Bob’s actually been around since Easter, but he hasn’t got any blog time yet.
Partly because I have had other things on my mind.
Partly because he isn’t technically my dog.
It’s ok, Bob and I know the truth
Bob is (now) a 16 week old kelpie pup that belongs to my OH and I have therefore claimed by default. We picked him up at 8 weeks. Spur of the moment? Perhaps.
He’s been quick to worm his way into our hearts, including that of my 9 year old kelpie Tippy who is quick to express her loathing of him during every waking minute that he insists on trying to lick her face.
She can’t hide the truth when she sleeps, though.
He’s in his “so-cute-but-oh-my-god-he’s-evil” stage, characterised by high levels of energy and inability to understand why no one wants to play in the wee hours of the morning.
This is interspersed with brief rest breaks which make you forget why you thought he was so much work in the first place.
He’s not an elegant sleeper
Couldn’t imagine life without him now honestly.