In the spring of 1993 we decided to get a dog. I didn’t want a very big dog or a very expensive dog, so we looked through the want ads for a small dog that we could afford.
We found the perfect ad for a little blue heeler offered for free to a good home. That was us! We called and then piled into our little blue Honda Civic and headed out into the country—all the way out to Riggs Road near Queen Creek. We looked for the address and finally found a farm house off the road.
We knocked and a woman came out. We told her we were there to see the dog—that we were the people who had called earlier in the morning. She was very surprised. A family had just left with the little dog. She had assumed they were us!
Charlie, Megan, Michael, Steven and Graham (I can’t remember exactly which kids went with me) were all ready to take a pet home. Their disappointment must have showed on their faces. Suddenly the woman said, “Wait, don’t go. I have another dog. He will be perfect with your kids.”
Imagine my surprise when the woman brought out a three year old German Shepherd. This was not a small dog at all. But the kids seemed to like the big dog. The woman explained that the dog had been through training at the Police Dog Academy, but had flunked out because of his mild temperament. If we wanted him, we could take him.
Despite my misgivings the kids climbed into the little car with the dog squeezed in with them in the backseat. The lady even gave us a big bag of dog food. During the drive home I wondered if this big dog would behave. I wasn’t sure if I knew what to do with a big animal like this one. But there was lots of petting and talking which was reciprocated by licking. There was no barking, no lunging or biting.
When we got to the house dad said, “That’s not a small dog!” But he seemed to like the German Shepherd too. We decided to name him Chip in honor of his police dog training and the California Highway Patrol—CHP.
Just as the woman had said, Chip was a very friendly, mild dog, and he was very well trained. The afternoon was spent commanding Chip to sit, to stay, to come, to wait for a treat. He responded perfectly.
Dinner time came and everyone sat to eat at the big table in the kitchen. Chip went over, turned around several times and then settled onto the rag rug in front of the kitchen sink. When dinner was over and the table cleared, the kids went off to do homework or watch TV.
After a few minutes I came back into the kitchen to clean up a little. There was Graham, nearly three years old, lying on the rag rug with his arm around Chip’s neck. As I stood in the doorway watching Graham leaned over and looked the dog right in the face. “Come on, you can do it Chip,” he whispered. I leaned forward to listen. “Come on Chip, say Graham. You can do it. Graaaa amm.”
I started to smile, listening to the sweet little guy snuggled up to the big, nice dog.
And the big dog looked into Graham’s face, opened his mouth, and. . . .
licked him across his face!
Needless to say for all the years Chip was with us, Chip and Graham had a special friendship, speaking to one another in a language they both understood
