My family had a few dogs growing up. Godfrey (part collie, part husky, part St. Bernard), Buffy (a Maltese - we didn't name him) and Buttons (a poodle we also didn't name). Mrs. splorp! had a few, too: Sandy (beagle mix - Mrs. splorp! said part kangaroo) and Mugsy (Boston Terrier). We both wanted a dog, but always felt that owning a dog in an apartment without a yard was mean. So, we waited until we got a house with a fenced backyard. D'Artagnan (Dart for short) is part Chihuahua and part hypersonic speed demon. I call him 10 pounds of tail-wagging fury.
On Valentine's Day (2010), we went to the animal shelter in Camarillo, CA to see what we could find. Mostly, it was a bunch of sad dogs - it was kind of depressing. When we saw Dart in a cage between two much larger dogs, we knew we might have a winner. We walked back to the office and gave them the cage number. The shelter employee leashed him up and walked him over to a fenced in area. Dart (unnamed at the time) was barking at the other dogs and pulling hard on the leash. Once in the fenced area, the employee let him loose and BANG! Dart was off like a shot. He kept running around, but kept coming back periodically as if to check in with us. There was a tennis ball there that I tossed, but I think he was too excited to care. He was a good-looking, happy dog.
He was a winner.
We went straight back to the office and wrote a check. A few days later, he was all snipped (ouch!) and ready to come home. He had to wear a cone for a few days (which is always funny), but was otherwise perfectly healthy.
He did pee once on the carpet (excitement) and once in the kitchen (on newspapers on the floor). I don't blame him for the kitchen. We left him there overnight with no way outside. We bought one of those doggie-door inserts for the sliding glass door and he was able to run in and out all day and night to his little heart's content. He was mostly house-trained (only a few "accidents") and Mrs. splorp! was able to train him to sit, settle (lay down), shake and eventually even roll over. He LOVES to roll over (especially if he thinks it will result in a treat).
We even got my sister-in-law's approval (she's one of those animal people). This is her with Dart and her dog, Loki.
Back in April 2010, I dropped an empty 2 liter of Coke in the kitchen and Dart attacked it. It was pretty damned funny, so I did it in the backyard and recorded it. The 2 liter bottle is almost as big as he is.