Notorious D.O.G.

I’ve never been a dog person.  The term ‘dog person’ is tough to define without alienating people and generally creating strife for yourself as dog people are quite loyal to themselves, their pack, and of course their co-pilot dogs.  In the past, when I’ve told people that ‘I am not a dog person’ it’s been followed by looks of scorn (it’s Colorodo) and the assumption I am a communist.  I haven’t seen or felt fervor at this level on an issue since the Coldwar and the universal distrust of the Soviets we shared as kids.  So eventually, I just stopped saying I wasn’t a dog person and began explaining in more precise terms what I didn’t like about dogs:   

 

For one, I’ve never trusted anything that is ‘that’ happy to see me.  It means the thing in question either wants something or well, doesn’t know me that well.

 

Two, I don’t pick up poop.  It’s Article #23 of my personal constitution - sandwiched between Article #22 (don’t eat your boogers) and Article 24 (don’t trust people that brush their teeth at lunch).  

 

Three, I am generally scared of dogs (or canines) – noting that the largest teeth in any mouth are actually named for these creatures.  This third factor by way of background is grounded in my experiences as a child as I was chased by a 180lb canine named George for several years of my life.

 

George was a St. Bernard, and not the kind with the small barrel cutely attached to its collar.  I suspected that George’s small barrel had once been filled with bourbon and that he had consumed it in a series of mad swigs…followed by a smashing of the barrel on his furry forehead.  Regardless, George’s house was positioned between my house and a few of my friends’ homes, requiring that we ride our banana seat Schwinns past George’s lair of terror at a very specific breakneck speed to ensure survival.  Certain details are sketchy, but I seem to remember that the precise speed to pass George’s house without certain destruction was exactly 32.4 mph, the upper limit for both the wheel set and frame of my 45 pound electric blue transporter. 

 

On occasion, a member of our peloton of terror wouldn’t make it. One of my friends has a particularly fond memory of hitting some gravel in front of George’s house at approximately 31.5 mph (note: not the required speed) and fishtailing back and forth…and, in slow motion, going over his handlebars.  As my friend recalls, he flew through the air in a suspended state of horror and noticed two things…. #1 – the sight of George lumbering up the driveway smelling like bourbon and #2 – the glance I gave him over my shoulder while I continued to pedal furiously.  Thus, I learned at an early age what my limits of friendship were – ‘yes, I will help you move’ but, ‘no, I will not save you from a large St. Bernard if you fall of your bike’.  This isn’t the Army, I will leave you behind and I may not even tell your mother. 

 

As you can see, I have some doggie baggage.  I’d been looking for away to shed these dog demons for some time when it occurred to me…why don’t I just go out and buy a dog?   So, that’s what I did – 7 pounds of French Bulldog puppy is currently curled up on my couch (note – I am not a Francophile and thought of calling her a Freedom Bulldog).   Her name is Rosebud….yes, like the sled.

 

To date, I’ve noticed a few things about Rosebud and dogs generally:

 

1. Dogs make an unsettling amount of eye contact.  While Cats will throw you a glance and carry on their way to destroy something you love or wait for you to fall down the steps….dogs just stare at you.  My dog does this so constantly that it reminds me of the movie Castaway - she is my tiny Wilson.  The psychology of being constantly stared at is quite deep and leads me to odd behavior like… making random small talk with the dog, making funny hand gestures to the dog, or occasionally growling.  I’ve found I like growling and the dog seems to as well.

 

2.   People like puppies.  This may be obvious but I had no idea how much talking one needs to do with total strangers when toting around a puppy. I’ve had people get off their bikes, stop their cars, and leave there children unattended on the corner all to come pet this small thing attached to the end of the rope I am holding. I am not accustom to this much small talk on the street and to be honest, I am not sure I am all that good at it.  For one, I am still a newbie dog person and am excited to communicate all of my newly found canine observations.  Take the following recent interaction,

 

Blonde Girl on Sidewalk – “Wow, she is SOOOO SWEEET, I just love her ears and oh my, she is so SMART and so <insert dog adjectives here>”.

 

Me – “yep, she sure is cool.  Do you know I can tell when she is going to poop because her behind looks a bit like a lifesaver right before she’s going to go?” <insert awkward silence>.

 

3.  Despite all the hubbub, having a puppy is ‘not’ like having a child. Children will turn on you.

 

 

 Rosebud is growing on me.  There goes the lifesaver, I gotta run.
 

Comments

[MamaJude]

I've really missed your blogging. So glad to read this. Rosebud is adorable, and I say this as a fellow "not a dog person." The kids are pining away for one. I said, "Here's a leash. If you walk this leash three times a day from now until next Spring, no matter the weather, I will get you a dog." So far, no takers.

[Chris]

I'm not a dog person either. We have a dog, Mary. I love her, but I don't like to touch her. My husband says he can relate...

[Blaiser]

This rocked. Loving the thread of your observations

[KLH]

You know when they stare at you, they're also clearly judging you and all you do in their presence.

Just sayin.