I own a notorious dog. One that, as I’ve been told, is hyper, mean, and likes to jump all the time. Yes, I own a dreaded Jack Russell Terrior or as her Vet, Dr. Altmeyer called her on the first visit, “Jack Russell Terror.”
I’m not quite sure why people distinguish this with her breed but my little girl is different. She was the runt of the litter, always being pushed around by her siblings. The night we went to look at the puppies, she was laying all alone on a blanket while the others were roughing things up. I sat down on the floor watching them, laughing and loving their antics and soon I felt this puppy trying to climb onto my lap and each time a bigger brother would run to us and knock her over. With her head down, she’d go back to her blanket. Once she saw the coast temporarily clear, she’d try again to climb on my lap only to get rushed at and knocked over.
Finally, I stated, I like this one. My husband Tim asked, “Are you sure? She just lays around.” I answered, “Yep, She’s mine.” (More to come)