I am not doing a good job here...

...and I know it! My whole schedule is thrown off. I haven't touched my knitting since Saturday—any of it, and there's a lot of it.
But it's not for nothing. I'm spending the next 6 days dog sitting while my parents are out of town, and there's not much I enjoy more...I think I enjoy knitting equally as much.

Besides, look at that face.

Meet Mr. Chips. Mr. Chips is a cocker spaniel my parents rescued about a year after our previous rescue cocker spaniel, The Maxx, died. 

We really enjoy rescuing cocker spaniels. 

I used to think The Maxx was the sweetest dog in the world, even though he did bite my sister in the face. She wouldn't leave him alone! She was little, he was recently rescued, and there was probably some harassment going on for her part. He ran into his crate to get away from her, and she tried to follow him in, and he snapped at her face. And possibly caught it. But she was fine and there was no blood or breaking of skin, so I still thought The Maxx was a contender for sweetest dog in the world. 

Plus, they were totally best friends after that initial misunderstanding.

matching faces

But while The Maxx was incredibly sweet, he was also moody. If Maxx didn't want you to touch him, he'd just walk away from you and not look back. If he was mad at you, he'd ignore you, or possibly do his business in the house. He was obsessive with his toys and water, to the point of vomiting if he had too much of either. And when he eventually went blind and hard of hearing, all bets were off. The only person he could tolerate for any extended period of time was my mother, with whom he was obsessed. 

Mr. Chips is very different. Like my sister and I, Mr. Chips has terrible seasonal allergies. Which makes staying with him an interesting experience, because as much as my parent's house, with such close proximity to a blooming park, is killing me, I can't feel sorry for myself for too long when I see him sneezing and rubbing his eyes along with me. He's also part brown and part white—just like us. Mr. Chips never barks, because someone clearly beat the bark out of him, so instead he does what I call the "silent scream"—a high-pitched, almost soundless throat whistle that sounds like the wind moving through tightly packed trees. He talks as well, when he's hungry or tied up, making little guttural moans, whining, and generally just chopping up his voice into little bits, so it's never barking. The only times I've heard him bark were when he first met my older brother (who possibly reminded him of someone dangerous), when there were wolves howling on the tv, and when he's having a nightmare. Last time I stayed with him, he would have a nightmare about every other night. He wouldn't even wake up—he'd just shoot into a sitting position and start baying like an alarm, until I woke him up by petting and talking to him. I often wonder what happened to him before he found us.

Chips, unlike Maxx, craves affection and a sense of being included. Unlike Maxx, he loves riding in the car no matter where you're going—he even loves being left to sleep in the car. Maxx fell off the car seat once, and that was it—he hated it, and would shake uncontrollably any time he had to go in the car. And unlike Maxx, you could stick your face into Chips' face and harass him all the live long day, and he's never going to get exasperated and snap at you. He might walk away, but that's about it. I'm convinced he would be a great baby dog, because he has the patience and tolerance of a saint.

Seriously, he might be the sweetest dog in the world.

I mean, look at that face.

The point of this post, I guess (besides having nothing knitting-related to post about) is that I've been wanting to rescue a cocker of my own for quite some time. 

At any rate, there's a 3-year-old cocker spaniel waiting for me back in Astoria—to make a long story short, I tried to adopt him once, someone else got him, and now he's back. So as soon as I'm done watching Mr. Chips, I'm going home to meet him. I hear he can be a little hyper, which I'm hoping is just a symptom of being caged most of the day, with no one to call his own.

There is nothing better, nothing, than a quiet, relaxed cocker spaniel sitting at your feet. I imagine my next post will tell you whether or not I got him.

In the meantime, enjoy this Harry Nilsson song, which I constantly find myself singing.

Happy puppies!

Flossie