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10/24/2026

Great description of the Min Pin!

10/23/2026

Goose, Belle, Diva and Beth say “Good Morning America!”

10/21/2026

Got this off of the Canine Construction & Confirmation site

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Imagine your dog to be like an SUV with independent four-wheel suspension. Well-tuned and properly running it is a pleasure to drive all day long. Now, imagine riding in that same car with no springs or worn out shock absorbers.

The joints in the forelegs from the shoulder to the carpus (wrist) and feet are also a part of the suspension system of the dog and if they are out of alignment or poorly tuned, the dog will tire easily.

The dog’s front assembly begins with the top of the shoulder blade which is called the withers. The front assembly includes the forearm, front legs, pasterns and feet. This series of bones are important because the front assembly carries sixty percent of the dog’s body weight and is only attached to the body by muscles, tendons and ligaments.

When standing still the front legs should appear as two straight columns of support from the shoulder to the ground.

This does not mean perpendicular, but a straight line from the shoulder to the feet.

Let us examine some common fronts.

Bowed or bandy fronts is where the forearm when seen from the front, curves outwards from the elbows then inwards to the wrists. Such as anatomical construction is generally considered faulty, except in breeds such as Pekingese and Tibetan Spaniel.

Cabriole front is when the front assembly when viewed front on resembles a kind of curved leg characteristic of Chippendale and Queen Anne furniture. The elbows are wide apart, forearms sloping in toward the centre line with the pasterns and feet turning out.

Crooked fronts are referred to in breeds such as Basset Hounds and Dachshunds where when viewed front on the forearms incline symmetrically inwards and slight curved from the elbow to the wrist. The crook provides a firm support for the keel.

East west front or toeing out, is when the dog’s front feet and toes point outward while standing and/or moving. Normally associated with a narrow front where incorrectly positioned pasterns cause the feet to turn outwards and away from the centre line.

Horseshoe front is straight forearms, but further apart at the elbows than the wrists, inclining inwards with pasterns perpendicular to the front. Typical front of a Bedlington and normal for the breed.

Narrow front when seen front on, standing closer than desired and in Working, Herding and Gundog breeds would be considered a fault as it would indicate incorrect rib cage shape and would limit heart and lung capacity therefore reduced working ability. It is however, relatively normal for breeds such as Borzois and Irish Setters due to shape of their ribcage.

Pigeon toed is when the pasterns and feet turn inwards toward the centre line. The opposite of ‘east west’ front.

Finally, the straight front which is correct for most breeds, in particular Herding, Working and Gundog breeds. When viewed from the front the forelegs run perpendicular to the ground as well as parallel to each other. Must be straight from elbows to wrist to pastern to feet.

Take a look at the graphics. Can you name each type of front from left to right

10/13/2026

The Best Way to Approach a Breeder

If you’re interested in purchasing a puppy from a reputable breeder, the first step is simple: introduce yourself and ask about their process for placing puppies in homes.

The endless messages that simply say “How much?” are becoming overwhelming. No greeting, no introduction, no question mark, and no effort to look at the breeder’s profile or website to learn about their dogs, program, or practices.

Breeders receive countless inquiries from people who appear to be casually shopping around without any real intention of moving forward. Over time, many breeders become less likely to respond to these types of messages because they simply don’t have the time to answer every low-effort inquiry.

And when someone doesn’t receive a response, they may turn around and criticize the breeder, saying, “I couldn’t even get a response from them!”

Here’s the thing: first impressions matter. Breeders are investing their time, knowledge, money, and heart into producing healthy, well-bred puppies. They care deeply about where their puppies end up and want to find the right homes for them.

Take a few minutes to introduce yourself, express genuine interest, and ask thoughtful questions. Read the information the breeder has already provided, and approach the conversation with courtesy and respect.

Think of it more like a job interview than ordering a Big Mac at a drive-through. You’re not just purchasing a product; you’re building a relationship with someone who has devoted themselves to their dogs and their future.

A little courtesy goes a long way. You may be surprised at how much more receptive a breeder is when you approach them with genuine interest and good manners.

10/07/2026

Rumor has been acquired by Paul & Betty Fisher who are also the owners of Babe! Rumor and Babe are reunited!

Wishing that Rumor will give you many years of happiness!!!

10/02/2026

Got this off of the Chinese Crested-Evercrest Kennels site. A good read!

Linebreeding: Let’s get into it.

I think of linebreeding like weaving stitches in and out of a piece of fabric. You’re carrying certain threads through the generations because you like the pattern they make. The trick is knowing what’s attached to those threads before you pull them through again.

Say you have a dog that consistently produced the temperament, structure, movement, and look you want in your line. You might bring that dog’s influence back into a future breeding. But first, you’d better do more than admire its win picture and say, “Lord, wasn’t he pretty.”

What did his siblings produce? What did his puppies look like as adults? Were they sound? Were they healthy? Was the lovely temperament passed on, or did one branch of that family act like they needed their own bail bondsman?

You have to look at the whole family. Linebreeding can make the good traits more consistent, but it can bring the faults along for the ride too. Genetics does not take requests.

And every so many generations, I’ll look at bringing in an outcross. Now, I don’t keep a calendar that says, “Well, it’s been three generations. Time to fetch a stranger.” 😂 I look at what my dogs are producing and what the line needs.

Maybe I need to improve something. Maybe the dogs are getting too closely related. Maybe there’s a dog from another line with qualities that would fit beautifully with mine. That’s when I look outside my own family of dogs.

But an outcross isn’t just any dog with a different kennel name slapped on the pedigree. I want to know the dog, its relatives, what it produces, and what’s hiding farther back in that pedigree. Both dogs need their breed appropriate health testing. I want the health history too, because “he’s never been sick a day in his life” tells me very little about his brothers, sisters, and puppies.

Then comes the part you can’t do on paper: watching the litter grow up. Did that breeding give you what you hoped for? Did it bring in something you didn’t bargain for? Would you make that same choice again?

That’s how you learn to weave your line. You carry forward what’s worth keeping, bring in something useful when you need it, and pay attention when a stitch starts pulling the wrong way.

Because if you keep sewing over a hole and calling it a design feature, honey, eventually everybody can see your drawers. 😂

How do you decide when it’s time to bring an outcross into your line?

© Letha Anne / EverCrest

09/15/2026

SO TRUE!!!😆

WHEN YOUR FRIEND IS IN THE RING…

Because apparently I cannot just sit there and behave like somebody with home training.

Friend: “Will you watch me?”

Me: “Absolutely!”

Because apparently, “absolutely” is dog-show language for “I’m about to handle you, your dog, and possibly the judge from outside the ring.”

The moment she enters, I become an unpaid assistant handler, movement coach, ringside prophet, and licensed interpreter of every eyebrow the judge raises.

Judge: “Take them around, please.”

Me from ringside, whisper-yelling: “SLOW DOWN! LET HIM SETTLE!”

I’m leaning so hard to the left, you’d think I could steer her with my body.

She turns toward the judge.

I sit up straighter.

She stacks the front too wide.

Now I’m squeezing my knees together and silently mouthing:

“FIX. THAT. FOOT.”

She doesn’t see me.

So naturally, I begin demonstrating.

From my chair.

With my own feet.

Like she’s going to glance outside the ring, study my lower body, and suddenly understand the emergency.

Person beside me: “Are you okay?”

Me: “No. His left rear is in Tennessee.”

The judge asks for the down and back.

I lean forward.

She takes off too fast.

I start patting the air like I’m trying to land a small aircraft.

Me: “Easy…easy…EASY…”

She’s not looking at me.

The dog’s not looking at me.

The judge is definitely looking at me.

But at this point, I’m committed.

She comes back and nearly walks straight into the judge’s leg.

I gasp so loudly the steward starts looking for an AED.

Friend’s husband: “Can she even hear you?”

Me: “Not with her ears—but hopefully with her spirit.”

Then comes the free stack.

This is where I completely lose whatever dignity I carried into the building.

I’m crouched beside the ring, tilting my head, lifting my chin, pointing toward the ceiling, and silently begging:

“EARS! GET THE EARS!”

The dog looks directly at me.

Finally—someone inside that ring recognizes the real professional.

He perks up beautifully.

My friend looks over, sees me folded sideways like a woman trying to dodge a collection plate, and gives me the look.

You know the one.

The one that says:

“If you don’t sit your unhinged behind down, I’m going to beat you with this lucky lead.”

Then the judge points.

She wins.

I jump up screaming like I personally gaited that dog, held the lead, paid the entry fee, and corrected that left rear from twenty feet away using nothing but prayer and aggressive body language.

My friend comes out of the ring.

Me: “See? I told you we had it!”

Friend: “You nearly fell over three chairs.”

Me: “And yet…we won.”

That’s friendship in the dog-show world.

One person handles the dog.

The other performs a full-body exorcism from ringside.

And yes, I am notorious for this.

If you ask me to watch you show, understand that I will not be merely watching.

I will be handling you telepathically—and throwing my back out doing it.

© 2026 Letha Anne | EverCrest Kennels

09/11/2026

Here’s another one! So true!!!

09/11/2026

Got this off the Chinese Crested page. It’s so true! Love it!!!

“At Least It’s Not Drugs” — The Official Dog-Show Budget Plan

I paid $35 to enter a dog show so a stranger could look at my dog for fourteen seconds and point at somebody else.

“At least it’s not drugs,” I whispered.

Then I spent $150 on a hotel room where I slept six inches from a crate while somebody’s Poodle screamed down the hallway like it had witnessed a murder.

“At least it’s not drugs.”

I bought a seventy-dollar show lead thin enough to floss my teeth with because it had prettier beads than the other six I already own.

“At least it’s not drugs.”

I spent $100 on gas, $20 to park and $14 on a hamburger with the texture of a flip-flop.

“At least it’s not drugs.”

By 7:00 a.m., I had dog hair in my bra, liver bait in every pocket and a check-engine light glowing brighter than the Star of Bethlehem.

“That’s not a warning light anymore, honey. That’s mood lighting.”

At least it’s not drugs.

I spent three hours brushing, trimming and preparing my dog. I begged him to stand still, walk nicely and remember that he does, in fact, have legs.

He entered the ring and moved like a shopping cart with one bad wheel.

“At least it’s not drugs.”

The judge looked him over, walked down the line and pointed at somebody else.

I smiled.

I clapped.

I said, “Congratulations!”

Because apparently asking, “Honey, did you leave your glasses in the car?” is considered poor sportsmanship.

At least it’s not drugs.

Then someone said there might be a major next weekend.

I entered three dogs before they finished the sentence.

“At least it’s not drugs.”

The major broke while I was pulling into the parking lot.

“At least it’s not drugs.”

My dog went Reserve and strutted back to the setup like he had personally won Westminster.

“At least it’s not drugs.”

By Sunday afternoon, I was rocking gently in a folding chair, eating stale crackers and calculating whether a person truly needs both kidneys.

“At least it’s not drugs.”

Then I saw a promising puppy.

I don’t need another puppy.

I have no room for another puppy.

I cannot afford another puppy.

“What’s her pedigree?”

AT LEAST IT’S NOT DRUGS!

Truthfully, dog shows are wonderful, clean fun. You travel, meet great people and make memories with your dogs.

It’s just unfortunate that every one of those memories costs $35 to enter, $150 to sleep near and a full tank of gas to reach.

But I don’t have a problem.

I can quit anytime I want.

Right after this next major.

And maybe one more puppy.

And that seventy-dollar lead with the pretty beads.

Listen—I don’t need an intervention.

I need someone to help load the crates.

At least it’s not drugs…

Although, at this point, drugs might have a better rewards program. 😂

09/10/2026

This gorgeous little Min Pin is looking for her forever home. Her name is Rumor. She is 5 years old and in excellent health. Loves everyone!

Serious inquiries PM me.

Address

Tucson, AZ
85749

Telephone

+15203498244

Website

https://www.rehpinminpin.com/

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