in the park on the last day with him, it was sunny and the pup started throwing up - I held him with his little ribcage across my palm as he yacked then he curled and shat out the other end too, complete distress the size of my hand outspread. that's when I panicked . . . . so I did what I do: pray, cry, bla bla, then I had to let him go to someone who will know what to do to make him happy/well (who doesn't have kids prolly) (or a big brother dog - truth be told, Jasper acted like a dick). the breeders concur, and are being fantastic about it, and I'm gratefully free to choose another on which to spend my swollen love. a world of options, dogwise. I feel too achey, though, about it still - they all look lovable enough, I spose (and Otis looks like Hugh Jackman), and/but they're all not-mine. so I'll just see who kisses me, and then put my faith in the truth contained within a nzl
-----
update: talked to the breeder this morning, asked for a matchmaking, and they suggest this little dude - I like his freckles . . . but no deal will be sealed until I get a kiss (or not) when I go meet him sometime this week
