Brooklyn 99 Litter

Rosa is a good girl with real engine—forward, confident, and a little demanding in the way honesty sounds when a pup knows what she wants. None of that is a moral failing; it is information for whoever signs on next.

What she needs now is more socialization than she is getting from a once-a-week public rhythm. Weekly outings are not nothing, but they are not enough reps for a dog this awake to the world. She needs mileage, variety, and calm guidance while her picture of “normal” is still forming.

She will land best with a handler who already knows how to read drive and set boundaries without crushing spirit. If she is left unmanaged as she matures, I can see protective behavior trying to become a substitute for clarity—not because she is bad, but because she is wired hot. She is not a beginner’s first service prospect.

Amy is the next-best female in this litter right now—big-boned, outgoing, and the kind of steady that makes you exhale when you did not realize you were holding your breath.

Her crate work is already something to brag about: she settles in like the walls are a kindness, almost as if she prefers the den even at eight weeks. That is not coldness; it is self-regulation showing up early.

She still carries the thread I have watched since the beginning—curious, people-forward, first on the scene with Charles for anything new—while listening when I say no and answering her name more often than not. For the right handler, she remains a strong mobility prospect in my book.

Gina is rock solid. Man, this girl is amazing—the smartest and sweetest puppy in the litter, and I do not say that lightly when I have six sharp little judges staring back at me.

She loves the cats. She loves people she has never met. She is the most forward female I have on the ground right now—curious without being careless, awake without being cruel.

She still carries her early brilliance—she hit milestones first when she was tiny—but the read has matured into something cleaner: a dog who can think, connect, and soften in the same breath. For the right working home, she belongs in the conversation as a serious service prospect.

Jake is an amazing dog. He is also dominant in a way that would be unsafe in inexperienced hands—so I am going to say the quiet part loud: if he leaves me, the only fair door is a former military working-dog handler or someone with extensive, real-world dog experience. Not a weekend seminar resume. Depth.

He might still stay here. I am open to that unless the perfect home shows up—because perfect, for him, is not about money or a pretty story. It is about someone who already knows how to carry authority without turning it into fear.

He has size, nerve, and public courage when the training lines up—Lowe’s proved that in ink—but dominance without mentorship becomes liability. I love him enough to hold that line.

Charles is my chunky monkey—insane food drive in the best working-dog way, first to dive into a crate when food is the promise, then asleep while his siblings scream the roof off around him. He handles life in stride. A true pro.

He may not finish as the tallest dog in the bunch, but he is meaty, and I expect him to carry real substance once he is done growing—enough frame that weight-bearing tasks remain on the table after maturity if his structure keeps tracking the way it looks now.

He had a tiny bit of trouble briefly—nothing that rewrites who he is—and he bounced back fast. By far, right now, he is a rocking candidate for service work. He will make an excellent service dog for the right person: steady stomach for chaos, heart for the work, and a sense of humor about being underestimated.

Terry is my pick—and I am keeping him. That is not a contest announcement; it is a decision I made with my whole chest after watching him meet the world the way a partner meets a doorway: steady feet, honest eyes, and a willingness to come back when I call even when something else looks interesting.

He earned it in the small things first—best on gruel when life got hard, first real tug on a toy, one of the two who stayed with me on a walk when everyone else sprinted for what felt safe. Then he kept earning it in the bigger picture: bone, food drive, toy drive, and those big rear feet that remind me of my old Great Dane puppies in the best way.

He still plays briefly with James (my Maine Coon) during TV time, then curls in beside me to sleep like the day was exactly enough. He is not going anywhere. He is mine.