Pip The Potato: A Story Of Triumph Over Evil

It was the last appointment on the Saturday before New Year’s Eve. In walks a Chihuahua breeder we had never seen before or since. She had her child and a six-week-old puppy the size of a large hamster to ask us why his eyes aren’t open yet.

My veterinarian, the kindest sweetheart of a human being you’ll ever meet is explaining through the excited face-licking from this puppy that:

Veterinarian: “He has a condition called bilateral microphthalmia, his eyelids are open, but the eyeballs never formed.”

Breeder: “Put him to sleep, I can’t sell a blind dog.”

Immediately the kid starts crying. In a tone as icy as the Michigan winter outside my vet says:

Veterinarian: “Give him to me and I won’t charge you for the visit.”

The owner agrees. I’m heavily pregnant and I need a blind teacup Chihuahua like I need a hole in my head, but I convinced my vet to let me foster him for the weekend, so she doesn’t cancel her holiday plans to care for this literal ten ounces of dog. Monday’s a holiday, Tuesday we close for a blizzard, and my husband has named him in the meantime. So that’s the story of Pip, my foster failure of a breed I swore I’d never own. He was all of two-and-a-half pounds fully grown and the friendliest little potato you’d ever meet.

Oh, and about six months down the line, a good regular client asked out of the blue if a little blind Chihuahua puppy ever came in. This was the person who gave the breeder lady our name. She was glad he was in good hands but when we told the tale, she said:

Regular Client: “I told her I’d adopt that puppy!”

Apparently, that breeder just couldn’t give anything away for free.