Chewy was a great dog, he new who and what he was. He was a pure shih tzu, never fixed. As a puppy he was fearless, the first outing was an adventure. Chewy at 2 months old jumped into a river and swam the rapids. Lee (my husband) was running a long the bank, with one leg in a cast from the knee down.
On our next outing, we drove around Lake Tahoe, every few weeks we tried to get out of the city and go somewhere or no where just out. We were walking down a forest road and Chewy ran ahead of us and jumped into a pile of silt so fine he could almost swim, he was covered head to toe in the finest dirt. All we could do is wrap him in a blanket and head for Spooner Lake, where he got a bath.
At nine months old we went on a campout with friends. After dinner we all stood for the Lords prayer, I herd something and looked down, Chewy was going to town humping the small female dog next to us; he was very greatful at that moment.
He lived his whole life in the moment with as much joy as he could find, I only wish I could do that. He passed this last summer after a long happy life.