"DebC's having pups" it read. I smiled. I was happy for her. Sometimes, you just have to jiggle my little head a little to get me to understand what you're trying to get across to me. "DebC IS HAVING PUPPIES, CHARLENE?" "Oh", I said, "I get it"
In June 2002 I received another email. "The pups are here, one girl, one boy. The boy is HUGE" Well, we all knew what that meant. That huge boy, was mine. All mine. Or atleast that's what I thought. Till Jason received word that our newest family member had entered the world. "Nope", said Jason. "This one is mine. You ruin animals. You spoil them. They don't listen. I'm taking control of this one, and I'm going to train him. He won't be bad. He'll listen. He'll be the good kid"
I accepted the challenge. I'm never one to turn down a good bet. The months passed, and the day arrived when it was time for me to fly to Missouri to pick up this boy whose pictures had us laughing daily. I have to hand it to DebC, she has a knack for capturing the true essence in puppies. Trouble is.. every picture she took of Sonny showed him getting into something. His little sister, Zoey was always looking so innocent, so calm. I could see it in Sonny's eyes. I knew Jason was about to eat his words. So I left for Missouri and returned home with Sonny. (I have to admit that he was a very, very good boy on the plane. I think that was the last time I can remember him being good, though)
Almost immediately he took control. He took control of every toy, every feed bowl, every square inch of free space (and then some) on the bed. Within days he was escaping from his x-pen and running to tell us how great he was for accomplishing such a feat. Yet, Jason still insisted that with his "Training" secrets, this boy was not going to be ruined. After several episodes of coming home to certain surprises, like shoes being eaten, my eyeglasses half buried in the gravel in the backyard, Christmas trees toppled, Christmas presents destroyed, Jason admitted, that he probably had a hand in ruining and spoiling the other furrs and feathers in the house.
Sonny Boo. That's what we call him. He makes a game out of the word Boo. When he hears it, it calls for a game of blitz or hide and seek whether you're in the mood to play or not.
He's a curious little boy. Nothing gets by him. Everything must and will be investigated. Once he had followed Noel and me into the bathroom. Finishing my business, I did not put the lid down fast enough. Before I could turn around, Sonny was in the toilet. Face first. Fortunately I had flushed first.
I often call DebC and asked her what she fed his mother? Where does all of this energy come from? He's got more than Noel and Chewey combined. And smart! There is nothing he can't figure out when given a few minutes. Independent is also another word to describe him. He'll play for hours by himself, but loves a good game of runlikehell with his brothers. (instigated by him, naturally) He and Noel are best friends. Co-conspirators, they are. And they've both perfected the "it wasn't us" look.
Yes.. sometimes God heals our broken hearts in the most remarkable ways. Sonny is everything I believe a Silky Terrier should be. He's full of life and energy. He adores his people, but he cherishes his independence. Like his silky brother, Chewey, he's too smart for his own good. But most of all, best of all, Sonny is a part of our family now. A huge part of our family. He's our baby, that doesn't think he's a baby. He proved his Pa's theories wrong. He's Sonny! Just Sonny! Say it with a smile on your lips, because 1.5 seconds of being in the same room with him will have you grinning ear to ear.
Thanks DebC for being such a good Granny to him. Whenever you feel like babysitting.. just whistle. (and bring some strong coffee, you'll need it)
