Backstory. Part tres.

So anyway.

This is Tug and Cutter on their first full day with us and the reason that we did not eat them. Cute as dreams. This photo was taken by a very good friend of ours on their first morning with us when they were basking in the we’re-puppies-aren’t-we-scrumptious-and-why-not-cuddle-us mindset that is puppiedom.

Conveniently forgetting, of course, the night before.

When we got home from NC we had a cocktail, fist-bumped each other and played with little Tug and littler Cutter. Puppies are FUN. We made dinner, cleaned up, relaxed, and got ready for bed. 

Thinking that Cutter and Tug would be good in a box with a ticking clock to keep them company (honestly, I read this shit somewhere) we, um, boxed them up and went to bed. 

HOHOHO,HAHAHA,HEHEHEHE, Not so fast, Junior.

Listening to a puppy spill his guts about being removed from his home is a little like hearing your kid sister get her arm torn off. Times two.

After fighting it for an hour or so, we ended up sleeping on the couch with the boys curled up amongst us until they had to pee. Which was hourly. Every hour. Did I mention that it was, um, every hour? All night?

Thank god they were cute the next day.