She may be a little fella, but she’s the top dog.

Queen of the pack.

She knows it, you can tell by the look in her eye.

Not like some of the other dogs, she’s perfectly ok with being a little fella. She’s comfortable in her skin, none of those wolfhound vs terrier hangups. As happy dragging a tree trunk between her canines as catching a twig thrown for her amusement.

She already knows whether she’s about to drag that big old branch around or crunch a little twig between back teeth. Comfortable in her choice.

She just isn’t letting on which way she’ll jump just yet.


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