Followers of the Facebook page have already seen this but I’ll post it here as well for anyone else who only follows the blog – and I don’t blame you for not doing the Facebook thing, it is sometimes very spooky and insidious.

On Friday Mrs B and I drove an hour up to Dartmoor and came back with this little white fluffball.
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We have named her Gwynnik, which is a Cornish language word meaning ‘little white one’. Her mother is – mostly – a broken coated Jack Russell terrier. Apparently a Yorkshire terrier might have been hanging around her mother looking mighty satisfied a few years earlier.  Her father is a Chinese Crested Powder Puff .

Yep, that’s what I thought, never heard of it, what the heck is one of those? The standard Chinese Crested is a small ‘toy’ dog, a mostly naked hairless thing with some fur just on its head, ‘socks’ and tail. I must admit that this was not very appealing to me when I looked it up on Wikipedia, but the breed otherwise had positive looking characteristics.

Luckily the Chinese Crested Powder Puff is the full, properly fur-coated version; a mother can have a mixture of the hairless and Powder Puff pups in the same litter regardless of which variety she might be herself. How a hairless variety could be attractive enough to have any sort of suitor is beyond me but there again, I’m not a dog.  There is no likelihood either, with her having safely arrived as a proper dog,  of waking up one morning to find a big pile of white hair and a suddenly naked dog barking enthusiastically at me.

Anyway, when asked what sort of breed she is, we have come up with the word ‘Russellpuff’, which seems to tick the boxes of both being accurate and somehow sounding slightly funny.

Russellpuff is not unique though apparently. I googled it while writing this – which constitutes ‘in-depth research’ for me – and found somebody selling pups with Russellpuff as their description. (Next on the drop-down auto-complete search listing was an entry for a man called Russell Bufalino, a Mafia boss in America from the 1960’s. Handy hint, don’t start googling odd words if you have any sort of inquisitive or procrastinating nature, I’m back writing this now after an extra hour reading about the 1960’s New York and Pennsylvania Mafia.)

Boxing Day will be the two year anniversary of us having to put Thomas, our beloved fourteen year old Lakeland terrier, to sleep. We didn’t really want to be without a dog for this long afterwards but decided then, as we were looking to move in the coming year, that we didn’t want to get a small young dog used to its surroundings and then find we were uprooting it suddenly. We’ve waited until we are settled in, which I think we are now. We’ve certainly got past the novelty of randomly walking fully around the outside of the detached house just because we can now.

Anyway, four weeks or so of vaccinations to go before I can start taking her out with me. Hopefully she will have the inexhaustible characteristics of the Jack Russell part of her breeding and enjoy a good long ramble but have some patience with me constantly stopping to take pictures, unlike Mrs B.

The sharp-eyed will spot that I’ve already created a new blog category for her, so there’s a very good chance that Gwynnik will make an appearance or two here in the future.

 

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3 thoughts on “Not a Christmas gift

    1. That struck me too, I image searched Tin Tin and Snowy before we fetched her actually. Although my dog looks like Snowy I refuse to wear trousers that are four inches too short and dye my hair orange to look like Tin Tin though.

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