Please wait while onewalrus thinks of something, anything at all to blog...

 

...ok, I thought of something...

 

 

 

 

When he gives you that look, you can't help but love (and forgive) him.

We named him Chipper because Patrick's favorite baseball player is Chipper Jones of the Atlanta Braves. He was born on a farm, just like his parents, grandparents and great-grandparents.

 

We drove, the three of us (myself, Patrick and his friend Kyrie) 150 miles out of town onto the humid plains of Colorado farm country to claim our pick of the litter. Chippers sister was the runt. All of us felt bad to leave her alone, but that's the down-side of a "dog's life".

 

Here at home he adjusted to things (stopped crying for mom and sister) quickly. There is a six-foot fence enclosing my backyard so I started out by letting him have his run of the yard. Amazingly, within a week he had learned how to jump the fence. Here was this little dog, probably stood twelve-inches who would take one heavily contemplated leap, perch upon the half-inch wide top of the fence pickets, pause for composure and leap over to the other side to fence-less freedom.

For the first three months I would get a call on my cell-phone every day. The conversation would usually go something like this:

caller: Hi, Do you own a beagle named Chipper?                                

me: Yes

caller: Well, he's here at my house... I tied him up in the yard.

me: Did you use a metal leash?

caller: No, why?

me: Because if you haven't checked on him in over a minute, he has already chewed through the leash, jumped the fence and is gone now.

caller: Lemme see... OMG, I'm sorry... he is gone... he chewed through the leash.

 

Sometimes the calls would be from one of the stores around here. Once out of the yard he would follow anybody anywhere, into stores and homes. One day a neighbor awoke from a nap to find him sleeping on her floor. I think he has been in every home and store in my neighborhood. But after one short-term (1 day) sentence in the confines of the county Humane Society, I and everyone else had enough.

 

Following several months of rigorous training he now understands the limits of his freedom and doesn't wander far. He protects his territory, but the "I have your dog" calls don't occur any more.

 

Chipper has been both the greatest companion and the biggest pain in the ass for three and a half years now. He's a superb fetcher with ball and stick returning every time... or until he smells a cat or squirrel. I don't know what he would do if he ever caught either. But since he never does he practices those skills on enything he can get his mouth on around the house. I mean everything. The list is so long of things he has chewed up. The most annoying are clothes. If you leave any article of clothing which has come into contact with your ass laying around, he will chew the ass out of it. Many robes, pants and underwear have been consumed.

 

Not a day goes by that he doesn't do something to piss me off. but...

...when he gives you that look, you can't help but love (and forgive) him.

 

 

Pablo

©2006