Last week my husband was at a state park and found a stray puppy. Nobody would claim the poor thing, and the park didn't want to pay the $75 fee to take the dog to the humane shelter. The only option left was to call the sheriff and have the dog shot. So what did my husband do? He called me and told me about it, knowing I would feel the need to save the cute little guy. Of course I told my husband to bring the dog home. When I first saw this puppy, I quickly came up with a suitable name for him. Try saying chip-chip-chip really fast in a high pitched voice and you'll get an idea of the sound he was making. I suggested we name the puppy Chip, and my husband approved. Tucker was excited to see Chip; they've become playmates.
Having a puppy in the house has required a few changes. Tucker is nine, doesn't eat much, and typically goes outside only three or four times a day. My husband and I are used to this. What we aren't used to is putting a puppy outside every couple hours, watching said puppy devour food like crazy, and following the puppy around the house to make sure he doesn't potty on the floors. So far, he's only had a few accidents. One was last night when he decided to stand a few feet behind me and let loose on the living room carpet.
For the most part, Chip has been pretty good. He hasn't chewed up anything, but my husband did find him standing on our coffee table a couple days ago. And this morning, after I set my bowl of cereal down on the table, he decided to lift his front paws to the table and help himself to my milk. I quickly let him know that kind of behavior is not allowed in our house.
I almost hate to yell at him because he's a bit skittish. Whoever had him before must have abused him. He's not very old, though. My husband and I guess he's about six or seven months old. And he's a mutt with a lot of German Shepard mixed in. He's so dang cute, too. I'm not sure why I even bothered telling my husband we could only keep the dog until we found a home for him.
Welcome home, Chip!