Friday, September 19, 2003
Just a rant about my dog
Why do I even bother? Really. Do I think that my words will somehow carry the weight to change anything? To effect anyone? To stop a war or prevent starvation?
Probably not. With all the "bloggers" out there you, the reader, have enough to look at without adding my page to your list of stops. Eventually, maybe I will find something that amuses you to the point of returning again and again. Eventually maybe I will have links that are important to you or other links will bring you here.
On the other hand. Maybe I am just writing this for me.
It is a beutiful sunny day today and I just got back from taking the dog for a w-a-l-k. He had to come to the office today as he was sick this morning and I did not want to leave him home alone all day. "Alone all day!", I hear you think, "What kind of sick bastard leaves his dog home all day?". Well, I do. And he's used to it. I am certain he would like it better if there were someone in the house with him from 9 till 5 or someone to walk him at lunch-time but, you know what, he is used to it. He plans his own meal times (I free feed him) and has grown accustomed to a meal when I get home and a meal before bed. His dish stays full but he leaves it alone during the day until he is certain I am home and he can get out to answer the calls of nature.
There is some fear, or so I am told, of "bladder stretching" which leads to trouble holding it in later in life. Perhaps this is true but he is generally good about water too. He knows the schedule. On weekdays he is keen to get out in the morning and on weekends he generally sleeps in till about 10:00, knowing, somewhere in his tiny doggy brain, that there is no rush to get outside before I leave and take with me his ability to open the door to the yard.
In many ways, he is not as stoopid as many people I know. He certainly is better at looking after himself than a young child. He stays out of trouble and has his rituals. One is, of course, the post-man, who causes the dog no end of grief. On weekdays when I have been home, the dog waits with one ear half-cocked for the sound of the boot on the porch steps heralding the man in blue's arival. Then it is all rushing and growls to the sofa in the living room to watch and bark as the mailman comes out of the porch and leaves the yard. Usually there is a small, disgruntled "wuh-hoof" as the postman passes from site and then it is back to bed for the dog. His daily chore complete. Once again he has kept that strange guy from entering the house. Once again he has fulfilled his duty to me.
Once again he has been up on the coach without anyone scolding him.
The rest of the dog's day is spent in a fairly deep sleep. Deep to the point where some days, upon my return, he does not even hear me come in. Other days, he stays on the bed and waits for me to get upstairs before jumping up and wagging hello. On those days he looks at me as if to say "I would have barked but I knew it was you."
Today in the office he is bored. He is probably a bit worried about what will happen to the post-man if he is not home to shout "Hey! Hey! Hey!" ad nauseum.
Which brings me back to why he is lying on his dog bed in my office in the first place, whining when I speak to people on the phone.... nausea. Poor little guy.
Why do I even bother? Really. Do I think that my words will somehow carry the weight to change anything? To effect anyone? To stop a war or prevent starvation?
Probably not. With all the "bloggers" out there you, the reader, have enough to look at without adding my page to your list of stops. Eventually, maybe I will find something that amuses you to the point of returning again and again. Eventually maybe I will have links that are important to you or other links will bring you here.
On the other hand. Maybe I am just writing this for me.
It is a beutiful sunny day today and I just got back from taking the dog for a w-a-l-k. He had to come to the office today as he was sick this morning and I did not want to leave him home alone all day. "Alone all day!", I hear you think, "What kind of sick bastard leaves his dog home all day?". Well, I do. And he's used to it. I am certain he would like it better if there were someone in the house with him from 9 till 5 or someone to walk him at lunch-time but, you know what, he is used to it. He plans his own meal times (I free feed him) and has grown accustomed to a meal when I get home and a meal before bed. His dish stays full but he leaves it alone during the day until he is certain I am home and he can get out to answer the calls of nature.
There is some fear, or so I am told, of "bladder stretching" which leads to trouble holding it in later in life. Perhaps this is true but he is generally good about water too. He knows the schedule. On weekdays he is keen to get out in the morning and on weekends he generally sleeps in till about 10:00, knowing, somewhere in his tiny doggy brain, that there is no rush to get outside before I leave and take with me his ability to open the door to the yard.
In many ways, he is not as stoopid as many people I know. He certainly is better at looking after himself than a young child. He stays out of trouble and has his rituals. One is, of course, the post-man, who causes the dog no end of grief. On weekdays when I have been home, the dog waits with one ear half-cocked for the sound of the boot on the porch steps heralding the man in blue's arival. Then it is all rushing and growls to the sofa in the living room to watch and bark as the mailman comes out of the porch and leaves the yard. Usually there is a small, disgruntled "wuh-hoof" as the postman passes from site and then it is back to bed for the dog. His daily chore complete. Once again he has kept that strange guy from entering the house. Once again he has fulfilled his duty to me.
Once again he has been up on the coach without anyone scolding him.
The rest of the dog's day is spent in a fairly deep sleep. Deep to the point where some days, upon my return, he does not even hear me come in. Other days, he stays on the bed and waits for me to get upstairs before jumping up and wagging hello. On those days he looks at me as if to say "I would have barked but I knew it was you."
Today in the office he is bored. He is probably a bit worried about what will happen to the post-man if he is not home to shout "Hey! Hey! Hey!" ad nauseum.
Which brings me back to why he is lying on his dog bed in my office in the first place, whining when I speak to people on the phone.... nausea. Poor little guy.
