Precious Pup No. 3

Okay I promise this is not a teary one as the boy is still alive. I missed having a playful dog around the place (even though I was only home 5 months of the year from Uni). Our local shopping centre had a pet store and one Christmas holidays 13 years ago I saw three chihuahua cross pups in the window for sale. My mission was to convince my mother to get another dog. She had seen them also but deliberately kept walking. Soon they were down to two and eventually I got her to stop and at least enquire as to how much they were. They were in fact very cheap. Apparently the three brothers had been born in Adelaide (in another state for those who don't know Australia). For some reason they were sent to Perth and a different store. They were too noisy at the other store so they got sent to my local. The boys were three months old already and had 75% off the cost to get rid of them. I told mum it was meant to be and that God had planned it that way. So we chose the most excited looking pup, a scrawny little thing (as per very blurred photo).

The drive home was interesting as all he wanted to do was get up high. He ended up on my shoulders and I couldn't get him down. This only lasted a little while. When old age hit him around one year he became like an old woman. I think Tinks being old at the time and never playful didn't do any help.


He remained nameless for a week as we really couldn't think of anything that fitted. One day a friend knocked at my door, as usual the little boy went all protective and barked his little head off. We told my friend we couldn't think of a name and then suddenly he said it for us. It was a strong name that would make this small, scrawny little thing feel like a Rottweiler at the door: RAMBO. Hey at least it sounds good telling Rambo to shut up at the door.

So what is Rambo like? In his first year of life he had guts. He climbed the heights of the lounge onto the kitchen table (small house) and attacked a vicious paper book fall of well meaning thoughts. In mum's letter to me about the whole incident it was "YOUR DOG." He was always my dog when he was bad. Considering I wasn't there for much of his first 3 years of life he soon became mum's dog.

Caught on the ironing

At around 4 years he filled out into a solid but still little dog. Not a single bit of fat on him. Like a real man he patrol ed the perimeter of the back yard. The garden had permanent tracks in it where he walked. If someone came into the house his hair would stand on end and he would warn them off with a loud bark ... from underneath the table hidden in between the chair legs.

His favourite game (which happened very rarely) was to get into a sudden hyperactive mood and jump from mum's lap across the floor and onto mine, then back again. Of course he had to get a scratch each time he landed on us though otherwise the game would be over.



Overall though he is a real sook. He only wants to know about you if you are going to scratch his belly, behind the ears and on the rump. He is the fussiest eater. He won't touch any kind of pet food unless it is a doggy treat like schmaco's or meaty bites. He thinks he is human in that he has to have something different every night ... sausage tonight, chicken leftovers last night, mince meat and veg tomorrow night. If he doesn't want it he won't eat it. He can go three nights without eating.



When Tinks died Rambo soon took the place of sole protector of the family and really took over the role of mum's dog. I took him out sometimes when I went bush with friends (4WD in the photo here). One day we all took our dogs. He was about the size of their heads but he still took on the German Shepherd. All Rex wanted to do was have a sniff. The poor big fella didn't know what all the commotion was about

It was a couple of years before we got precious pup number four, but when she arrived he had no idea what hit him. Here was this little ball off fluff half his size that took over his life. Play! What was this thing called play and why does she insist on doing it every second of the day? He was good though. He would either join in (more out of self defence I am sure) or he would ignore the fact that his leg was being gnawed on. Quite often he would find she drape herself over his back, he would walk away but she would walk sideways still hanging on. (photo's later)

We had just finished training the both of them that the spare chairs were not for the four legged family members of the house when my Aunt's came to visit. A towel was then permanently placed on the chair. When the new lounge arrived two years ago they both found themselves floor bound unless laps were available.

Now he his older they play very rarely. Rambo has developed bad allergies to everything in nature and is forever scratching. The tablets he is on make him fat and really skittish. Any noise out of the ordinary IE a hole punch, and he is out of the room like a shot. He has a heart mermer as well which you can feel when holding him and yet he still tears around the back yard no worries in the world.

Getting nice photo's of him are difficult to say the least. He always looks guilty. In his younger days we could catch him unawares but not now.

Anyway speaking of the boy, he is now curled up at my feet. Time to let him out I think.

Stay tuned for Precious Pup No. 4