Maile

Loose brown fur-skin draped over her floppy ears, the spindly youngling tests out the world with her teeth. Her razor-sharp, tiny teeth. "Ouch!" you yell in genuine frustration, only to melt like butter with one gaze from her perfectly innocent eyes - which happen to be the color of your favorite blue crayon. Her little white third eye rests like a crown jewel atop the chestnut hill of her snout and forehead, almost as if the great exterior designer wanted a tasteful accent to match her snowy oversize paws and tail-tip. Her attention span is as small as her bladder, both of which seem to release before you can blink. This newborn thing has flopped her way into your heart, and you didn't even fight it.