Little white beard

Little white beard on the dark-brown face, I cannot stop looking at you. You show the origins, my puppy’s family – a dark-brown loving mama and a sweet caramel-flavoured dad, a beautiful union. Their markings mark my pup. Their blood is pumping his heart. When I look at you, my puppy, I see all your parents, your doodle lineage, your proud heritage. You are part of our family now, but you will always be theirs too.

Little white beard on the dark-brown face. What can you tell me? Everyday you show me what the puppy has been doing. Water dripping from the beard all over the floor – the puppy is hydrated. Pieces of food stuck inside the beard show the menu for the day: kibble, treats or something from the table. If the beard is messed up, he has been sleeping. If the beard is not white, he has been in the yard, playing in the mud. Little white beard, you never lie.

Little white beard on the dark-brown face. Why are you here? Every time we leave the house, you stay by the window, patiently watching every passerby. You are the only bright spot on a chocolate body and the only thing visible in the window. You are always there. You greet us when we pull over. You shake anxiously when we open the door. You are happy.

Little white beard, you are precious. I cannot stop looking at you.

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