Guess Who's Coming To Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner?

I've been sitting on this story for a week now, but here's the low down: Gunnar moved into his kennel and dog house at the new property for all of twenty minutes and decided to relocate. It was Sunday night, the day after we moved (last weekend), and the first time we would sleep at the new house. We tucked the goats into the barn and the white Husky into his run; however, we would intermittently look out the kitchen window towards the barn and see a large furry white thing jumping up and down. Bill and I both got a little nervous about our big dog. He came to us as a "digger" and a "runner," meaning, he goes where he wants to go. Frankly, I'm amazed we've been able to keep him this long! Let me give you a little background here:

That night Mr. H and I were absolutely exhausted after the fun filled day with the Amish and another long day of travel and moving Sunday afternoon. Basically, we unpacked our second load of items, and turned around to return to Bluebird Hollow for all animals. This time Farmer Ron took Bill in his goat-hauling truck to take Beatrice, Peaches and Chewy--and Gunnar; I took the car in order to transport the Lollipop Guild.

Picture the dingy white Husky in the middle of a dingy white farm truck between my father--who doesn't advocate for dog domestication--and Mr. H. Farmer Ron actually asked the question: "Does he go in the front of the truck?" No dad, your precious granddog goes in the back with the goats in freezing temperatures! Ugh. Sheesh. After loading our three goats, Farmer Ron, Mr. H and Gunnar the white Husky went to a little dairy goat farm to pick up some more kid goats. I strapped four little ones (dogs not goats or kids) into the car and I told them to hold on tight.

Let's fast forward again to the bouncing white Husky in the new kennel. Mr. H said he was going to go out and check on G-man. It was almost 10pm at night, we could barely move, and were also a tad frozen, as temperatures are now usually between 6 and 32 degrees Fahrenheit. Mr. H didn't even get out to the barn, as Gunnar was standing at the gate to the house: it's the gate that connects to the new Chihuahua yard. (Fancy way of describing where the Littles pee).

Luckily, Gunnar just wanted to see his family and NOT run off into a cold night where none of us (except Farmer Ron and he certainly would not have helped this late at night) knew any of the terrain. I was unpacking boxes in the kitchen when Mr. H came up the stairs with a large dog behind him and stated that the "pack was all together." What? How? Where? Oh boy...

We are adjusting to having all of our dogs in the house. Gunnar is a perfect house dog--except for trying to ingest an Advil today. Even the Littles are doing pretty well at tolerating him. And, at night, Gunnar lays on the floor on Mr. H's side of the bed and stays put all night long. However, when he dreams he barks quiet little noises which wake me up, which makes me nudge Mr. H, which makes him nudge Gunnar.

Our oldest (and smallest) and youngest (and largest)

 See, small dogs don't fall asleep like this, with toys in their mouths. At first we couldn't believe Gunnar was asleep like this. Then, the "mommy" kicked in and I thought: what if he's choking on it, or what if he really did ingest another Advil that he'd found on the floor? Geez!

Then he sighed really big and continued to sleep with Talon's red toy in his mouth...at the moment, he is watching the Packer game with Mr. H, waiting for our delivery pizza to get here. Ruff. Very ruff life.