My little Pickle is one year old today. Everyone is hoping that means puppyhood is a thing of the past. No more Kleenexes shredding on the floor. No more baskets chewed up and spit out. Less barking. More snuggling. Yeah, that'll happen. She is a blessing on so many levels. Her main dog job has been to get Boo off his little Boo butt and keep him lithe and limber as he enjoys double-digit dogdom. And she does a wonderful job of that, especially when I am on the phone. As soon as I pick it up, they start to growl and tumble around my feet like two year olds, usually fighting over a toy, one that Pickle has hit Boo in the face with enough times to peak his interest. And I suppose I must give up the notion that she will grow into her teeth. My mother says she looks like a little thug. Really, Mom, this is my little Pickle-muffin, my little Pickle-fluffy-butt. My sweet Pickle.
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