Meet Chipper. He was a throwaway and labeled for euthanasia at the pound before a rescue group rushed in to save him. Someone shot him before the pound picked him up. He was a throwaway. He still had the bullet in his leg when he visited the rescue clinic. The vet surgically removed the bullet, nicknamed him Ammo, and also treated him for a tick-borne illness. He was a throwaway.
We met him on an incredibly hot summer afternoon. An hour later, he jumped in the truck and sat next to me. As we drove east, he watched the trees zoom by. Then he'd look at me with big excited eyes. He was a throwaway. He was a little nervous about his very first warm water and soapy suds bath. But he soon relaxed as the water ran down his back to his feet and the red clay soil stains on his paws disappeared. He was throwaway.
I named him after the dog my grandfather had when I was a toddler. He was the first dog I have any memory of. I adored my grandfather, and I loved his dog.
Chipper now has his own food bowl and a comfy bed with a fleece blanket. He has four siblings that he runs and plays with for hours around acres of shade trees, singing birds, and mischief squirrels to chase with his gunshot wound limp. He was a throwaway. He enjoys taking naps in the sunshine, walking side by side with me to the studio, and the boy has a fondness for sweet potato French fries. This pup loves today more than yesterday, even though others kept saying he was just a throwaway.
Meet Chipper. He is finally home. #adoptdontshop #mansbestfriend #meetChipper