Turns out that old Chipster is Mr. Sex Machine. Our dog trainer says maybe he was used for breeding, and that is the only way he knows how to relate to another dog. It makes life complicated. Bear-ie wants to play, play play ("High Five! Both Hands!"), and Chipper wants to mount excitedly on any end of any dog of any gender, age or condition. So they have their own rooms, and come out to spend time with me (later today, US) in shifts.
Not only is Chip a Rake, he is thin as a rake too. He started coughing on Saturday, and the vet prescribed a steroid to keep his lungs from being congested. He seems to be feeling better today, kinda frisky (which I try to discourage); three more days of antibiotics, seven more days of dwindling prednisone, then another week and a half of forced quietude. Then ... tah-dah! He can go for walks and play, and mount every dog he meets (just kidding, I will try to keep him from doing that).