It has not always been easy. My former owners left much to be desired and I had no role models. It seems
that after they bought me, they couldn't figure out what to call me. Apparently on the way to my new home, a
local dive restaurant somehow inspired them to name me "Chili Dog".....I was worried. Who are these people?
Fortunately, Phil and Christine came along and adopted me when I was only 1 year old. I call it more of a
rescue than anything. Phil and Christine renamed me Zoey. I wouldn't say that they were much more creative
than my former owners. It turns out that Zoey is also Phil's niece's name. She lives in Paris, France. Phil's
dad was not too happy about the name he gave me. I heard that his dad just kind of stared at him when he
told him my name.
Life has been pretty good since then, though Phil has some pretty weird habits like getting up at 3 AM to go
outside and sit by a machine for hours in the freezing cold. I still haven't figured that one out, but it's the little
things that I can ignore. I go out and hang around with him to make sure he doesn't fall in the pool or
anything like that. Not that I would be much help if that happened, I don't like water.
I guess all things considered, I have it pretty good around here. I use to have to share
the house with that white cat Pandy. I tolerated her presence for the most part. She
moved to San Francisco with Brian, and she comes to visit once in awhile.
Another thing, Emily taught me to beg for doggy bones by getting me to sit up with my
front legs in the air. She calls it Bear Dog, I guess because I look like a big bear when
I do it. It's a little embarrassing when I do it, but I sure like them cookies! Sometimes I
just put up one paw half way and if they're tired, I'll still get the cookie.
