About
Don’t let the fur fool you. With the poise of a princess and the manners of someone who’s absolutely convinced she belongs on a throne—preferably velvet-lined. Her body language is as proper as afternoon tea, every step measured, every glance dignified. She likely believes her ancestors weren’t sled dogs, but royalty. Not just any royalty, mind you—probably a snow queen and an entourage of squirrels trained in etiquette who traveled by golden chariot pulled by peasants.   Every move Bonnie makes is ladylike. She walks like she's gliding down a red carpet, tail delicately curled like she’s at a royal ball. Her ears perk with purpose, her paws place themselves with precision, and if she could wear pearls, she absolutely would—right over her collar. But don’t let her delicate diva act fool you—Bonnie’s got brains and zoomies. She’s sharp as a whistle and faster than your Wi-Fi during a thunderstorm. She doesn’t just run—she leaps, bounding across the grass with the elegance of a deer chasing a dream. Her legs stretch long and smooth, and for a moment, it’s like she’s not touching the ground at all—just floating from one patch of earth to the next with royal poise and zero concern for gravity.