Every year around the 4th of July, we make a trip to my parents house in North Carolina. For some reason in 2005 we were later than normal making the trip. It ended up being around the second weekend of the month. My dad has always been a big animal lover, so whenever I go home, it is an opportunity for him to show off his animals to me….no matter how many times I have already been introduced or spent time with them.
This time the trip took a little different turn. My dad wanted to take me and Jay to visit with a friend of his who used to be a chihuahua breeder. He had since decided that there was no sense in breeding and was having his animals spayed and neutered. In the process, he missed two. The female was a spunky little black, tan, and white pup and the male was a little firecracker of chocolate and tan. What resulted in these two tornadoes meeting was a litter of 5. Two grey and tans (blues), a chocolate and tan, and two black and tans. Jay and I took a look into the box that they were in and of course we were drawn to the fattest little grey one. Little did we know that we would be discussing whether or not he would be coming to Atlanta with us.
Jay and I talked alot that night. I had wanted a dog, but had always had australian shepherds. I didn’t think I was ready for a small dog. I did not want to have to learn the “small dog shuffle” when walking. I decided it was not the thing to do at the time. Little did I know that Jay had other ideas. I was told on the way back to Atlanta that Jay had already committed to the man to get the puppy and had paid for him. It was for my birthday which was only a couple of weeks away.
Jay and I tossed names back and forth for those couple of weeks. I was to go back to North Carolina the weekend after my birthday to pick the pup up and bring him back to Atlanta. Names floated through our heads whenever we were in bed at night…..finally a name was settled on. It was Jackson.
I worked at an animal clinic and I remembered that those pups had fleas on them when we saw them. It was the dead of summer and I was not riding back to the ATL scratching like a fool. So I took a flea pill with me that was safe to give any pup over two pounds and would kill all fleas within 30 minutes. I knew from looking at the little butterball that he definitely weighed over two pounds. I gave little ‘Jackson’ the flea pill, stood and talked to the man for 30 minutes and then got into my truck with him completely flea free. After a brief stop at my grandma’s house to show her and my nieces the puppy, I started what I was sure was going to be the longest drive ever back to Atlanta. That little puppy gave me a taste of what puppyhood with him would be like. He slept the entire trip.
I had already set up a kennel for him at home and he seemed perfectly content to sleep there. I didn’t want to have him sleep with us for fear of rolling over on him and making a puppy pancake. He was making himself right at home. He was, however, having a really hard time learning his name. He just would not respond to ‘Jackson.’ He did stop, sit up and take notice one afternoon, though, when he was in the middle of the bed turning circles when Jay said, “Oh look at him, he looks like a ‘Frisbee.’ From that point on, that little droopy eared wild man was known as Frisbee.
He was such a good puppy. He never whined or barked and he slept on our sleep schedule, which is completely unusual for a puppy. The only noise that ever came out of him was after a friend of ours had come over to see him and he was left alone in the bedroom. As we stood in the kitchen talking, we heard one lonely little “Bow-woooo!” coming from the room he was in. He was a playful little puppy and loved to follow me around the room. He did have a little mischievous streak and loved to crawl under the bed. He knew he wasn’t supposed to do that. One afternoon, I am folding laundry and I hear “BONK!” Frisbee had bumped his head so hard on the bottom of the bed that it left a mark that is still there today. Ever since then he has always been a few fries short of a Happy Meal…..but still such a sweet pup.
His proudest accomplishment was the day I brought him home a beautiful green cushion to sleep on. I put it in the bedroom floor and went to the kitchen to get something to drink. I came back into the room to find Frisbee looking up at me almost smiling in the middle of a pile of green shredded material, batting, and foam. He was so cute, I couldn’t do anything but laugh.
Frisbee has always loved people. The first year of his life was spent riding around the animal clinic in the pocket of the practice manager. He is still never any trouble and he is my buddy.He definitely loves his daddy Jay and his uncle Curt….but Frisbee is definitely a daddy’s boy. He loves nothing better than to lie on his back in the crook of my arm and have his belly rubbed. When I read, he thinks that his place is right under my chin. “What do I need that old book for when I have Friz.” Nothing is better than feeling a warm little blue chihuahua cuddled up next to you when you are in a bad mood. He is my buddy, my monkey-boy, and my Frooby Doo. What would I ever do with a big dog now?