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Another Member of My Pack
Feb. 23rd, 2011 11:19 amAround our house, the weather is always mostly stormy. At any point, a cloud of fur may run to the door and loudly declare his menacing nature. His voice would thunder if he were capable of it.
This sound is much more impressive from the outside. Whenever I open the door to the mailman or whoever it is that dared lay a paw on our dog’s doorstep, I am sure they are surprised to see that such threatening sounds come from such a small little body. Max Ewok is half Chihuahua and half Jack Russell Terrier but, in his mind, he’s apparently a vicious Rottweiler or Pit Bull ready to tear any trespassing cat limb to limb.
Almost 2 years ago, my children were sure they wanted a pet. We had tried adopting a stray kitten and my youngest was heartbroken when Comet the Kitten had to leave due to allergies. With my husband, my son and my youngest daughter allergic to cats, it seems our house was not destined for a nice quiet cumulus cat, content to float around our home and rest as a nice billowing puff of fur upon our couch.
My children were heart-broken when Comet left so my husband promised them a dog. We were still discussing what type of dog to get (I thought) when I checked my voice mail one night and heard: “I’m bringing home a puppy.”
A puppy? All of a sudden he has picked one on his own? My children were all very excited, each voting for certain names. My son wanted to name him Ewok, my older daughter wanted to name him Snickers, and my youngest was sure that Clifford would be the perfect name. Personally, I didn’t care what we called him but I did want to know where this puppy was coming from? What kind of dog did we now own?
I called my husband back. The children kept trying to interrupt with name ideas so finally we discussed names. I told my husband, Ron of the children’s suggestions but he decided he wanted a classic name. “Let’s name him Max,” Ron told me. My children were disappointed but Max he became with a compromise middle name of “Ewok.”
Max entered our world as a small bundle, as most clouds do. Tiny and scared he was covered in fleas and trembled when we picked him up. I worried about his ability to hold his own with three small children always wanting to hold him. White with brown spots, he mostly wanted to sleep his first few weeks with us. At six weeks, it was a bit of a struggle even to teach him to eat the dry food but finally he caught on.
I guess the food built his confidence because soon Max felt quite at home, a little too at home if you ask me! I never knew many details about Chihuahuas but I soon learned that even the Jack Russell in Max wasn’t enough to dilute his Chihuahua tendencies when it came to paper training. He’s doing better now but he’s still a drifting cloud, bursting at unexpected places and faithfully watering our carpet. I’m convinced I’d have a well-watered field of wheat with no effort if I had only plowed our floor and put seeds in instead of flooring. I’m always one step behind him, trying to clean up his latest disaster, whether a mess on the floor or a laptop cord he’s chewed to pieces and left for me to find.
Max isn’t the easiest dog to own. He loves desperately and deeply but only five people and no more. All the rest are his sworn enemies so he has to be sent outside or to the garage whenever company is around. He’s bitten my mother-in-law, my sister, my father and my son. He’s always able to produce rain, whether peeing all over the vet’s office or making the kids cry with a sudden nip. But no matter how unpredictable or grumpy he can be, my children love Max beyond reason. They soon forget their tears when he nipped them and jostle for him to pick their lap to sit on this time.
Despite all the stormy rage Max holds for people outside his pack (us), he is firmly against corporal punishment. The few times my husband has decided my son needs a spanking, Max was right there in the middle, growling at my husband that he will grab my son over his furry dead body. It amazes me how willing tiny Max is to start a fight he will not win.
A headache, a bother, a pool of pee. Max contains many less than endearing qualities. But he has taught my son to love and to think outside himself. My son, James, probably has Asperger’s but Max has pierced through whatever it is that caused James problems with empathy. James is so affectionate with that dog and Max loves him back, bounding to his lap and licking his face. Max never sits for long. He is energetic to the extreme, jumping from one piece of furniture to the next and chasing his tail. My husband, angry about the messes Max makes, once asked James, “Wouldn’t you like to get a different dog, one that isn’t so crazy and jumpy? I’m not sure Max was the right dog for us.”
“No way!” said James emphatically. “Max is perfect for us. He has ADHD, just like me.”
My kids call Max “our furry little brother.” And for the all the mess and problems and tears, I can’t help but love the one who holds the hearts of my kids tightly in all four of his scratchy paws.
But Max, try to use the pee pad next time? OK?
Below is a photo of Max with my (now seven year old) daughter. She has her arms around him and I'm not sure he likes it. He is about the size of a large cat, white with brown ears. His ears are large and stand up like a Chihuahua's. My daughter is blond and wearing a lavender scrunchie in her hair. She is wearing her favorite dress which is covered in red roses and blue flowers.
This sound is much more impressive from the outside. Whenever I open the door to the mailman or whoever it is that dared lay a paw on our dog’s doorstep, I am sure they are surprised to see that such threatening sounds come from such a small little body. Max Ewok is half Chihuahua and half Jack Russell Terrier but, in his mind, he’s apparently a vicious Rottweiler or Pit Bull ready to tear any trespassing cat limb to limb.
Almost 2 years ago, my children were sure they wanted a pet. We had tried adopting a stray kitten and my youngest was heartbroken when Comet the Kitten had to leave due to allergies. With my husband, my son and my youngest daughter allergic to cats, it seems our house was not destined for a nice quiet cumulus cat, content to float around our home and rest as a nice billowing puff of fur upon our couch.
My children were heart-broken when Comet left so my husband promised them a dog. We were still discussing what type of dog to get (I thought) when I checked my voice mail one night and heard: “I’m bringing home a puppy.”
A puppy? All of a sudden he has picked one on his own? My children were all very excited, each voting for certain names. My son wanted to name him Ewok, my older daughter wanted to name him Snickers, and my youngest was sure that Clifford would be the perfect name. Personally, I didn’t care what we called him but I did want to know where this puppy was coming from? What kind of dog did we now own?
I called my husband back. The children kept trying to interrupt with name ideas so finally we discussed names. I told my husband, Ron of the children’s suggestions but he decided he wanted a classic name. “Let’s name him Max,” Ron told me. My children were disappointed but Max he became with a compromise middle name of “Ewok.”
Max entered our world as a small bundle, as most clouds do. Tiny and scared he was covered in fleas and trembled when we picked him up. I worried about his ability to hold his own with three small children always wanting to hold him. White with brown spots, he mostly wanted to sleep his first few weeks with us. At six weeks, it was a bit of a struggle even to teach him to eat the dry food but finally he caught on.
I guess the food built his confidence because soon Max felt quite at home, a little too at home if you ask me! I never knew many details about Chihuahuas but I soon learned that even the Jack Russell in Max wasn’t enough to dilute his Chihuahua tendencies when it came to paper training. He’s doing better now but he’s still a drifting cloud, bursting at unexpected places and faithfully watering our carpet. I’m convinced I’d have a well-watered field of wheat with no effort if I had only plowed our floor and put seeds in instead of flooring. I’m always one step behind him, trying to clean up his latest disaster, whether a mess on the floor or a laptop cord he’s chewed to pieces and left for me to find.
Max isn’t the easiest dog to own. He loves desperately and deeply but only five people and no more. All the rest are his sworn enemies so he has to be sent outside or to the garage whenever company is around. He’s bitten my mother-in-law, my sister, my father and my son. He’s always able to produce rain, whether peeing all over the vet’s office or making the kids cry with a sudden nip. But no matter how unpredictable or grumpy he can be, my children love Max beyond reason. They soon forget their tears when he nipped them and jostle for him to pick their lap to sit on this time.
Despite all the stormy rage Max holds for people outside his pack (us), he is firmly against corporal punishment. The few times my husband has decided my son needs a spanking, Max was right there in the middle, growling at my husband that he will grab my son over his furry dead body. It amazes me how willing tiny Max is to start a fight he will not win.
A headache, a bother, a pool of pee. Max contains many less than endearing qualities. But he has taught my son to love and to think outside himself. My son, James, probably has Asperger’s but Max has pierced through whatever it is that caused James problems with empathy. James is so affectionate with that dog and Max loves him back, bounding to his lap and licking his face. Max never sits for long. He is energetic to the extreme, jumping from one piece of furniture to the next and chasing his tail. My husband, angry about the messes Max makes, once asked James, “Wouldn’t you like to get a different dog, one that isn’t so crazy and jumpy? I’m not sure Max was the right dog for us.”
“No way!” said James emphatically. “Max is perfect for us. He has ADHD, just like me.”
My kids call Max “our furry little brother.” And for the all the mess and problems and tears, I can’t help but love the one who holds the hearts of my kids tightly in all four of his scratchy paws.
But Max, try to use the pee pad next time? OK?
Below is a photo of Max with my (now seven year old) daughter. She has her arms around him and I'm not sure he likes it. He is about the size of a large cat, white with brown ears. His ears are large and stand up like a Chihuahua's. My daughter is blond and wearing a lavender scrunchie in her hair. She is wearing her favorite dress which is covered in red roses and blue flowers.
