“When Rosie tilted her head, snorted twice, and rolled onto her back, I knew. That was my dog.”
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She rolled on her back before I finished my sentence.
She insisted on the driver’s seat for pickup photos.
Small, brave, wagging like a metronome.
Somewhere, another puppy is waiting to become someone's Rosie.
Find Your FrenchieJust us, one very small pumpkin muffin.
Sandia Peak. She napped in my backpack halfway up.
She still snorts twice before she gets a treat. Every time.
Families add a new chapter every year. We keep every one of them, side by side.
One Month Later“The house felt occupied for the first time in years.”
Six Months Later“I traveled less. She was the reason. I don’t regret it.”
One Year Later“Some love is loud. Some love is a chocolate Frenchie snort. Both count.”
