Less than 4 pounds, Milo, a green-eyed, spotted beagle mix, was handed to us by a volunteer at a Lancaster rescue, who said his mother was struck by a car. After losing our dog of 14 years in June, I wasn’t sure I had the capacity in my heart to adore another fur baby with such passion.
Boy, was I wrong.
That first night, a snowstorm was in the forecast, and we just made it home before layer of ice and snow coated the roadways and our front lawn, making potty training a real challenge over the first few days. Never owning a puppy, I learned in the early weeks about the drawbacks of trying to sleep with the little guy (never really falling asleep) and the importance of “crate training,” the act of putting him in the crate at night. Sleep-deprived, and increasingly irritable, I turned to the crate as advised, and after a few torturous nights hearing his blood-curdling cries, he found comfort and solace in his new cozy bed – inside his crate.
Milo, a name chosen and voted on by my three kids, has since exceeded our expectations in love and size.
Now, about 25 pounds and 18 weeks old, Milo still pounces on us like he’s a pup, draping his long body around our neck like a scarf. And despite the rocky early days potty training in the snow, he loves to frolic in the white powder that has become so commonplace in recent months.