Originally… and the Ellis Island employee that dropped ball at checkpoint did not know the havoc such a useless ball of fur would bring.
During a trip to Schlitterbahn in August 07′ Baby gave birth to 3 squeaky miniature polar bears, two girls and a boy. In our family it is required that we name all animals after movies, with the exception of Baby. Baby’s name came from the misfortune that we never could all agree on a name… well she now answers to Baby and Puppy. Simba was the original pom, I got him when I was 19 and living alone and needed a companion/watch dog. Simba died a week after my 21st birthday when mom backed her car down the driveway taking my younger brothers to school. It was a sad day, as I at 21 years old was kneeling in the front yard with my 11 and 8 year old brothers praying that Simba’s life be spared. No such luck, my pop and sister gathered Simba’s body and buried him while my mom pleaded forgiveness. To this day, when are in the mood to make our mother cry or need to make a quick buck we say two simple words. Dog. Decapitator. Todd was a Valentine’s gift from Dan, he researched and found Simba’s parents that were still breading puppies and he looked just like Simba. Todd sniffed and trotted into my office and into my heart that day, he was named after the Disney movie Fox & Hound.
The Late & Great Simba
Little werewolf, he use to walk on his hind legs… it was weird and adorable.
Valentine’s Day 2006: Our new pup, we both had zits and he thought it was ok to wear that shirt.
It was Daniel’s dream that we own a German Shepherd named Charlie, after all Dogs go to Heaven. Big dogs are a subtle fear of mine and to purchase a 3500 dog is just stupid. Just Stupid. So little male pup was named Charlie. At two weeks old we found Charlie in Baby’s food bowl (literally laying on top of Purina Puppy food inside the bowl) with kibble breaking down in his mouth because he had no teeth and his eyes hadn’t even opened! This should have been the first sign that Charlie… was… errr… different.
Thanksgiving holiday was in Canyon Lake with the in-laws, meaning Charlie & Todd were visiting “Aunt Jenessa.” Thanksgiving morning Jenessa and her boyfriend were giving the dogs their routine morning break without their leashes. It doesn’t take a genius to recognize that if a dog isn’t restricted they are going to scamper off. Jenessa’s apartment if off Westheimer and intersects with Beltway 8… a massive amount of speeding cars. Uh-oh. I get a phone call from a frantic and apologetic Jenessa telling me that both Charlie & Todd have been missing for an hour and of course I completely fall apart. I am bawling because it is another cluster of animals that are most likely dead at the fault of a mother who refused to house the animals, where a fenced, suburb-ed home was much safer as oppose evil forces that is urban living. At this point my mom is having flashbacks of Simba’s murder scene, her draining bank account and promises to not allow anyone to sit for Thanksgiving dinner until the dogs are safe and found. The wait begins and I contemplating driving all the way back home to help in the search but my mother in law’s look of disappointment prevents me and I try to act my age while keeping a brave face. THREE hours go by and my sister finally calls to say both dogs had been found, but Charlie has indeed been hit by a car and was taken to an emergency animal hospital. His condition is unknown. (Cue Grey’s Anatomy serious music) More waiting. Forty-five minutes later my mom calls to say that Charlie is fine… unbelievably fine. The car actually ran over his neck leaving only tire tread marks! Charlie was checked for internal injuries and released with some pain meds to help his soreness. The next day we returned to find Charlie cozied up in my mom’s BED. She isn’t taking any more damn chances. LOL. Sure enough, there are tire marks on the nape of Charlie’s neck and its an absolute freak miracle that nothing happened to him. So we think…
Charlie is now close to a year old and he is 25 pounds of per pom muscle. He has green eyes, a pink nose (like his mother) and an abundance of fur. We call him our “bear” because he is just… freakishly huge. The point of me sharing Charlie’s courageous story is because we think the accident rattled his little pom brain… making him special. mentally. This epiphany came to me last night when Charlie was raising hell knocking things over and running into walls with full force. What are we to do with him? Nothing but wait it out. Pomeranians usually live 12-17 years, unless we ask my mom to drive my brothers to school again. (Evil Laugh.)
This morning, Charlie & Lola doing what they best: being a pom.
Manbearpig (Dan) trying to get Lola to go back to sleep.
**Interesting Fact if the Day**
Nacogdoches Blueberry Festival is this weekend in downtown square. Even more interesting NO alcohol is ever served at city functions. Ok… not so interesting… but remember to be thankful for what you have!