The Wrio Wreport

This is Wrio. For only five months old, she's very good. Still in that precious (and useful) "I'll just be sleeping here most of the day, thanks" phase, little Wrio spent much of her time with me doing exactly what you see here. And, of course, shaking the cubicle walls of my office with her magnitude-seven snoring.

I found myself unnecessarily tiptoeing around her when she was snoozing under the desk, because I'm so used to a dog who was perpetually ready to spring into action. Seriously, I would move my office chair two inches to the left to reach for the stapler, and Lomax would be on his feet, awaiting further instruction. Wrio, however, seemed unphased even by my leaving to make some copies or send a fax or hop on a plane to Africa. As long as she was comfy -- and I think you can see by my choice of photos that she's quite practiced in the art of comfy -- she didn't care what I was doing.

All week long, at work and at church, I heard, "She looks like a smaller version of Lomax!" I suppose it's true from the perspective of someone who didn't live with him; there are only so many variations on a yellow Lab theme, after all. But the differences are obvious to me, and not just physical differences. Wrio is calm with her greetings, tolerant of snuggling, unlikely to lick an ear off the side of your head. And boy can she chew...doesn't matter what, as long as it's within reach.

She may look bigger in these shots, but she's a petite pup for sure. I can pick her up the way you'd pick up a lamb. It felt weird hugging someone so little, and having to bend down to pet her head when she was standing next to me.

Wrio isn't just a pretty face, though she is certainly that as well. My area leader even "borrowed" her for a few hours to take her to a GDA fundraiser, because we all know it's true: the smaller the puppy, the bigger the donation. How can you resist something so tiny, so adorable, so talented and well behaved? It's like having Dakota Fanning on a leash.

She's just so lovable. In her desire to remain right at my feet, Wrio would squeeze herself between my shins and the cabinets when I was standing at the kitchen counter or bathroom sink. It was less endearing, however, when she'd squeeze herself between my leg and the dashboard while we were on the freeway.