Millie’s Pawsport

About Millie

Hey friends! Big news from yours truly: I am OFFICIALLY healed from my TPLO surgery and lump removal. The vet gave me the all-clear and I gave her a big sloppy kiss she did not ask for. Point is, I'm ready to find my forever family! Let me re-introduce myself. I'm a dark chocolate half boxer (mom was gorgeous brindle), half lab (dad was a stud muffin), and 100% perfect. I know, I know - every dog says that. But I actually mean it! I've got the boxer spirit and the lab love of food. Speaking of food - oh my gosh, FOOD. And WATER. I get excited about water like it's brand new every single time. Never gets old. I'm 7 years young and I love visitors. LOVE them. I will jump up to say "hi" because how else will you know I'm thrilled to see you? My knees had a whole surgical saga this spring but honestly that has not slowed down my greeting game one bit. Recently, I decided to learn to jump on the door out of excitement - my foster mom doesn't love that. Whatevs. I was recently cleared for playtime and running, which - let's be real - for me means one dramatic sprint across the yard and then a nap. I'm not a zoomies kind of girl. I have dignity. I will, however, box with my foster brother because someone has to keep him humble. I also try to snuggle him on the bed but he's not into it. His loss! He eventually gets up and leaves and then I get the whole dog bed to myself. Honestly? Worked out great. Strategic cuddling. Although, now that the weather is cooling down, he's sticking his ground on the bed. I will HAPPILY sleep with you or be your couch co-pilot. Walks? Love 'em. But fair warning, I've spent most of my years exercising in a yard so leash manners are... a work in progress. The dog walker says my skills are improving at a rapid rate! I'm house-trained and I will let you know when I need out by whining, barking, or doing a little hop in place. It's very cute. Sometimes I'm just asking for food though. You'll figure it out. I'm about as subtle as a battle cannon when I want something. I get crated when my foster mom leaves because I like to jump on furniture to window-watch and she worries about my knee. She said the surgery was "expensive" - I don't know what money is but she seemed stressed about it. I chill in my crate when she needs to go out and spend money (rude), and honestly? I'm often found lounging in it with the door wide open for no reason other than I simply love my tiny condo. It's called real estate, look it up...I'm a mogul with my condo. Look, I used to be a bit of a diva about sharing the spotlight with my foster brother. Note, he's no angel either. We had a whole reality TV rivalry going on. But we've since signed a peace treaty and things are totally chill now. I do, however, have some food aggression - so I eat in my crate like a fancy lady at her private dining table. My foster mom keeps an eye on us when we're chewing on bones to prevent any spicy side-eye action, even though we've never actually fought over toys or treats. We're dramatic, not dangerous. One last thing: I'm not always the best listener, especially outside. There are SMELLS out there and I must explore, people. My stubborn boxer side kicks in and suddenly I am simply not available for comment. But I'm worth it. I'm super loveable and happy. Just call me "sunshine on a stick". Trust me!