Or something like that. I cannot imagine how we ended up with this little fluffball. But I think amidst all the panicked frenzy of the Big Move AnneMarie had her 9th birthday and ONLY wanted a little bitty doggie, and prayed ceaselessly for one, and the weekend before her big day we checked in with Craig and his list of strangers with goods and found her soul mate. She is a Yorkie-Bichon Frise designer dog three years young who was owned by a young lady who really did not have the capacity to care for her. And somehow we did?
Anyway, she is AnneMarie's now, with matching curly blond hair to prove their destined friendship.
She is surprisingly a complete delight and I feel it was a blessing that God led us to her, whom AnneMarie has named Brie.
Well, almost a complete delight, if anyone has any suggestions on training a grown dog to be crate-trained through the night it would be greatly appreciated. We have figured out she spent enormous amounts of time in there and unlike any well mannered canine, wets it every single night. I think she has just assumed she is going to be in there forever, so she might as well be comfortable.
How do we get her to understand she doesn't have to do this?