.....otherwise we would strangle them for peeing on the carpet. Again. After they came inside after a literal hour-long romp in the hay. Or grass. Or maybe it's the teething. Sven is great at not chewing on things, but he is days, maybe minutes, away from losing those baby teeth, which means that suddenly everything in the house looks like a chew toy. Yesterday two of the girls left their American Girl Dolls out on the floor. Yes. On the floor. Practically calling Sven's name to come see how their arms taste. Luckily we found them first and picked them up, but I had the girls each write a contract stating that they understand that leaving their dolls on the floor means that eventually they will be full of holes. ("They" of course refers to the dolls, not the girls) I think they get the point. Hopefully.
He's quickly outgrowing his favorite windowsill.
Either way, I love my puppy more than anything except maybe my husband. Ok definitely not more than my husband, but sometimes it's a pretty close call.
Our favorite way to describe Sven right now is that he'll be a smart dog, but he's one dumb pup. But who doesn't love a little, clumsy, lick-y, body-bigger-than-his-brain puppy? Especially when he likes to cuddle like this:
He loves the girls. The feeling is very mutual.
And if you're wondering how the cat is taking in this new adorable ball of fur, she's fine. She's taken to watching him from some unusual places though, like the hallway closet. (Side note: we live with a bunch of girls who don't know how to tell us that they just used the last roll of toilet paper, so we stock up. It saves my sanity.)