Age: 7 years Gender: Neutered Male Color: Liver and White Weight: 50 lbs Variety: Bench Bred 7/29/07: Every once in a great while, there comes a dog that makes everyone wonder how on earth it could possibly end up in rescue in the first place. Here’s one of them: Hi, My name is Kip and the first things you’re sure to notice about me, what with this being an image-driven culture and all, are my blond highlights and Hollywood figure. I want to say right off the bat that I came by both naturally. You see, my radiant ears didn’t come from a bottle, but from months spent out in the grueling Florida summer sun. And the svelte physique I sport is not a result of anorexia or bulimia, but of being chained up, alone, without food, see “grueling Florida summer sun,” above. Seems the person I worshipped since I was a puppy was a truck driver and for some reason I still don’t understand, he gave me to his father, whom I call “Grandpa.” Well, Grandpa must not have known that I was already housebroken or something, because Grandpa chained me up in his yard and conveniently forgot I was out there. That would include feeding time. So, OK, if you were like me and chained up in a yard out in the grueling Florida summer sun with no food or company, what would you do? Just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, they did. Grandpa loads me up and takes me to a place in Jacksonville he called a “shelter.” He told the shelter that I am “7 years and 1 month old,” which proves he knew exactly when I was born and where I came from. He didn’t share any more details of his knowledge of my origins with the shelter workers, however. Grandpa was also one of those humans I’ve since learned are known as “liars,” since he told the shelter workers that he was turning me in for my “destructive behavior.” Get out of here, Grandpa!! All I did was try to get away from YOU because you were starving me of food AND human contact, both of which I desperately need. Since I have been in my new foster home, I have been a model canine citizen. Oh, when looking at my photos, you should also know that my coat was so matted when I was turned in that it had to clipped off, but fortunately it reveals my rich, dark chocolate shade of liver and the white of my coat has beautiful freckles and ticking, giving evidence of what a handsome springer I will be when it grows out again. Oh, and back to that weight thing: Although I was only 50 pounds when I was turned in to the shelter, I am 22.5 inches tall at the shoulder, rather large for a springer. I’m on a diet to help me regain the weight I lost and I should be about 60 pounds when I get my physique back. When my foster dad pets me, I wrap both my front legs over his arm, crossing my paws, to let him know I don’t ever want to let him go. When foster dad gets home from work, I make these sounds in my throat that are literally cries of joy that he is home. He tells me he’s amazed that I can be so sweet, gentle and trusting considering what I’ve been through. My energy level is moderate as I like to chase lizards and squirrels in the back yard and I am VERY eager to go for my nightly walk. I behave nicely on a leash and I don’t pull. I’m also learning the “Wait” and “Cross” commands before crossing the street. Naturally, I already know the basic sit, down and stay commands. I’m not only housebroken, but also know how to use a dog door. I also don’t jump up on the furniture unless I’m picked up and placed there. Despite how Grandpa tried to starve me to death, I’ve never taken any food off the counters of my new foster home, although I have sniffed it and know that it’s there for the taking.