My sister told me that a coworker of hers was looking to rehome his young dog. I'd been looking for a young dog to take to Canada West Canine Centre with me, and this young pup was in my own neighborhood; in fact - it was Pippin himself! I'd told Pam I would steal him. I meant it when I said it, even though I had no idea months later the family would decide to rehome him.
I picked up Pippin late at night, it was past 11pm and I was returning from a party. A friend came with me, as he knew the family better than I did. When I saw Pippin he was tied on a rope that he'd obviously chewed threw at least 5 times and they'd re-knotted the rope back together. The other end of the rope, which was now only about 4 or 5 feet long, was attached to a dog house that was unusable because Pippin had chewed it so badly it had completely imploded onto itself. He was jumping up and down as if his back legs were actually pogo sticks. I couldn't take my eyes off him. A knot formed in my stomach. I could barely listen to the woman telling me about what type of food he ate as she tried to give me a bag of no name dog food from the grocery store. "No thanks," I insisted, "I already have food for him."
"At least he doesn't pee on people when he jumps anymore," one of them had said.
"What kind of dog is he?" I asked.
"Labrador Retriever and Boxer," the man replied.
I looked Pippin up and down as he jumped.
He looked like a German Shepherd to me, "and German Shepherd?" I asked.
"Oh no, there's no Shepherd in there, just Lab and Boxer," he answered.
I decided from then on I'd tell people he was a German Shepherd and Boxer cross.
Pippin wouldn't sit still long enough to get a leash on him, I ended up walking him home on the ratty rope he was attached to. The family said their goodbyes, and I began on my short journey home. Pippin gagged at the end of the rope and dragged me all the way. What had I gotten myself into? I kept thinking.
Once home, I let Pippin loose to "explore" his new home. I told him he could go anywhere he wanted. Back and forth he ran from one end of our mobile home to the other. I tried to take photos of him but they all turned out as brown and black blur. He seemed incapable of stopping to even take a breath. He had to sniff everything in sight and he wanted to do it all at once!
I looked at the time, it was nearly midnight by this point and I had to work the next morning. What was I going to do? I felt bad locking him up in a kennel with so much pent up energy. Had he ever even been in a kennel before? I wasn't sure, but found it doubtful.
"Okay, lets take you for a walk," I decided. I wasn't sure how he'd handle on a leash, but judging by how well he did on a rope, I didn't have high hopes. I decided I'd cut up some cheese, the one thing no dog can seem to resist, and bring some along to try and work on his leash manners. After all, working a dogs brain is almost as good as working his body too!
I went to the kitchen and pulled the block of cheese out of the fridge and set it on the counter. I turned around to grab a knife to cut it with and when I turned back around there was Pippin with his front paws up on the counter gobbling down the block of cheese with great frenzy.
"Hey!" I exclaimed, motionless for a moment in shock, "bad dog!" I shooed him off and cut off the end he'd chewed. That would be the chunk I took with me, which later I'd learn I could never have too many treats with me on a walk with Linkin.
I'm not a big fan of jogging, so this was a pretty big accomplishment. "Maybe you'll help me get in shape," I told him. His tongue draped from the side of his mouth which curled up into a big doggy grin.
Back home, the hour was ticking by and I was ready for bed. I put Pippin in the spare room in a crate. He had a nice cozy blanket, he'd had a drink after our jog, and I was hoping would be tired enough to go to sleep.
I laid awake for three hours that first night, listening to him cry. I refused to give in. This was a puppy who had a rough start in life, he was neglected through no fault of his own, just neglectful and ignorant owners. The rest of his life would be better. I vowed to train him properly, to make him into a great dog.
After 3 and a half hours he finally had gone to sleep, and I too, drifted into a wonderful land of sleep.
My boyfriend came home and nudged me awake. "Where's the puppy?" he asked, excited about our new addition.
"he's in the spare room," I grumbled and rolled back over to get back to sleep.
As my brain woke a little more I realized what just happened. "don't-" I began, but was too late. The cries and barks started again when Jared went to see the new puppy.
It was another 2 hours of barking and crying before anyone got any sleep.
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