The old dog and the puppy

The puppy looked at the man in the face.  “Play with me now! Life is short. You must play!”  The man, tired from life’s constant battering, looked back at the dog and realized how much wisdom the little puppy possessed.

As I type this, Pip is thrusting a squeaky toy into my leg.  She got me up at 5:45 a.m., ready for joy, fun, play and whatever else she can conjure up.  There is no time to waste in Pip’s world.

She’s the first puppy that Amy and I have had in 15 1/2 years.  Sadie, a solid white Westie-mix, was Amy’s dog when we met (and her first child). She died tragically when we moved into our house in Mississippi. To help fight the spiraling despair Amy felt, I found Molly, a Border Terrier puppy.  Banjo, another Border Terrier, followed a few years later as a six-year-old rescue dog and a companion for Molly.  Molly passed away two years ago. Banjo’s story is one that many of you are familiar with. He passed in July. So after years of geriatric, calm dogs, we opened our door and let in a Cat-5 hurricane.

Having a puppy after owning an old dog is like drinking from a fire hydrant.

Pip (short for Pipsqueak), is also a Border Terrer. But she is more terrier-like than Banjo and Molly were (they were calm).  Pip is only calm when she is asleep. She’s 100% energy all the time.  She likes to attack my sons’ legs, thinks the world is her chew-toy and is convinced the dishwasher is her personal buffet.  The dog is extremely bright. Housebreaking her has been more of a chore than I imagined it would be. Most of the time, she is part saint. But she can be part spawn of Satan, too.  Obedience training is about to begin.

She’s just very much a puppy.

I will catch her staring at me, with her head cocked. I only can imagine what is going through her little mind.  And sometimes I’m afraid to ask.

Banjo was a big lug. He was a dog who wanted to sit next to you and love you all the time. Pip wants you to play.  She has a different style than her older uncle, but it tugs at my heart just the same.

I miss Banjo so very much.  Making him such a big part of Fried Chicken & Wine has meant that I think of him every time I touch one of the books.  But the pain brought on by his illness and loss is slowly turning into gratitude. I’m so grateful that he was such a big part of our lives. Just as I am grateful that Pip crashed into our home.

Why?

Life is a joy to her.  A gift not to be missed.  When she is doing something, it is 100%. When she is resting, she’s zonked out.  There is no gray-area for Pip.

She has taught me that life is to be savored and enjoyed. The little brown wrecking machine has dug her way into my heart. Thanks to her, an old dog has learned new tricks.

Editor’s Note: She chewed up my glasses right after I wrote this.  Bless her heart.