Toby – Brad Pitt of Min Pins

Toby - Brad Pitt of Min Pins
Toby - Brad Pitt of Min Pins


Life has been a bit – unsettled – here at the CowChows this week. Through a confluence of happenstance, ambiguous communications, and questionable judgment my wife and I became the proud custodians of a bouncing boy puppy. His name is Toby; he’s a Miniature Pinscher; he weighs about eleven pounds and stands twelve inches tall at the shoulders, and looks exactly like a tiny black and tan Doberman Pinscher. He’s smart as a whip, fast as lightning, and cute as a button. He’s adorable, but he’s an eleven pound straw on my back.

A week ago I was a man who had, at long last, begun to feel a sense of balance and wellbeing. Business was still down but I could see and sense that it would be okay provided I continued to work steadily toward the goals I had set. The yard work and home maintenance projects were whelming but not overly so. I had even carved out some time for study, reflection and writing. I had time for work, time to enjoy being at home with BG, and time to indulge my personal inclinations. It was a juggling act but I had a handle on it. Then along came Toby.

He’s a good dog. In fact I would be hard put to imagine a better pup. He’s good natured, affectionate and breed-standard perfect, but he requires near constant attention and supervision. It feels like I’ve gone from juggling three bright shining spheres to trying to catch one hyperactive jumping bean. We’ve discussed trying to find him a new home. After all, he’s young and energetic and loves to be around kids and other animals, and we’re – well – none of those things.

But then, I think maybe it’s just a matter of finding a new balance. Perhaps a little patience is called for. Surely there must be a way to juggle three shining spheres and a jumping bean. Although, if you know of someone who would give him a happy and loving home please let me know. And so it goes – decisions, decisions. What’s best for him? What’s best for us? Can we live with him? Could we live without him? We acted impetuously in bringing him home, but now he’s here and is quickly wriggling his way into our hearts.

I guess the lesson I’ve learned here is that spontaneity is like puppy crap. Sometimes it falls your way; sometimes it doesn’t.

Until next time, watch where you step.

Cordially yours,

Tim Couch