Ode to Pip

Pip has been part of our lives for two years now. Given a nearly impossible task of filling a Banjo-shaped hole in our hearts, she has done an excellent job. No, Pip isn’t Banjo — while she’s the same breed, she is her own dog. In fact, there is only one Border Terrier anything like her in this world, and that would be her mother Twinkie.

Pip rules Pip’s world and we’re just along for the ride.

She barks too loud. Hates the dog next door. She steals socks and passes gas. Her Alpha-dog tendencies cause her to mother my boys and sit on our heads. She thinks her name is “Treat,” because that’s the only word that will get her to come inside. She’s bullheaded, ornery, bossy and strong-willed.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

She was born at almost the precise moment Banjo died. I think his soul tried to enter her body. She would have nothing to do with it. She walked into our house at seven weeks and attacked my sons’ shoes and legs. Not much has changed in two years.

Pip is Amy’s dog. If Amy is asleep, Pip is cuddled next to her. Good dog. You figured out who to suck up to. I am a source of entertainment and food. Like I said before, it’s Pip’s world after all.

I want to thank Jim Harvey for introducing this strange little pixie into our lives. Jim owns the Blue Rock kennels where Pip came from. He graciously allowed her to enter our hearts.

She came from a very famous litter. Her brother “The Dude,” is a champion. And Pip is a queen.