Where it All Started...

I grew up in the farmlands of a small town on the corner of Shadyside and Oaks Road. Since we lived on an old dirt road in the middle of almost nowhere, my father wanted a German Shepherd to protect the property and family business. Kallie was our first - a black and red stock coat working line Shepherd who was trained to follow hand signals. Later we adopted a black and cream named Duke. When the pair was occasionally bred, we would see some longer coats be produced. Oh, those fuzzy little cubs were so adorable!  All of my siblings loved the long coats. We got to name the puppies while we had them. Mom kept Kimmie, a black and silver plush coat who would sing along to "impossible dream". One litter, we got a little fuzz ball who was black and red and Mom thought she looked like Kallie so we kept her, too. She was the sweetest thing ever. Mom named her Miss Congeniality and called her Genie. 

That's where it started - the temperament and color of Genie. I would go on to adulthood with a desire to bring people these wonderful, congenial German Shepherds. After having three kids under the age of 5 and one being Autistic, I said to myself  "bring it on!"  We got a puppy around my youngest's 1st birthday: our beloved Elsa. She had a black and red long coat and was my wonderful girl, watching over my children and herding my Autistic son around, letting him pull her ears when he sat on her, too. Unfortunately, Elsa's hips were not suitable for breeding  and I wanted to breed well.

The dream was put on pause during the Great Recession and the challenges of raising a son with Autism. We had a wonderful bi-color Shepherd, Ripley, who would care for my growing teenagers. But my time was still not my own.  We would have to wait until my son was more independent and I could find Gypsy.

Finally, in 2017, my son asked for something for Christmas: a small dog.  We got a Yorkie and he took care of her, walking her, feeding her, and more importantly, TALKING to her.  You see, he didn't talk much.  But that little dog has his heart. 

His little Yorkie had puppies. He would weigh them three times each day and record their weight and report all changes to me.  He would climb in the whelping pen and talk to the babies (all of which he named). He would let them climb all over him.  When it was time, he would see them off to their fur-ever homes, recording their new names and where they went to live. 

That little Yorkie would raise Gypsy too.  When Gypsy came into our family, she loved those baby Yorkies. She even produced milk to say she would nurse them (Gypsy wasn't even one year old yet!). She was telling us,  "Yes! I want to be a momma too!" 

Now when Gypsy has puppies, my son gets to name every one. (Try to guess what cartoons, movies, and TV shows the names are from!) He still records their new names and where they go to live with their new families.  I think that is his favorite part.

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