Hello Friends!
When Ian smiles, I smile.
Now this is getting ridiculous, where did September go??!!
I want to start off with thanks. Thank you for the out-pouring of love and support for my mum. Your kind words meant so much to my family, and while it was a difficult blog post to write and then hit ‘publish’, I am very grateful to your reception to it.
Since I last wrote, I turned the ripe old age of 27—even though most days I feel like a 15 year old trapped in an adult’s body.
I visited my Seestur Lala and Bruder Krut in the land of OH-IO where we had the best time reuniting and acting as hooligans together.
Then, Seestur Kitty Kat and I gently jogged a 5k to raise money for ovarian cancer research. Due to Seestur Kat’s serious campaigning skills, we raised $2,290. Which is a lot coming from the girls who as Girl Scouts only asked our parents and grandparents to order cookies from us.
Again, huge thanks are in order for the friends and family who financially contributed to our 5k team. Your generosity meant a great deal. We’re truly very touched.
THEN, I had a work conference which consumed my mind and soul; October rolled around; and now Boyfriend and I will be out of town this weekend for a wedding.
I guess that rambling introduction was my justification of why I haven’t blogged. Also, I have been cooking the same recipes over and over again, so that doesn’t help if you technically have a cooking blog.
But really, I’ve been having a slight mental block when it comes to blogging because I feel like I always must tell a grand story.
Moving forward, I’ve decided that I’ll share little snippets of random thoughts and/or encounters that I have and not worry about it being a majestic opus so that you hear from me more. And, I may or may not write about food. But, I swear I’ll get more organized and share new recipes soon!
First things first, I never informed you that Boyfriend and I adopted a dog. Well, we’re actually not sure if she’s a dog. She might be a puppy still—more on that later.
Meet Chocolate Chip. Family and friends call her Chip.
We think she is part Lab, part Shar Pei, part Bull Terrier, a dash of Pitbull (if I’m going to be honest), and a sprinkling of Gremlin.
But let’s backtrack, shall we?
If you want to know one fact about me, I love animals. I am always that creepy person in the corner of a party snuggling the cat…
Or, on a walk, becoming BFFs with a stranger’s dog.
When Boyfriend and I first began our cohabitation, I thought the adoption of a dog was imminent. And then…”we” thought it would be more responsible to wait. Which meant no pup. No furry baby to call my own. And I saw people with dogs everywhere. As Spring 2015 rolled around, it was emotionally paining me to see people out and about, romping with their dogs.
How dare you taunt me with your happy life and beautiful dog!
Finally, I broke down to Boyfriend over the 4th of July weekend and plead my case for a dog. Boyfriend’s heart is not made of stone so he relented.
I actively started stalking the website of the Washington Animal Rescue League. I went to the shelter at least two times on my own to scope out the selection of dogs. There was a plethora of cute dogs, and I wanted to take all the pups home.
But, many of the dogs that matched my personality (yes, I took the dog-owner personality survey – I am an Orange) were over our apartment building weight limit of 40 lbs.
For the third visit, Boyfriend came to check out the pups, and I think the shelter volunteer could sense my growing despair that we hadn’t found “The One” yet. Though she probably wasn’t allowed to, she showed us a kennel of three dogs who were perfectly fine but were not open to the public yet since they needed to be spayed. All three jumped at the door and licked at our hands and faces. There was an especially cute three-legged dog.
It was glorious.
But then, we saw this face for the first time.
Well, Boyfriend saw her first. And the quote of the first Chip sighting was Boyfriend squealing, “Lizzie! Lizzie! The little black one?!! Yeah?! Yeah??!!!”
She was petite – 18 pounds- and was already 10 months old; we were confident that even with a growth spurt she would remain under 40 lbs. More important, she was adorable and seemed to love giving kisses.
Once Chip was spayed and had recovered, we were first in line when the shelter opened to make sure that no one else adopted Chip before us.
We requested to have one-on-one time with her, and I thought it was going to be like Christmas morning.
And, for lack of a better word, she was weird. Really weird. Once she was outside her kennel, she froze and became Catatonic Dog.
Once we brought her back to her kennel, she immediately started giving us kisses again. I was like, “Aw, she just got overwhelmed.” Boyfriend was like:
I went ahead and started the adoption process for her anyway. I don’t know what to say other than I just had a gut feeling. She was the peanut butter to our jelly. She was our lobster. She just was a bit of a freak show baby.
It didn’t help that when the pet behavior specialist later called me for my “interview”…I got the sense that I was being pitched to adopt Chip rather than being quizzed on whether or not I would be a good dog parent.
Finally, the specialist came out with the truth. “Well, I should probably let you know that Chip…Well, she failed her personality and behavior test. She froze and wouldn’t move away from the corner because she was so terrified of the trainer. So, we labeled her as a Purple and called it a day.”
Chip probably thought the trainer was a raptor trying to eat her.
When Boyfriend got home and asked me how the interview went, I was like, “Well, the specialist said that Chip is shy, but with some TLC, she’ll be A-OK!”
We were approved by the shelter, and we were finally able to pick Chip up and take her home. I had the apartment set up; I had read books on dogs having psychotic breaks; I rented a Zipcar; I had chopped hot dogs galore – this pup was going to love me or else.
We arrived at the shelter, sailed through the final paperwork, and the shelter worker went to fetch Chip. Boyfriend and I were in the pet supplies shop because I wanted to fit a harness to our little Chippy baby.
Next thing I know, the worker came rushing in with Chip in her arms. Chip looked so adorable that I didn’t notice at first that CHIP’S NOSE WAS BATHED IN BLOOD.
When the worker tried to remove Chip from her kennel, one of her kennel mates attacked her and deeply scratched Chip’s snout. Boyfriend whispered to me, “Bet it was Tripod.”
The worker immediately took Chip to the veterinary clinic to get her checked out. As time slipped by, I was slowly getting more and more upset. The worker came back out to let us know that Chip was being examined. We overheard her telling her coworker, “I moved the three-legged dog to quarantine.”
Boyfriend then murmured, “How does it feel knowing that Chip got whupped by a three-legged dog?”
The vet tech came back out to us and said that they were worried that Chip needed stitches, and the veterinarian wouldn’t be back until the morning. They had given Chip medicine to help with the pain, but she had to stay overnight for supervision. She wasn’t coming home with us just yet.
They let us see her in in the vet clinic, and we were able to pet her and feed her hot dog bits. Chip was very friendly because she either a) remembered us from before and recalled that we weren’t murderous raptors, b) was high as a kite so she felt no fear, c) believed hot dogs cure all evils, or d) all the above.
I was okay until we went back to the car…but then I saw the sheet covering the back seat, and I looked down and was holding an empty collar and leash. I totally lost it.
Boyfriend doesn’t handle tears well, so I called my mum and sobbed to her for 20 minutes in the shelter parking lot.
This is becoming a monster of a post, and it’s only Part I. I’ll try to wrap things up.
I got a call at 11:00 am the next day and was told that Chip didn’t need stitches and was cleared for pick-up. Boyfriend couldn’t get out of work, so I was riding solo. I re-rented the same Zipcar, put the sheet back down in the back seat, and went to the shelter.
They brought out my Chip, who still was pretty docile, with a large scab on her nose. They laid her gently in my arms, and she tucked her little head under my chin.
That’s when it truly struck me – dude, this creature is dependent on me for survival. I then carried Chip out, and we didn’t look back.
Tune in for next time when I talk about gentling a mildly disturbed dog and how Boyfriend and I adjust to being dog parents!
Tschüss!
Sie Lizzie D
sielizziedkuche 
