[Hamoth]

I got chewy from a breeder. I am trying to find out if they are reputable or not. By turns I discover great things about their advice and bad things. I'm not sure if she was an aswesome breeder who was realy fair with me or an evil meanie trying to get rid of a dog she saw as "defective".

I suppose, like most everything else, it's somewhere in that big gaping ol' middle.

We got Chewy for free. Here's the full text of my tale of puppy love and how I found it in a Yorkie.

For the last few years, my girl (practically and often called wife) and I have been arguing over getting a dog. Now I know my Jenny...She's not the most responcible person on earth, and frankly, when the going get's tough, I jump to the task before she does. It's not to say that she's lazy, or that she doesn't care...it's just that I've had more dire times, so to speak, and that makes me more prone to act on things first and with the least complaint...

the thought of being so wholely responcible for another leaving thing so sentient as a dog scared the crap out of me. I've had a vascectomy to avoid such responcibility. I've got more than my share of issues from that "dire circumstance" in which I grew to maturity. Some might even say that I'm mentally ill. Hell, I might even reckon in their numbers.

So it's the third year in a row that I'm totally stumped for what to give her for her birthday. Last year, the business was good enough that I could afford a nice entertainment center. This year, money aint so good...and I can think of are two conversations we last had. One is an argument about why I don't want to get a dog. She buys my Dad's sorry tale about me not being able to commit to responcibility for a dog since he shot my first dog for having fleas.

Maybe that's true. I never protected Lady from my horrible old family that killed her for daring to trust me. How could I possibly take responcibility for another living creature again? Maybe that's it...or maybe I just like being 20-something and going to bars at night without responcibility. I kinda lean toward the latter.

Hell, it's year #3 and I have no idea what I'm going to get Jenny. She keeps going on about a dog she saw. "Little black bears! Oh my GOD they are soooo cute!". It's a breed called a Schipperke. I look em up briefly online. They seem small. Good since I don't see a house in the realistic future. They look o.k. enough. I'll get her a dog. She SWEARS that it won't become "my dog" and therefore "my problem".

Awesome. I'm a really good boyfirend. I'll get her the puppy she wants. But instead of buying a puppy and adding a bow to it, I'll play it smart and let her pick the dog. Instead, I buy a puppy bead, a leash, puppies for dummies, and print out an add from an online broker advertising some Schipperke pups for sale.

She loved it.

Months passed.

I start prodding, just to let her (and her ever vigilant girl-friends) know that I was serious and not jsut trying to cop-out of a real b-day present. "You know, it's been a few months...do you still want a dog?", Of course she does. She just didn't follow up on that ad. The pups from that litter are all gone now. She is interested al lover again "Oh why didn't I get them?" She wonders. I look up Schipperke rescues. We find a litter in our area, we apply...then this: "Before submitting you information, you shoudl know htat having a Schipperke is like having a two year old for the rest of your life. They are highly energetic, even frantic, manic, barky little dogs that have endless energy and will chew, mouth, bite, bark at, and destroy anything in sight. Seriously, these dogs choke on rocks and die out of sheer boredom. Remember that part in the matrix where Neo is going so fast that he can see bullets going by? That's based on a Schipperke. Seriously." At least, that's how I remember the disclaimer.

Our cursor hovered, hesitated, and stopped. We knew that a Schipperke was not the best dog for us. FINALLY Jenny cracked open the ol' Puppies for Dummies book and had a good-long read. All the recomended dogs sounded crappy. Great.

We then begain looking at the petfinder website....We scanned for rescure dogs of our favorite breeds. Sadly every time we saw someone we liked they all said the same death-qualification: Must have fenced yard. We are and were apartment dwellers.

I aksed around, and that turned out to be our path to salvation. One night I was pretty drunk. I saw a neighbor firend of mine walking by outside and stepped out onto the porch for a smoke.

"hey buddy."
"hi."
"Know anyone who's trying to get rid of a dog? We're looking for a puppy..."

Those fated words.

"Uh...Are you serious?" he asked, his face marked with incredulity I hadn't before encoutnered.

"Yeah, everyone expects a yard...we can't seem to rescue anything, even the pound turned us down for being apartment dwellers."
"Bulls**t." he spat some tobacco onto the sidewalk...O.k, he didn't, but he should have. It would have been really fitting given his tone.

"This lady-firend of mine is a breeder and she breeds Yorkshire Terriers. she has this one that she can't sell. Yeah, she can't sell his littermates as long as people see him around. She wants to give him away but nobody will take him. Are you serious about this?"

I had no idea what a Yorkshire Terrier was. I stuck my head inside...

"Hey Jenny, this guy says he has a Yorkshire Pudding or something, or a firend of his, *hic* or something...Sounds like a dog."

"Oh, those are great!" She tells me.

I look back to this salt-o'-the-earth type guy offering me a Yorkie pup. "Yeah man, she's hyped. What do we do?"

"What are you doing Monday?" he asks me. It's currently Tuesday, and the 20-something life has me in it's thralls. Monday is quite distant from my perspective.

"Nothing at all! Why?"

"You can meet the breeder then. she's coming over to my place and I can have her stop over and see if you are right for the dog..."

Sounds great!