My Dog has an Identity

Every morning I am awakened to the cold nose and the slimy tongue of Chewbie, my Yorkie mix. No matter how many times I say "Good morning?" In a high pitch voice, he will always lay 5 kisses on me. We bought him last year when my mother perceived the she was feeling the fear of becoming an empty nester. She has never liked pets, much less indoor pets.
When she suggested it would be a good idea to get a small indoor dog, I did not hesitate to start the search. We visited every pet store and searched online, until one morning my younger sister saw an add in the daily paper. She text me the add. I was at my practicum site that day and had no way of getting out early. I called several times throughout the day to ask for updates. First there were 2 and then there was one. I made it in 5 min. To find a small, scared, and stinky little fellow. I knew he was the one. The entire way home I baby talked to him. "Momma is going to love you! Momma is waiting for you." After 3 baths, his smell went from potent to tolerable. We put him in a small basket and hid him in the laundry room. When mom came along, we initiated our elaborate plan to surprise her (mind you, she always knows whats going on. Its hard to pull a fast one on her).
A loud scream came from the laundry room, "Mom! You have to get in here! I think there is a rat in the laundry basket!" We laid the basket on her bed. She was reluctant to investigate the situaiton. "Get your dad. I am not going to deal with this!" We insisted until she finally took a peak. The first thing that came out of her mouth when she saw the basket was, "A puppy!" It was love at first sight. He definitely knew who his mommy was.
Countless memories in this past year and a near death experience makes me so grateful to have a pet. He was attacked by a much older dog just outside our back yard. His his ribs were pretty messed up and we thought he would die. That day still makes me emotional. I can remember him looking at us with those glazed eyes, in shock, and panting for air. He was put in an oxygen chamber because a rib had punctured his lung and he was not getting enough oxygen. After the surgery the vet told us he was worse than she had initial thought, but he is a fighter. I remember my sister calling me that Sunday morning while we were in church and she was in the emergency room with Chewbie. "What should we do Abby?" I knew we had no money to rescue him. I went with the obvious choice, "Let him go. We don't have that kind of money." She turned to give him one last goodbye and with all the effort in his little body, he stood up, wagged his tail, and gave a big glowing smile. He stole our hearts and out pocket book. But it is worth every penny when we walk through that door. He jumps high with excitement, even if we have only been gone 3 min. He circles your feet and demands attention as he rolls over and goes crazy until you give him belly rubs.
So they ask my what my puppy is. I respond, "He is a Yorkie with a Shitzu." Until today. While researching information about my puppy, I came across the word Shorkie. That my dog, he is a shorkie.