Kristine went to Denver over Thanksgiving and sometime while out shopping with her granddaughters, she came across this little hairball.
John's brother called and asked if they could buy him for Grandma (apparently she told them she LOVED him, although she told us the same day that she didn't want him). We asked them to wait at least 5 days to be sure that it was something she really wanted. The next day we got a text from the youngest g-daughter telling us they had purchased the dog and it would be fine because they would keep him in Denver if it was a problem.
I was not happy.
It is really fun to see puppies and want to get them, but there is a reality that comes with that. Sadly, because he was bought from a puppy mill type place, he was very sick (strangely, they still charged full price) having both kennel cough and parasites. But the deal was done and Kristine brought him home after her visit up North. He was on medicine that needed to be administered several times a day. And he was not potty trained. It didn't take long for Kristine's trailer to have multiple messes. Not pleasant.
There was some confusion and discrepancy on his name. It started out as Jack (Papa's name), but Kristine said she really didn't want that, so we changed it to Jake when he got to Durango. The granddaughter that helped pick out the dog really wanted it to be Jack, and Kristine started calling the hairball that again. It was a little confusing, but mostly annoying to me. I stayed out of it because I never talked to the little hairball.
Of course, only a couple of weeks after her return, Kristine went to the hospital for her Gall Bladder. Coincidentally, the only thing I asked for at Christmas was to have all of the floors in my house professionally cleaned. Carpet and tile. It wasn't cheap, but I was ridiculously happy about having it done. And the very day after it was done, the hairball was now staying with us. And he wasn't any closer to being potty trained than he had been before. Luckily, the kennel cough was gone, so he could be around our dog, Daisy, but he still had a lingering gagging thing he did.
Well, we immediately went into potty training mode and he did pretty well. Actually, he seemed really smart and started to catch on.
He was here through the Holidays and getting into the Spirit of Christmas, I scratched his belly a couple of times. There was still the confusion with the whole Jack/Jake thing and I didn't like it. I wasn't that fond of the name Jake, but I had no desire to call a sickly dog after my beloved Father in Law, especially if the dog was going to die. I just couldn't go there. So I called him 'hey'. Not that I was talking a lot to the hairball, but I did have to let him out to tinkle, or entice him to try a chew stick instead of my dresser leg.
As much as I was trying not to be attached to him, I had to admit that I was starting to like the hairball. He was smart, he didn't bark, he liked to follow me around, and he wasn't having accidents on the floors hardly at all. Right after Christmas he had some major constipation and I had to eh-hem (I can't believe I am writing about this...) help him and clean his little bum. He must have been in a lot pain, but he didn't cry or try to run away. He just looked up at me through his hairball hair and looked so very sad and helpless. He let me fix him up and I wrapped him in a little towel and took him to my room.
Of course I called John and told him I couldn't believe what I just had to do to a strange hairball, and could you believe this how I was spending Christmas break?! OK, I admit it was pretty funny talking about it. And dang it, he was so, so well behaved about it all. And gosh darn it, before I knew it, I had to admit that I started to like him. He was a cute hairball that looked like a rat when wet-in an adorable, sad, sickly, cute kind of way. I had tried not to get attached, but after you do what I had to, it kind of bonds you. And it wasn't really his fault that no one potty trained him or kept him healthy. Poor little sucker.
After that, he kind of took a liking to me too. He followed me around and napped in the sun that comes through my bedroom window. But I still wasn't calling him by name and I knew we must decide this.
While the Martins were here, Theo mentioned that the little hairball's hair was just like Chewbaca, the Wookie. I looked at him and thought they were right. "How about Chuey?" I casually asked. Gabe, Seth, and Elise were all there and they started repeating the name to see how it fit. And it seemed like it did. We noted that while small, hairball certainly had the heart of a Wookie. Gabe declared, "His name is SO Chuey." Other people in the room voiced their agreement. But I wasn't sure. I didn't want a third name to throw into the mix. We needed to pick just one name and stick to it.
John talked to Kristine the next day and she seemed all right with the idea (she had actually started calling him Yoda when she first brought him home, so I guess we weren't that far off). I just left it alone, but now it seems like everyone is calling the hairball Chuey, and he responds (I'm telling you-he is really pretty dang smart).
So Chuey it is. As much as I tried to not get attached, I like the hairball. He's smart and cute in a wookie kind of way. The kids love him, but most importantly, I think he makes Grandma Kristine happy. I do hope this last round of medicine will get rid of his cough, because I want him to be healthy and happy.
Oh shoot, he just peed in the office. CHUUUUEEEEEYYYYYY!!