One thing about her is certain. She is crazy. As I type right now she is pacing up and down our hallway, her nails clacking on the hardwood, in hopes that someone might take it upon themselves to play with her.
Don't let this charming face fool you, while she does have her cute and cuddly moments. She also has, what I like to call, her "crazy face."
It's a look she gets right before she loses it complete control of her energy and can't be stopped.
It obviously started at an early age, too.
Even as I write this my mom is yelling at Maica, "Don't you bark at me!"
She's crazy, I tell you.
So crazy, in fact, that our last dogsitter asked us if we gave her cocaine. It would explain a lot.