Ella has been begging to get a dog for two years now. And for the better part of those two years, my response to her has been, "but we don't need a dog. We have Olive." I'm kidding. Sort of.
Back in late October, however, Ella's cousin got a sweet pup named Gus, and I could almost hear the gears turning in her head on the drive home that evening. I later told Jake that I felt like we were going to end up getting a dog sooner rather than later. Sure enough, Ella started hedging around asking for a dog for Christmas. Though our resolve got weaker and the list of reasons NOT to got shorter, it was a hand-written letter to the Santa, himself, that thrust us head-first in puppy mode. Evie (named for Christmas Eve) showed up at our house in the wee hours of the morning on Christmas morning. The kids were beside themselves, and we're all completely smitten with her. She's a 22 lb ball of black fur who loves to snuggle. And chew. Pee and poop on the floor, too. But, I mean.
Evie is a double-doodle. Her dad is a labradoodle, and her mom is a goldendoodle, so she has even more poodle in her than a regular labradoodle. Perk? She barely sheds. I barely sneeze. It's a win-win.
But, at just 10 weeks, she's already a sturdy 23 lbs. We're pretty sure our Evie-girl is going to be at least 60-70 lbs as an adult.
Suffice it to say, this Christmas will go down in the books as a truly special one.