Puppyhood  








I was born in Fairfax, Virginia on a fine spring morning in early 1995
(March 9th to be precise).  My mother was a beautiful pure bred Golden Retriever, 
a well known champion and much loved figure on the local dog scene.  She dubbed me Chandler as my birth name!









          
        
  I cannot remember ever seeing my Dad, but
from all accounts he was a rather spiffy young male Golden of impressive physique and bearing.  I
have been told that his only role in the matter of my conception, gestation, and birth was
to simply deliver up some top-quality genes during the first part of the process. 
Certainly, my mother appeared to be quite unperturbed by his absence at the time of my
birth. 









I still look back with affection at that all-too-brief period
of my early puppyhood, when I was able to spend all my days either frolicking with my
litter-mates or seeking warmth and sustenance from my mother. 
  
 Inevitably, however, the time soon arrived when 
    my brothers and sisters and I had to say our farewells and make our separate 
    ways in the world. It was then that my mother's owner began a rather severe 
    screening process aimed at ensuring that the homes that my litter mates and 
    I were going to go to would measure up to her exacting standards. I mean, 
    it was fairly clear to us all that nothing was too good for the members of 
    my mother's second litter. 
  


And so it was that I came to be selected as his future
companion and confidante by a young male of some 27 (human) summers. 
He was actually looking at some of my littermates, but took to me the moment I tugged on his
shoelaces.  He seemed even more impressed when I passed his aggressiveness test, and a bit
shocked when I marked his shoe indicating my acceptance of him in my pack.
  
 It was not long before I found myself at my 
    new home - the big, dingy, five-bedroom kennel at 9734 53rd Ave. I can clearly 
    remember the excitement of my then to be future pack leader as he drove me 
    to his basement abode. What is more, it soon became clear that the rest of 
    the pack at 53rd Avenue regarded my arrival as a most significant and auspicious 
    event, showering me with attention and pats at every available opportunity. 
  








          
        
  OK, I will admit that I did miss my litter-mates
terribly for the first few days, but I was greatly comforted by the slowly emerging
realisation that I was on to a pretty good thing here at 53rd Avenue.









Here is a picture of me shortly after I arrived at my new
home.  Note that I am sporting my first clothing, a snappy little number that the pack leader
showed admirable taste in picking out.









         Me as a puppy
      





  
 Of course, it was not all tennis balls and leftovers 
    during those early days. The pack spent many hours of intense training time 
    bringing me to the proud standard I now bear. In those days, I also couldn't 
    walk but 5 or 10 minutes without getting a good puppy sleep in there, so my 
    master spend many an hour carrying me on these long walks. 
  
Now, my master was pretty strict, so I had to 
    put on a cute face to avoid all those scolding words when I, how should I 
    put it, messed up. Here's a decent shout of my attempt one evening... 
  







         Me as a puppy 2 
      



    
My new pack leader was always 
      attentive, and made certain that I had plenty of time to romp around in 
      the grass. It wasn't soon before I received my first chew toy, a large stuffed 
      hamburger the size of my whole head. I loved making the thing squeak, because 
      when I did the pats and treats were sure to follow. One thing my pack leader 
      especially liked is when I would run with the hamburger, and due to my small 
      size would get it under my paws, pulling my whole head and body toward the 
      ground as I tumbled in surprise...