Och, Chewie, we hardly knew ye. But then you bit a kid like a dumbass.

Chewie is going back to the Daisy Hill Puppy Farm, because while he's perfectly lovely to Paula and me, he is an asshole to every other living being on the planet.

Not entirely true. He is tolerant of our kids, other than growling at them from time and time and nipping at Owen.

So, wait. Maybe he isn't good to have around the house, since he views our still smallish children as growl-at-able.

The incident that led to his banishment wasn't even entirely his fault. Owen and his little friend were antagonizing him with potato chips or cheese puffs or something, basically baiting him with treats and snapping them away at the last minute. Owen's friend put his face up to Chewie's, put a puff on his own nose, and said -- haha -- get the treat. Now, if you are attuned to the rhythms of small boys and small dogs, you know what happened next, and you are rubbing your nose right now. The kid was okay, but it was a little too close to disaster.

My heart is heavy, because I do love that little dog. If we had a barn, I'm sure he'd be a champion ratter. But our kids are too prone to casual scientific enquiry for a dog like Chewie. He's not up to the task of being a constant experimental subject.

Sigh.