This is Tiny Bear. He's just a slightly big dog. So big, in fact, that wherever we take him, people literally slow down in their cars to look at him. I had one guy actually lean out the window of his car and say, "That's a big (expletive here) dog!"
Tiny Bear came to us when I was pregnant with my daughter. He was a rambuctious puppy. His mother was a St. Bernard, his father a mixture between wolf (yes, wolf!) and malamute. So he was never really, well, tiny.
This picture above is him at about six months. And he wasn't done growing! He just kept growing and growing, his paws getting bigger and bigger, until they resembled lion paws. The wolf comes out in him only when there are sirens blaring or when he's feeling rather melancholy. Then he'll howl. And it's a long, mournful howl. But he is a beautiful dog, full of spirit and love.
He is, however, a bit of a wuss. When we have thunder storms, he barges his way into the house, runs downstairs, and cowers. Yes, cowers. He does the same thing during the 4th of July. He hates loud noises. So tomorrow night, I'm sure he'll be hiding in some corner of the basement.
But we love 'em anyway.