This is Luke's little princess, Savannah. She has lived a privledged life from day one. Luke got her about a year before we got married; she was a squirming fat little bundle of yellow sausage-y love. He had big plans to make her sleep in the kitchen, but from the first night on she has shared his pillow. She chewed up the remote, the furniture, the house, pooped and peed all over the carpet, and ran away a few times, but in his mind she is the perfect dog. Thank God I potty trained her and imposed some rules and spankings or who knows what kind of terror she would be today? She is a fairly good dog now except, she can't swim, she's scared of her own shadow and barks at anything. She's beautiful, I admit, even though she has managed to break her ear and her tail (don't ask), but that doesn't hide the fact that she's dumb as a box of rocks.
Then there's Wilson. I guess I'm a sucker for hard-luck cases, because he's my favorite. Mandy and I found him about a year after I'd gotten married, at the tennis courts. He was about seven inches long, covered in fleas, starving and less than eight weeks old. He walked up to Mandy, curled up in her arms and fell asleep instantly. That did it...I was gone! It was touch and go with his health for a week or so, but after that, he was so great. He was trained in less than three days, has never chewed on anything except his toys and is incredibly smart and athletic. Also, even though he is a mix, he loves me with the true loyalty of a labrador (unlike the catty treatment I get from our purebred) and is very protective of our children. He also loves to play with Patrick while Savannah prefers to lick the stupid patio.
The moral of the story? Looks aren't everything and nice guys don't always finish last!
