Ellie

For Phase Two I have decided to go with dog ownership.  My wife and I went to the pound the day she came home and picked out Ellie.  She was tiny and shy, lying in her cage amongst the cats.  The folks at the pound said she was Chihuahua mix and would probably not get much bigger.  My wife only had thirty days to show me how to care for a dog and then had to leave the country for a few more months.  During that time I discovered that the folks at the pound were wrong.  It seems that she is Chihuahua mixed with a bull terrier, and now she is four times the size she was, muscular, and no longer shy at all.  She's had a rough first year of life.  She's been dealing with the move along with us, living in a motel room for a month, lots of travel, etc.  We've had her about 7 months now, she will be one-year old in February.  She managed to knock a table over and break her leg.  I call it her $2,000 leg.  She's still not completely house trained although she knows she's supposed to go outside.  I had envisioned a house with a fenced yard for her so she could run wild, as is her bull terrier nature, but we ended up in base housing which is an apartment.  Luckily she is still small enough to run about the place and burn off energy inside.  Once I get her registered with the county, I'll be able to take her to the dog park in the next town over and let her run free outside.

I love Ellie and show her affection when she's not growling at, barking at, or biting me.  I walk her and pick up her shit and we mostly get along.  I'm learning it as I go.  I do though sometimes get the impression that she hates me, sees me as a prisoner sees a guard, someone to get along with superficially, but with a simmering hatred below.  She destroys my things.  I just discovered that she tore my souvenir psyche ward wrist band to shreds.

But she's my dog, so if you are following along, I'm sure you'll hear about her from time to time.