A lot of love in a little package

Dear Prue,

Two and a half years ago, we decided to get another dog. Kaylee was a few months old and so emotionally needy that we wanted another dog to take some of her attention off of us and onto her new sibling. Come to find out, a tennis ball is pretty much all we needed to give her to keep her entertained for hours, sometimes just staring at the ball, willing it to fly from her so she could go retrieve it again and again and again.

Anyway, I checked Craigslist because surely there was someone giving away free dogs somewhere around Atlanta. And there was! Your mom was a full bred English black lab, calm and well-mannered, and her owners did not have a clue what you father was. But that was okay! We saw you and immediately fell in love with your inquisitiveness and also with how you immediately took to Kaylee and she to you. We brought you home and thought, having two dogs will make everything so much easier! Boy, were we WRONG.

Throughout the two and a half years we have had you around, you have chewed through the drywall in your dog pen, in the hallway, and you started on the foyer but I stopped you just in time. You have eaten off the side of one of our love seat cushions and now I have ugly slip covers to hide the damage you inflicted. You have torn apart and eaten almost every toy we have ever given you in a matter of minutes. You have eaten books, books I was in the middle of reading and books I was saving for any future children I might have. Oh and the chicken! You grabbed that free-range chicken that meandered into YOUR yard and shook it so hard there were feathers everywhere! If chickens have nightmares or suffer from post traumatic stress syndrome, then that chicken is screwed. You have also become very brazen about checking out what wonderful things are in the garbage can...using your nose to lift the lid and peering in. If we leave the house, even if we are going to be gone for a few minutes, you are locked in a crate while Kaylee is allowed to roam free. Because you cannot be trusted.



Since adopting you, we have discovered your paternity. Your dad was a whippet, a sight hound breed known for being agile, strong-willed, and hard to train. Here's a paragraph that sums up the breed quite nicely, "Leaving a Whippet pup alone for more than a couple of hours is a recipe for a problem dog. Some folks get away with it, but every Whippet with behavior problems we have ever taken into rescue came from a home where no one was there during the day. Around three years old, magic occurs and the Whippet turns into a perfect dog. Before then, you need to be ever-watchful, ever-patient, and ready to replace furniture when necessary.*"



We haven't reached the magic 3-year mark where you supposedly become a perfect dog, but to me, you already are perfect. You are willful and sneaky, but you are also the happiest dog I've ever been around. You love to be right near me or your dad, sometimes laying on our feet or curled up on our laps. You get into things and are disciplined, but being in trouble doesn't faze you. You are destructive, but we have learned to channel that behavior, allowing you to chew cardboard and junk mail while we watch and laugh at how excited you get. You love your big sis and she loves you, allowing you and only you to take her tennis ball right out of her mouth so you can play with it, of course. You are the sweetest and most loving dog ever and I am so glad you came into our lives when you did.

Love,

Me