Jaws...

Almost from the day we brought him home until, well, we forget when, Ozzie was a teething monster. Not that he ever destroyed any shoes, walls or furniture; he did, however, cause a few tears in a couple of bathrobes and our arms and hands would look as if we had been dragged through a patch of wild rose bushes.
We discovered very early on that the one thing that seemed to help was ice cubes; we should have invested in an ice making machine to keep up with him. Oz was crate trained as a pup and from the moment we opened the crate door, he would charge out, tail wagging jaw wide open exposing little razor-like teeth and we swear that his eyes rolled back in his head.
Jaws.

He always thought he was a lap dog...

Even when he was the enormous entity we affectionately dubbed, "The Pupster", any person's lap was a comfortable (for him) place to sit.

Here he is with Sheryl when he was about four months old -- just before he went through a huge growth spurt! We still wonder to this day how we ever got him to sit still enough for this photograph; he looks just like one of the many stuffed Berners we have around the house.

'Tis the season...

When he was almost a year old, we took Ozzie to a local PetSmart to have his photograph taken with Santa Claus. We were never too sure who was more uncertain of this - Oz or Santa himself!

December 19...

Today would have been Ozzie's 5th birthday.

I promised that this was not going to be specifically a memorial site for him, but a place where we could celebrate and talk about life and things that happen.

I also promised to show a picture of Ozzie when he was a little (it's all relative) pup.

So, without further ado, here he is on the day we met him at 5 weeks old. A little barrel of a boy.