I'm no princess

Herbie has decided the puppy can stay.

Being the resident older dog and ruling the roost, or at least the leather chair he sleeps on all day, he has deemed Olive can reside here. Though he treats her like the annoying second cousin you only see once a year at a family picnic and never really liked. Sometimes if we aren't looking he will play with her. Of course, once eye contact is made with him, all play stops and he flings himself on the ground with a huge sigh as if to say "My God, she has killed me folks, seriously I am dead over here!"

Olive takes none of this to heart. She continues on her merry, albeit stupid, way and continues to try and attach herself like a goiter to his face. Occasionally he will growl at her, but this bothers her not in the slightest, she is no girly girl in the face of danger. She is no girly girl in the face of no danger either. I have tried to give her the lady like speech. Stop running into the fridge door. Stop chewing the beautiful leash. Stop sticking your head under Herbie's leg while he is answering the call of nature. Stop making me wash your head. All of this is to no avail. She barrels through her days like a miniature bulldozer.

Thank goodness she wears a pink collar, if not for that you would have absolutely no idea she is a girl. She is not dainty. We didn't get a little princess. She will inhale her food and then proceed to belch her way through half a TV show. She drinks water by sticking her entire head in the water bowl, like there is some sort of game prize at the bottom of the bowl. She sleeps on her back with all four paws out to the side. Lives for dirt, mud, slugs, and any piece of garbage she can find. Nope, this ain't no elegant mademoiselle we have residing with us.

She is a my way or highway kind of dog. Which is just what we wanted.