Growing up my husband wasn't allowed to have any pets on his mom's orders:Okay, so they had a hamster that his sister won but well it wasn't his and it was a hamster. He also didn't grow up around anyone who had dogs so his first real experience to them was because of me.
After a few years of learning how to pet and play with my parents two older dogs he was feeling more confident with the idea of owning a dog of our own.
But the idea of watching 7 baby puppies as they wander around, chewing/biting/clawing their way through all in their path was understandably a touch terrifying.He'd never been around puppies before, at least awake and ready to rumble puppies so there was a little bit of the learning curve over the weekend as he came to expect those little pink tongues all over his face and those sharp little claws all over sensitive skin:And after just a few hours, he became addicted. We couldn't be inside or away from them for more than an hour before he had to go out and check on them, even if they were all passed out in a pile on the lawn.
There was one point when I was coming out to check on them all and I found this:I fear he's become one of them, assimilated into the puppy collective to chew on sticks, chase their brothers & sisters and just look so damn cute in every picture.
A puppy could melt the heart of the machoest man on the planet, my husband didn't stand a snowballs chance.