my parents, ever the rescue enthusiests, have proceeded to take in an eight month old white timberwolf. at one hundred pounds (and thirty pounds underweight, as the vet so matter-of-factly informed my parents), she towers over my little love of a dog, Nani, who has successfully reigned over all quadrapeds in our house for 6 years, despite her mere weight of only 12 pounds, depending on whether or not she has eaten her daily diet of 20 kibbles. this new dog, completely unaware that she could squish my baby with one triangle shaped paw, believes that she is small enough to fit on the laps of many and runs around the house cowering in fear when faced with all men, heavy objects, fire, and loud noises. chains cause her to wet herself and at the sight of a newspaper, she forces her lanky body under the deck like an eastern european contortionist.

every member of my family have fallen in love with her. named powder (and appropriately so, as she is the former dog of a crack fiend), she is the third dog that my mother has now steadfastly refused to give up. she is also the third dog to be at least part, if not fully, wolf that will grow to be more than one hundred pounds.

that's more than three hundred pounds of dog in a house that wasn't fit for two cats and a stuffed mop.