5 Reasons My Dog is Kind of a Dick
If you are a friend and/or a regular reader of this newsletter, you know that we are sort of dog people. Well, maybe a bit more than “sort of…”
We (my wife Elizabeth and I) have developed an affection for slightly damaged/flawed/abandoned/neglected shelter dogs over the years, who we adopt and then turn into full-fledged members of our families and into AKC-pedigreed prima donnas.
Dyson is no exception.
As you might know from a previous post, we adopted Dyson from our local shelter about a year ago.
And while we love him to pieces, it has slowly dawned on us that he is, indeed, a bit of a dick.
Here’s why:
1.) We buy him toys. Lots of toys. Balls and bones and stuffed cigars and squeaky buddies. But what does he enjoy chewing on most?
Ant bait.
Yep. Every spring, we get a few ants wandering through the house, so we put down ant bait and that takes care of them. This year, I placed the ant bait in VERY inaccessible places so that Dyson wouldn’t be tempted, but he managed to contort himself like a deranged cephalopod so that he could chow down on some delicious DDT. He was discovered by Elizabeth when she heard a loud “crrrrunching” sound, which was him noshing on the razor-sharp plastic casing that contained the poison.
Note that he walks by his basket full of toys at least 67x/day, but he almost had to break his own spine to reach the ant poison. Total dick move.
2.) He hides under his blankets when I practice my violin. I get it. I’m not that good. But my little buddy, who insists on following me around the house and always being within six feet of me, also insists on reminding me that the New York Philharmonic is not clamoring for me to audition. Or even mention them in my newsletter.
I would rather he leave the room for the duration of my practice session, but no. Every time I glance at the couch, he is buried under a pile of blankets. The minute he hears me putting my fiddle back in the case, he emerges, tail wagging, ready for a treat. Dickishness of the first order.
3.) This dog has a bladder made of iron. He can go 12, 13, 14 hours overnight without having to pee.
Except at dinner time. For some reason we have not yet been able to fathom, every evening between 6:00 - 8:00 PM, he insists on going out every 20 minutes. And, inevitably, no matter when he was last out, 39 seconds after we sit down to dinner, he walks over to the door, stares at us, his leash, the door, repeat, until someone gets up from their freshly plated supper and takes him out so he can dribble out a thimbleful of puggle pee. Just because. Grade “A” passive/aggressive dick behavior.
4.) To call him a fair-weather pooch would be unfair to every other dog on the planet. And the weather. If it’s below 60 or above 70, he’d rather not walk any further than is absolutely necessary to relieve himself. But it’s not even THAT simple. This weather strike extends to refusing to poop if there is ANY sign or hint of precipitation east of Dayton, Ohio, in the next 36 hours. And, AND!!!... if the weather is perfect (say, 68 and sunny), he will decide that rather than walk or go to the bathroom, he would prefer to lay down on the lawn for a nice sun nap. Über-dick.
5.) There’s no way to delicately phrase this last one, so I’ll just say it: He gets a big boner whenever he’s in the car. And he LOVES to go for car rides. Which is evident by his near-constant erection. On a personal level, it’s just mildly unnerving. If Elizabeth is not in the car, he rides shotgun and I’ll look next to me and he’ll be sitting there, calm and happy as can be, with his head out the window or staring lovingly at me… with a big ol’ boner. On a more serious, practical level, it makes it very hard (no pun intended) to go to the bank or coffee drive-thru because, well…
“Hi. Welcome to Dunkin’. What can I get you?”
“One cold brew with cold foam, please.”
“OK, please proceed to the next window.”
<pulls up to window>
“Hi, that will be $4.50. What a cute dog! Can I give him a … OH MY GOD!!!
So far, law enforcement has not been called, but it seems almost inevitable. The car boner is literally the most dickish thing he does. Every. Single. Time.
So, please, as I stated in a previous post – consider adopting from your local shelter. Because in spite of everything I just wrote, we wouldn’t have it any other way. (Except for maybe #5. And the violin thing. That really does sting…)