Chester is still a challenge

He left me with his dog. Not that I’m complaining, I love this dog but I didn’t choose him.  I have written about Chester several times; his antics, his challenges and my commitment to him. I love Chester.  That doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t choose him — he was, and still is, my husband’s dog.  And he was, and still is, a challenge. 

I am a tough mother – I do not suffer misbehaving fools gladly. Chester has been a master of misbehavior all his life.  His Dad always saw the humor in Chester’s antics — I got to clean up the messes.  The funniest stories are always about the bad dog, the challenge. Perfectly behaved dogs don’t usually go down in history but they are certainly easier to live with. Chester is only five and already has the longest chapter in our book of dogs. 

Chester’s file at the animal hospital reads like a far fetched adventure story – he has kept my life interesting while putting our vet’s son through university. Ches and I almost made another installment yesterday. 

I thought I had the house Chester-proofed but he found the one poisonous plant I was unaware I had and helped himself to a little snack.  Dr. Google is a great (and inexpensive) way to determine how much panic a situation really requires. It turns out the very attractive, eye-pleasing, decorative sweet potato vine is toxic to dogs and cats and my very attractive, eye-pleasing, decorative planter was laced with it.  I guess to Chester it looked delicious, and because the plant has been having a growing spurt, was now conveniently within reach. I didn’t hear him chowing down on the vine but was definitely alerted to its eminent reappearance on the living room floor. 

The receptionist at the animal hospital and I are on a first name basis and she is never all that surprised to hear from me. We determined over a quick phone consult that Chester would probably live to tell the tale… again. Lucky for him, me and the bank account. 

Chester bounces back from these misadventures quicker than I do, his memory is short. He is sniffing around for his next mistake even as the very attractive, eye-pleasing, decorative sweet potato vine wilts in the compost bin. I am surveying the house for any other overlooked hazards and losing hope that he is ever going to learn.

Sometimes I feel bad for Ches, he has a very short leash.  He doesn’t even get to run loose in his own backyard – he has survived one too many second chances and lost the privilege.  He can’t be trusted with the freedom most well behaved dogs take for granted, he is a victim of his own shortcomings.  I may not have chosen Chester but I do choose to keep him around for a while. He is still a challenge, but he is a challenge I’m still up for.