Friday is Farmers' Market Day in Turlock. I love to go. I hang out at our Tea Party booth, get a refill of my favorite hummus, Pure Baba, from the San Leandro man, and hit up Valerie for another succulent. But this past Friday there was no getting me out the door at 7 a.m. for set up and being a one car family, I was home for the morning. But - then I got an idea. Kris got off work at noon so I wouldn't miss my stops after all. She drove me downtown and surprise, surprise, I dropped in. That's when it got interesting.Earlier in the morning I had been on Facebook (of course) and noticed that the local animal shelter was going to be down there for adoptions. There was even a picture of cute puppies. By the time I got there, however, I had forgotten about the pups and hitting Don up for money, I headed off for veggies. That's when everything went sideways. I spotted the puppies.
I took a peek in the box and there they were, three little chihauhau/terriers, one a wee runt. The little guy was 3 months old and weighed 3 lbs. I picked him up and he snuggled right in. I was doomed. Then to seal the deal, I motioned for Don to come over. He took one look, cuddled the little guy, silent communication passed between us and - WE were doomed.
Since then, he has taken over the house, our bed, Tanner's food bowl and as you will see above, like babies everywhere, he likes shiny, jangly things. If you are ever asked what the relationship is between keys on a keyring and doggy i.d. tags, the correct answer is babies of both the two footed and four footed variety.
He learned very quickly how to go in and out of the pet door to go into the backyard. Housebreaking has moved to the "I know I did something wrong and now I will hide in shame" stage. He figured out that he has a food bowl and Tanner has a food bowl and there is no sharing. Oh, and about our bed. We let him cry for about ten minutes that first night and then we caved. Don is a much quieter sleeper than I am so he tucks Delaware in with him and we all get a good night's sleep.
Oh! About that name. Since he instantly became our group mascot, we knew we would have to give him a patriotic name. Someone suggested Liberty. Uuhhh, no. He's a boy and with my pechant for nicknames, I didn't think Libby would fly. I also nixed George, as in George Washington. Nope. The man was 6'4" and Delaware is a runt. Absolutely not. But then my brother suggested Delaware and that rang all the right bells. So that's his name . . . Delaware as in George Washington crossing the Delaware. We call him Delly or Little Delly for short. Yup. That works.
