From the Pugs to the Pits . . .

So we went from the Pugs to the Pits . . . Pit bull that is. 

(But don't tell him he's a pit bull - he has no idea. He thinks he is a cross between a kitten and a toy lap dog whose mission in life is to give as many kisses and snuggles as possible.)

We're not quite sure how it happened. We weren't looking for a pit . . . we got him from a shelter in Butte - 80 miles away . . . just kind of happened up there (PS Butte is really cool - poo poo to all those people who say it is the armpit of Montana with its huge open pit mine - it has AMAZING history, old buildings, mansions, museums and a population that is as diverse as NYC - thanks to all the immigrants who settled it during the mining boom there) 

- but so, anyway, we just happened up there after a hike - after I had sprained my ankle running down the trail to 'save time' (ha!) The Captain (Mr. Honeybunny) had to end up carrying me down piggy back most of the way (one woman we passed on the trail called out to me - "Marry that man! Immediately, if you haven't already!") (I of course flashed her my ring.)

So after an Aleve given to me by some other kind soul on the trail and a drive to Butte, I limped into the shelter with the Captain and we fell in love . . . with a nine month old pit bull.