Day twenty

I've thought about writing about or dog Chewy before, but I've had difficulties in adding photos to the blog. If you came here from Facebook, there's photos of him there. If not, Chewy is a black and white long-haired Chihuahua. All that to say, Google+ photo albums are worthless.

We have had Chewy since Christmas week, 2011. My sister Olivia was out with her friend, and she found him wandering in the parking lot of our local Carl's Jr. When she brought him home, we looked him over and realized a few things: he was hungry but not starving, he wasn't really dirty, and he was used to being handled. Clearly, he belonged to somebody.



My sisters originally didn't want to give him back, reasoning that whoever he belonged to should've taken better care for him not to get loose. I argued that if either of our dogs wandered off, we would want someone to at least try to bring them back. We printed out a bunch of posters with a very clear discription of what he looked like, and put them in the general area where my sister found Chewy. And we waited.

No one ever contacted us. Someone even took down the posters we put up. I have no idea who did it.

It didn't take very long for me to come to the conclusion that whomever Chewy had belonged, they let him go. I have never had a dog so poorly behaved. He barks until you shower him with attention, steals treats from both of our other dogs, intimidates poor Buddy (who is part pit bull), and will destroy just about anything he can get his teeth around. That's how he got the name.

He's also got that little dog bravado that makes him think he's a big dog. Ever since we returned of border collie Sadie to her previous owners, Chewy has been trying to assert himself as the alpha male of the group. The worst part is that he may actually succeed, what with high-strung & needy Herbie and poor sweet-natured Buddy, both of whom are larger than Chewy.

So if Chewy's so bad, why do we keep him? Honestly, he can't afford to turned out of another house. He'd never make it on the steers; he's been too coddled. And, however reluctantly I admit this, we'd miss him. He has made a place for himself in this family. He's a dog we've all come to tolerate. Maybe even love him.