Rambo is the youngest of our pups at 2 years old. I have this ... addiction to dogs. It's kind of a bit more troublesome than an addiction to cats because, well, the dogs I love average about 55 lbs each.
It came time I was wanting a new dog. I had to convince my husband it was a good idea. I may have twisted a few hypothetical comments he made about wanting a small dog into a statement about getting a dog if it was a small one. And cheap. So I found both. :)
To get Rambo we had to drive nearly two hours. This is nothing. Many of my puppy owners live about two hours away. Some, a full day's drive. The difference being, I'm not too far off the highway, as middle of nowhere as I live. Where we went to get Rambo was beyond even that, a farm surrounded by more fields and horse corrals.
There were bikes everywhere. Bikes hanging foundation to roof on the big red barn. More bikes lining the split rail fence. The dogs were brought out because the bulldog inside wasn't people friendly. They were incredibly cute, these tiny little pups. I wanted the runt. Kris chose the only liver-colored pup out of the black and whites because he was the only one to interact with our son.
So now, we have a terrier mutt who shouldn't get more than 15 lbs due to his Boston Terrier and Chihuahua parentage. He's 25 lbs now. He barks. He jumps. He is nothing I was prepared for growing up with a lab-chow mix and then boxers. I still don't really know what to do with him, but he is a fantastic, loving dog who listens 80% of the time - which is whenever he can hear me over his own barking.
In short, he kind of fits in perfectly. :-)