A post for my French bulldog Marshmellow

A post for my French bulldog Marshmellow

First we know that marshmallow is spelled with an A but the story of how this little guy got his name goes like this…My daughter and I picked him up at the breeder this little white bumpkin. As we were driving home, I was conversing with my older sister (notice how I put the older dig in their ?). I admitted to getting another dog. Silence fell on the other end of the phone until finally my sister says, “is it Mellow?”  My daughter and I simultaneously said marshmallow looking at this 1.7 lb baby in her lap. We used the E to keep him mellow so to say but Marshmellow is anything BUT mellow.

Marshy as we usually call him is a very bad dog. He eats everything. My vet is on speed dial. He is sneaky too. He does it when you forget or as soon as you leave the house. The garbage can was our first learning curve. We use to have to remember to move it to a counter before leaving the house because as soon as you left, Marshmellow was on it. We’d come home to find the garbage all over the floor. Once I just walked out front getting the mail, happened to be out of his sight for 30 seconds, 30 seconds which he thought I left, 30 seconds was all it took. I walked back in and there he was inside the garbage.  Menace that he is. Never again was garbage can on floor until I finally bought a garbage he couldn’t get into.

Don’t let the sweet face fool you. He ate a giant heart shaped box of valentine candy from my office desk. He figured out how to jump up to the chair, from the chair to the desk, get the box down, get the cellophane wrapper off and consume the entire box. He ate a huge clump of Wasabi from my sushi. Really how good could that have been? I called him Wasabi for a month. He somehow managed to unscrew a plastic container holding little ritz crackers. Came home found the container in the floor top off but not chewed or damaged and container completely empty??? I’m still wondering how Marshmellow Houdini did that one. My favorite is the ill idea of someone putting down a meatball sandwich for a second on the table and walking away. We’ll Marshmellow at lightning speed was able to grab half of that sandwich and run. In his haste a meatball dropped right in front of the face of his brother Boomer who was more than happy to consume it.  How the marinara got on Marshy’s back I can’t answer but he was stained until we bathed him. Marshmellow ala marinara was yet another name for him.

Hes been melly, smelly melly, melly bean, bean, smarshmellow, belly bean, baby boy, baby, but he will always be mine. He is the cutest most loyal dog. Very different than my English bulldog. The French definitely has more personality. He is usually right by my side. Follows me around like a shadow. He knows my car when I pull into the driveway and his adorable face appears in the window. He always grabs a shoe, preferably my shoe, when anyone comes into the house. He doesn’t chew it just prances around with it. He is honestly the sweetest boy and beyond the most lovable. He is my baby and not a day goes by that he’s not sleeping by my side. Like my Boomer, Marshy was one of the best purchases of my life. I love him more and more each day.

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