She weighs 14 pounds and a few ounces. She seems to have enough energy to power a small town.
We go on a 2-mile walk, and we come home exhausted, and she is still bright and lively and acts like she could go another 2 miles. I suspect she could quite easily pull me on roller blades.
She has captured our hearts.
She is far more of a hunter than our other dog was. She is convinced there is a rat living under some old rusted file cabinets that our barn has fallen down around.
She is probably right.
She is obsessed with catching it.
We did not want a “yappy little dog,” and, fortunately, she is not. She is very quiet. She has barked once—and that was because she was beside herself trying to get to a rabbit.
The cat is not exactly thrilled with the new animal in the house, but they are getting long remarkably well. Squeaker came up to her the other day and gave her a head-butt, which is what Squeaker does to us when she wants us to scratch her head. And we are breathing easier.
We have not named her yet; for the moment, she is Little Doggie. Unless, as my friend says, she picks her own name, that is probably what we will end up calling her.
We are very glad she has come into our lives.