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It was our third Saturday of looking and I was getting discouraged. We were three counties from home and I was afraid my husband would get tired of the search and settle just to be done. As we walked along the interior we looked side to side. I surely didn't see anything promising. Outside we went. Again, I felt the let down of another failed trip. As we passed through the office on the way to the car, I had a nagging in my heart. I looked at Alan and asked if we could walk through one more time.

As soon as we came to the interior kennel, there he was! Small, yet sturdy on those cute short legs, with a black and gray fanned tail that was trimmed in tan and swaying like a pendulum, with the yummiest dark brown eyes, and a tongue that held a grin, was our Chipper. He looked at us with the entire package and appeared to be saying, "It's about time you got here. Can we go home now?" He had picked us! We were being chosen to receive a blessing we did not deserve, but would always cherish.

At first I wanted to name him "Gramps" because he looked old with his gray beard, and he wasn't a fast guy either. But after only minutes with his great attitude and never ceasing tail wagging, Alan announced that he had to be called "Chipper" because he was so happy. So, Chipper he became. We soon found out that Chipper had only one attitude and it was happy. He was the answer to our prayer. We needed a happy dog for our lonely nine year old son. Because we had moved to a rural area with few neighbors and no children, Tyler needed a companion. No, let me rephrase that. What he needed was Chipper.

Though we were told that Chipper was fully grown, he couldn't have been over a couple of months old. He originally could sit on my lap. But in a couple of months, he was way hanging off! He continued to grow long, but never grew much taller. Maybe he was a cross between a terrier and a basset Griffon. No one ever knew for sure, but who cared?
He was our kind of dog!

His hair grew long and shagging and we never even thought of having him groomed. After all, he didn't have a pedigree! One muggy, hot August day, I took pity on him and got out my scissors for a little trim. Of course, I butchered him, but how could I not? Every time I'd try to stop, he'd beg for more. We took him to be groomed the next day to try to make him presentable or at least not embarrassing! While most dogs don't care for grooming, Chipper loved every minute of it. He would run into the dog spa, anxious to be pampered,

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