I’ve told you before how gracious and generous are the Pastor Robert Allen family, but their generosity almost excelled itself when Sister Allen said to Chloe, “Would you like one of the Shih Tzu pups?” I wasn’t there when they had the conversation, but a few hours later I learned of the potential gift when I too was offered one of the little dogs.
“You’re giving me one of the puppies?” I asked.
“Yes, we often give one to our friends who are in ministry.”
That night I met Sir Winston and Milo . . . and my life has forever changed, for how could I look into such a face, and say, “No, thank you.”
Chloe called her dad for permission. Her dad said, “Yes, but we’ll keep it a secret from your mom,” thus arose the need to delay the earth-shattering news. She picked Milo, a tiny little fella with a beautiful white face.
It was Friday night when we met the pups, and Jerry had said yes, I could have the remaining puppy. I hesitated for all the reasons I’ve mentioned previously.. . . but when we pulled away from Tucson we had two beautiful pups in a big cardboard box and were on our way to Lake Havasu where Mike and Mel were preparing dinner for us. Chloe and I had plans. We stopped at a WalMart the other side of Phoenix for we had to lay in supplies for our babies. Jerry kept Sir Winston in the car: Chloe tucked Milo in her purse and nearly caused a riot in the pet section when several people spotted him, called their relatives to see, and even had their picture taken with him. (We’ve learned since that we shouldn’t take them out in public yet, for they are too young for their shots, and they might pick up a disease.)
Chloe and I hid our pups behind our backs when we arrived at Mike’s, said, “1, 2, 3” and then popped out Milo and Sir Winston. Mike grinned . . . laughed . . . and called Melina to come see. We had bought puppy shampoo, so before dinner Chloe and I gave our babies their first bath.
Jerry had preached in Lake Havasu Sunday, we drove home Monday, and by Tuesday afternoon, we had arrived in San Diego, and all the family had been introduced to Sir Winston and Milo. Shawnna was totally surprised, but excited.
From everything I’ve read and with conversations with other puppy owners, I’ve come to think Sir Winston is an exceptional dog. Excuse me while I brag.
1. Yesterday at Pet’s Mart, I bought a kennel for him. With no difficulty at all, he slept in it last night, by the side of our bed. He had his last potty trip at 10;00 . . . and slept without a sound until 5:00 am!
2. He almost never whines . . .
3. When I take him to the back deck, he immediately pees, but to finish his job, he wants to run around and sniff here and there. Our deck is one story high with open sides, and every day he walks a little faster, and I’m afraid he’s going to fall off the deck. So, today, Jerry and I made him a private bathroom. He does not like puppy papers, rather prefers the outdoors. To accommodate both his needs and his wishes, his area has many leaves, dirt, and other plants. I’ll probably put a paper out there, to help him get used to it for the days when freezing rain is falling and he will be forced to such a lowly thing! (He’s just much too elegant for plastic puppy papers; rather he needs a portion of God’s green, cool earth.:) )
Early this morning, Sir Winston got lost. I had been playing with him for about an hour, could tell he was tired and was probably ready for a nap. I worked on my computer for a few minutes, then looked around for him, and he was gone. Gone! I mean. I called, looked under chairs, couches, in the bathrooms, under beds . . . calling all the time. I could not find him. I even went outside, called there. Nothing. Finally I went to the bedroom where Jerry was still asleep. “You didn’t come in here and get Winston, did you?”
“No,” he said as he roused and began to dress.
Sir Winston likes to sleep under my green chair in the dining room. I had looked carefully under there, had even run my hands around on the floor to feel for him. Nothing. Now, I retraced my steps, and decided to move the chair completely out. There. There on the bottom shelf of the bookcase, tucked way far back, he was curled fast asleep.
“You little rascal,” I said as I gathered him up. I took him to Jerry and said, “Winston has been a bad boy.”
I said that two or three times as Jerry was rubbing the thick black and white coat of little Sir Winston, then Jerry quietly said, “Shirley, you’ve scolded him enough.” I smiled inside.