Dog Blogging
Everybody is talking canine these days. Exador worries about his, Aunt B is singing with hers, Katherine abuses hers, Brittney listens to hers, and the Knucklehead medicates his. Between all this dog blogging, and my own brother thinking about getting one, I’m starting to think about it myself. I do miss having a dog, and I’m buying real estate next month so the rent problem is solved.
The brother has a problem with his dog buying dreams. The sister-in-law is deathly afraid of them. They seem to have come to an agreement that he’ll get a puppy and she’ll be comfortable with it as it grows up. He’s thinking pure bred because of the great dog my parents had until fairly recently. I was recently visiting the family and we were all trying to make the sister-in-law more comfortable with the idea of getting a bull mastiff by telling her about Titan (he had the name before the football team). It occurred to me at one point we were basically having a wake for our poor dead dog. So now you imaginary readers get to participate as well.
My parents got Titan as a W replacement. Or so the family joke goes. I moved out to go to college and about three months later they got my replacement. He had more personality than any dog I’ve ever met. Oh yeah, and he was a ginormous dog.
- Apparently he was on the wagon. If anyone opened a beer in his vicinity, or he caught a sniff of alcohol, he went nuts. Barking and glaring like only a recovering alcoholic could.
- He had a huge vacuum cleaner fetish. If anyone tried to run the vacuum cleaner in the house while he was around he barked and pounced on it. The only exception being if you ran it over him. Maybe it was just an unusual grooming habit because of the fur shedding.
- He used to love to sleep on my brother’s full motion waterbed. It was a trip watching this huge dog climb on a madly bouncing waterbed. It was a regular occurrence to hear someone fall off if the bed was already occupied when he tried to get on.
- He knew when you were trying to get him into trouble. He wasn’t allowed on the couch, and my mom is scary when you get into trouble. My brother and I used to make a game out of trying to get him on the couch. He climbed right up when nobody was home, but if my mom was in the other room he would just bark at you and swat you with a paw.
- He came within an inch of dieing as a puppy when he ‘marked’ my dad’s big screen TV one day when he was home alone.
- He was an amputee. Somehow the crazy dog got his tail run over by a car. Just his tail. It was very disturbing because there were bone shards and blood everywhere. In the end the vet had to amputate about 12 inches off. Everything on the low shelves was much safer.
But all this brings me back to the dilemma I was getting toward earlier. When I move next month I’ll be able to get a dog of my own. So do I go the pure breed route and get a bull mastiff? It may just be nostalgia, but I love the breed now. Or do I get a homeless dog who needs a place to crash?
Oh yeah, and does anyone wonder why a blog called Tiny Cat Pants has so many posts about a dog?
The brother has a problem with his dog buying dreams. The sister-in-law is deathly afraid of them. They seem to have come to an agreement that he’ll get a puppy and she’ll be comfortable with it as it grows up. He’s thinking pure bred because of the great dog my parents had until fairly recently. I was recently visiting the family and we were all trying to make the sister-in-law more comfortable with the idea of getting a bull mastiff by telling her about Titan (he had the name before the football team). It occurred to me at one point we were basically having a wake for our poor dead dog. So now you imaginary readers get to participate as well.
My parents got Titan as a W replacement. Or so the family joke goes. I moved out to go to college and about three months later they got my replacement. He had more personality than any dog I’ve ever met. Oh yeah, and he was a ginormous dog.
- Apparently he was on the wagon. If anyone opened a beer in his vicinity, or he caught a sniff of alcohol, he went nuts. Barking and glaring like only a recovering alcoholic could.
- He had a huge vacuum cleaner fetish. If anyone tried to run the vacuum cleaner in the house while he was around he barked and pounced on it. The only exception being if you ran it over him. Maybe it was just an unusual grooming habit because of the fur shedding.
- He used to love to sleep on my brother’s full motion waterbed. It was a trip watching this huge dog climb on a madly bouncing waterbed. It was a regular occurrence to hear someone fall off if the bed was already occupied when he tried to get on.
- He knew when you were trying to get him into trouble. He wasn’t allowed on the couch, and my mom is scary when you get into trouble. My brother and I used to make a game out of trying to get him on the couch. He climbed right up when nobody was home, but if my mom was in the other room he would just bark at you and swat you with a paw.
- He came within an inch of dieing as a puppy when he ‘marked’ my dad’s big screen TV one day when he was home alone.
- He was an amputee. Somehow the crazy dog got his tail run over by a car. Just his tail. It was very disturbing because there were bone shards and blood everywhere. In the end the vet had to amputate about 12 inches off. Everything on the low shelves was much safer.
But all this brings me back to the dilemma I was getting toward earlier. When I move next month I’ll be able to get a dog of my own. So do I go the pure breed route and get a bull mastiff? It may just be nostalgia, but I love the breed now. Or do I get a homeless dog who needs a place to crash?
Oh yeah, and does anyone wonder why a blog called Tiny Cat Pants has so many posts about a dog?
posted by W at 6:47 PM
1 Comments:
1. You should totally get a dog. And if you have a breed you know and love, stick with it, if that makes you happy.
2. While "Tiny Cat Pants" are funny, cats aren't so much. So, I write about the dog.
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