir Blakey, a more dignified moniker, don't you agree?
He's highly kissable.
Three years ago today, he spent an afternoon deciding whether to adopt us. We loved him, instantly, and he seemed pretty taken with us, too, or maybe it was just our backyard. The playdate went so well that he agreed to a sleepover. Not that he actually slept. Not that we slept, either. When he wasn't standing up in bed, he was turning around, licking my face, licking hubby's face, licking himself, getting up again, lying down and spreading across the mattress. These days, he makes it all the way to 5 a.m., 5:20, if we're lucky. Good boy! Trust me, the bounty of joy, hilarity and affection is well worth the occasional sleep deprivation. We're so glad he made up his mind to stay. Best decision ever.
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