Horrendous breath odor and all, I adore this baby/dog/human hybrid, or BDHH. My "Spark Plug" is utterly devoted to me, unless the scent of food swirls into his orbit. At that point, I am unceremoniously dumped (unless I have the food), but only temporarily. I mean, what else does my sweet tater tot have to look forward to in his limited, boring little life? Over the years, I have attempted and failed miserably at trying to limit his consumption of our highly fattening, mostly non-nutritious American diet. Had I been successful, he would not weigh a startling and staggering 10 pounds. He should weigh no more than 7 lbs; ideally he should be around 6 lbs. We started referring to him as a rump roast with legs recently. Sometimes he's a pork loin with legs, depending on our mood.
He enthusiastically offers his services as a dishwasher and I must say, he is very conscientious at cleaning our dishes after a meal. That little tongue works feverishly to remove every last crumb, growling at the other dogs when they try to help. "Back off, you inferior morons. Mom has put me in charge of this important job."
Other than the food issue, he is just about perfect. If I'm at the computer, he likes to sit right beside the chair, sometimes begging to get on my lap, but my keyboarding eventually annoys him and he jumps off. If I'm watching TV, he cuddles beside me under his baby blanket. If I'm on the pot...well, you get the idea. Lately, he has decided that when we go out to the garage, it's time for a ride. Unbeknownst to us, he waits patiently in the dark until we realize that he is no longer at our feet and discover him there. When it's time for bed, he waits for me to put down my robe, which I place beside my pillow, and he settles comfortably into that. Well, it is the softest robe ever.
Izabella Grace (Izzy) is my other BDHH. She is a toot that makes me smile practically every minute I'm home.
What a little survivor! Orphaned at less than a week old in June of 2006, she was brought to the emergency clinic dehydrated and near death, along with her 2 brothers. Sadly, her siblings did not survive, but she thrived under the care of an exceptional vet tech, Amy, who tube-fed her every few hours. At 7 weeks, I took over, reluctant, but excited. At first, my husband was skeptical that she was even a canine. Weighing less than a pound, she looked more like a gerbil, but I was determined to give this little creature a good life. My argument was that she wouldn't take up much room. As a "micro dog", she didn't really qualify as a full size dog. She's now 1-1/2 years old and weighs 5 lbs, with an exuberant personality and oversized tongue that has no choice but to dangle happily out of her mouth.
Sparky, oddly enough, is extremely protective of her, growling at the other dogs on the rare occasions that they engage in play. Sparky has even allowed Izzy to sleep with us, as long as she stays away from the prized robe.
Izzy loves to play fetch and tug-of-war. She also goes into a frenzy when the Dyson vacuum commercial is on, lunging and barking maniacally. We dvr'd it for our own amusement, because we're totally not perfect parents and like to get a rise out of our baby/dog/humans from time to time. I'm sure Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer, would disapprove of this practice. Twisted though it may be, it is quite entertaining.