"Loving the Unlovable," by CD Burr

  

Chopper hopped into my suitcase when he was a puppy (2012)

My 8-pound Yorkshire terrier, Chopper, turned 13 on March 2025 and is my constant companion. He is nearly blind now and can't hear me when I stand behind him and call his name. His personality, however, hasn't changed much since I wrote the following essay in 2017.

For over forty years, our family has raised loyal dogs that we have adored. One would bring us the newspaper early in the morning, and another dog played the piano, fetched balls and frisbees, and prayed. We've been companions with a Shetland Sheepdog, two mixed breeds, a Keeshond, an Irish Setter, and three Schnauzers. All of them were obedient and well-behaved. 

Our current dogs are two Yorkshire terrier littermates, . . . and one of them has broken our record of trainable dogs. 

At ten pounds, Clark W. Griswold "Grizzy" is obedient and cuddly. However, his eight-pound littermate brother, Chopper, detests cuddling and has won the title of "most untrainable and stubborn dog" we have ever loved.  He constantly tests our patience.   The jury is out on whether he is cute, with his enormous ears that spread out, turning him into a Yoda-looking creature with tufts of hair on the pointed ends.  

After five years of us tempting Chopper with doggy treats, chicken, and steak, he refuses to go outside through a perfectly lovely doggy door that swings open to a perfectly lovely grass yard.  He won’t do it.   He prefers a pad indoors or the carpet in the basement.  Grizzy has no problem with the doggy door, popping in and out all day.  

On a summer day, Chopper often sits down before we leave our driveway, creating tension on the leash. Like a furry, long-eared mule, this tiny critter with two-inch legs pulls on his harness, refusing to continue our walk.   He most likely heard a locust, and we wait patiently while he hunts through the grass for his favorite snack.  After clamping his teeth together and imprisoning his prey, Chopper proudly holds up his head and allows us to continue, the insect madly buzzing inside his mouth. At some point, he chomps down and finishes his snack.   Later, I find lacy, iridescent locust wings that he coughed up on the kitchen tile.  

Chopper’s independent, stubborn nature also creates a challenge with commands.  He ignores “stay” when I open a door to the basement and soars down the steps, yipping and running wildly around the pool table like a mad monkey and charging off into the downstairs bedroom—another preferred, adopted bathroom of choice.  He doesn’t cease barking on command and yips and yaps at squirrels, birds, joggers, bicyclists, my piano playing, the doorbell, the garbage trucks, and the neighbors when they are trying to enjoy their pool.

Chopper is also bipolar—sweet one moment, grooming his brother’s ears, and then later, without warning, he begins a deep-throated growl.  He dons a demonic, red-eyed glare and begins creeping toward his brother, snarling with vampire-bat fangs, and then attacks Grizzy, who was sleeping peacefully on the sofa.

And yet, on my most unlovable, ugly days, he greets me with a multitude of kisses on my toes and ankles when I walk into a room, teaching me the importance of loving the unlovable.  During his calm moments, I often look into the adoring brown eyes of my Yoda-mule-monkey-vampire-bat of a dog, pat him on the head, and say, “Good boy.”

CD Burr

First published on Elders Speaking Group blog   10/17/2017; edited on 05/07/2025 

Please "Follow" me on Facebook--CDBurr-- 

And/or join my contact list to receive occasional updates  cdburrwriter@gmail.com

I promise not to flood your inbox or share your phone number or email!