and puppy makes three...

(the new addition to our home)

meet capt. mosley wheels guilford. 

known around these parts as moosh. mos. stickface. mos-aliah. 

he's a coonhound. a bluetick coonhound, which are very rare around these here parts- everyone seems to ask if he's a german short-haired pointed or a heeler mix of some sort. but guess what? he's a bona fide, purebred, hound dog. complete with UKC papers, boldly showcasing his inbred bloodline that's kept him cute as a button and loud as a... well, i don't know, what's really loud? he's that loud. 

mosley is a fun little dude.  he loves sticks. he loves to chew them and find them and bring them in the house and turn them into mini sticks. lots and lots of mini sticks. some may even call these mini sticks splinters, but i call them mini sticks, cause i like thinking that mosley has made something out of his once big stick. (this is also tied to his very popular nickname 'stickface'. can you guess why?)

mosley likes to get hyper and run around a lot (we call it the crack run), chasing his tail, his ears, and his favorite toy ever, a square piece of tupperware. however, this crack run only occurs bewteen 9:30 and 11:30pm on every given night, so don't put your pjs on and settle in until you've seen the stickface running around like an addict searching for his next fix. don't worry, though, the crack runs are short and sweet, and he'll usually tire himself out in about 15 minutes. 

our hound also loves the heat. and loves is just not a word to do justice to his feelings for heat. mosley finds the heat vents and tries to crawl in them. he chews on the lever to see if it will open, and he lays so flush against it, his droopy face pushes wrinkles up against his eyes so thick, you can't even tell if they are open or not. he also loves a little heat fan we've found, to use when the heat isn't on (heat is an expensive luxury, and for a four legged creature that eats wood and has breath the smells like day old salmon or poop, well... he doesn't always get his way). the heat dish gets the same close-up treatment, and mosley cuddles up to it so close that we have to prop it against a non-moving object to ensure it doesn't tip over. 

mosley is a hound dog, by the way. and if you don't really know what that means (cause i didn't, really), well, you're missing out. a hound dog doesn't bark: they howl. or bawl. or whatever you want to call it. i call it annoying but cute. he makes a deep, long sound over and over that is so loud it literally reverberates against our doorbell, sending a slight ring every time. one time our neighbors even asked if there was a car accident in our backyard after they heard something. turns out, mosley sounds like crashing metal sometimes. music to our ears. 

mos is a character. he's a lover. he loves lap time and he love walks and he loves treats. he loves tupperware and sticks and he loves to fart and then hunt down the scent from the air to his own butt (this seriously happens regularly). he loves to cuddle up close and he loves to sit next to the heat and make weird noises out of the blue. 

and he's ours, and we love him.