It was wet and wild Easter that inspired the addition of Thelma Louise to our family. The kids and I were stuck inside as the wind and rain lashed at Bohemia, our little Daylesford shack. A trip to library proved invaluable as we returned with "A Guide to the Hundred Best Dogs" and the diversion therapy continued. The local paper informed us that there was Pomeranian puppies to be had. Pomeranians, come on I was a kelpie x collie type of lad. We looked up P for Pomeranian and what did we see? A total fuzz ball full of fun. I said to Jack and Lily "that dog could make me laugh every day". Never was I more right.

Not Thelma Louise but very much like her father

We bundled into the car and drove to a dilapidated farm on the edge of town. As we pulled in a cacophony of yapping emanated from the closest shed. There in a cage looking like an escapee from One Flew over the Cuckoos Nest, was Thelma's father. The frenzy of yapping was ricocheting off the tin shed like a Gatling Gun. The kids leapt from the car, I was slower, as being of the highly sensitive type, the assault on my ears had rendered me immobile. I found my voice. " Kids get back in the car..... For god sake get back in the car ". My panic increased as the old dear ambled down the steps towards us. I gave one last frenzied command " kids get back in the car, we are not getting one of those!" They leant in the window and calmly pointed out that as the dear old lady was approaching the car it would be very poor manners to burn out of there as if we were attempting to escape Armageddon. My children always attempted to bring me up well.

Reluctantly I climbed out of the car and introduced myself to the lady of the manor who went by the name of Thelma. Passively, I followed her and the kids inside. There on the kitchen floor next to the Rayburn wood stove, was a sprawling mass of cuteness. My resolution waivers. Is one of these balls of fur and fun soon to become another member of our family? But I must not forget her father, surely it was a dog of demonic parentage. I studied the mother, a pretty smooth coated calm dog, wagging her tail and smiling at us, as proud mothers do. Maybe there was a chance I was wrong? I thought Lily would pick up a puppy, but as always she surprised me and picked up the mother. No snapping, no growling just a happy little dog sitting on a happy little girls knee.

The battle was lost. Jack and I separated a black pointed, golden panda like puppy from her brood of siblings. Our hearts melted. Lily put down the mother and embraced our new family member. Thelma pocketed the cash and we made the dash, with puppy wrapped in Lily's arms.

Home we went. But what to call our new little bundle? I thought Thelma in honour of her human mum but Lily was very keen on naming her Louise. The solution was glaringly obvious, such a little dog needed a monumental name. Thelma Louise was duly christened. If ever a dog has lived up to her name TL has, she loves a road trip, has little regard for figures of authority and once attempted to drive my car off a cliff, but that is a whole other story ( requests can be directed to petegoodlet@gmail.com :)

I have never regretted the day that Thelma Louise became a Goodlet and true to my prediction she has made me laugh every single day and added much love and hilarity to our lives.