Tag Archives: dogs

Dog Ownership: An Eight-Foot Love Triangle

We’ve all heard it: a dog is “Man’s Best Friend.”

This is never more true than in my own house. We have an eight-foot triangle. See, I love my dog dearly, but she has made it abundantly clear in her almost twelve years that she doesn’t love me. She loves him, my husband.

And not in a oh-he’s-alright kind of way. In an I Dream of Jeanie I’ll do anything for you, master and may I lick between your toes for 25 minutes now, master? kind of way.

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I get a lot of shots of this, her rump.


Rejection on a professional or creative level is hard to take; rejection in relationships is torturous. But rejection by your dog, the one you’ve had since puppyhood, is the worst.

Sure, she wags her stubby tail and flops her ears back when I come home. For a minute. Like as a favor to me. After a few seconds, I see in her eyes a glimpse of Good enough? We done here? before she trots off to find him.

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And another rump.

If she sits by me on the couch (see how nice I am, she can sit on the couch!), the quickest way to have her leave is if I pet her. And who does she roll on her back for, showing her fuzzy tummy every morning? Him.

It’s not like my husband loves her more. In fact, I think I love her more, but he gives her more treats and more steak off his fork and well, she’s basically a cold-hearted food slut.

She’s so obvious about her preference that it’s possible I’ve gotten a tad resentful. It may be true I no longer fill up the water dish immediately or restock the dog biscuits. I have to protect my own heart, you know.

I hope to start anew some day, wipe the past clean and have my dog lavish me daily with affection.

Yes, some day I hope to get a new dog.

Does your dog show favorites? Tell me I’m not alone!

Where Dog Ownership Conflicts with Shoe Ownership

I am insane Duh, Wendy.

If we go by that definition of doing the same thing over and over while expecting a different result or perhaps even if we don’t use that definition.

Here’s what happens:
When I come in from a run with the dog and by “run” I may mean mostly walking, I take off my shoes (not that anyone else does around here…or not that I’m bitter) and put them here–
shoe basket

Later, every day at some point, the dog gets excited about something near the front door, evil brown truck, a dog getting walked, a raccoon ambling by, whatever. With her emotions overflowing, she then needs to put something in her mouth I have no idea where she could have learned this….
dog with shoeShe doesn’t chew it or eat unlike me; she just walks and wiggles around with it in her mouth.

Oh, that’s so cute, Wendy. That shouldn’t make you crazy!

Except that 9 times out of 10, the dog ends up like this–
griffon shoe distributor–which has earned her the title of “Shoe Distributor.”

This time I was lucky. It got dropped early on, not out in the weeds grass or piles of old leaves where I find it weeks later wet and 3 shades darker from the Pacific Northwest treatment.

The crazy enters when it’s time for me to go walk that very dog and either have 2 right shoes or 1 shoe from each pair (yes, I have left the house with two different shoes on) or 0 shoes. At which point I holler “What the hell?! Have you seen my other shoe??! Where is my other shoe??

And the Hubs says, without any show of even pretending to consider the matter, that stock comeback gem of husbands all around the planet: “I don’t know.”

So, all that *waves hand in large circular motion* makes me CRAZY.

And I keep putting my shoes in that basket.

And my dog is almost 12 years old.

I am insane.

Does this make me Charlie Brown?

Do you know what this is?
That is my dumb dog, a purebred, wire-haired pointing griffon who keeps barking to come in and then sits down outside when the door is opened for her.

I’m beginning to understand how Charlie Brown feels falling for that football Lucy keeps putting up to kick.

She barks to piss me off come in, and I, obediently and ironically like Pavlov’s dog, open the door, only to see this pose:
I’m not speaking to you.

I swear there was one time I cleaned her ears right after she came in. But that was months ago. Now, she’s just doing this to be a female dog.

I tried enticing with her favorite holiday toy, a singing doggie tree ornament a freaking collectible, only for sale for $99 on ebay now that woofs to the tune of Jingle Bells.Didn’t work.

In fact, I left the door open cuz I could yell swear words out to the whole neighborhood while still sitting inside, and that female dog silently stole the toy when I wasn’t looking and tossed it in the yard.

I suppose she has many, important doggy things to do out there, such as wrap her tongue around her entire snout.
She’s making me nuts but I promise to make it look like an accident.
Do you hear something?

A Fuzzy Christmas

Guess who gets almost as excited as the Kid about presents?
Is that for me? That one must be mine. Ooo, that one smells good. I might lick this one. Is that a toy for me? Could that be a bone for a good dog?

She sniffs, she licks, and she especially likes anything that squeaks or talks back to her, so she can, you know, have a conversation cuz she’s a libra, a communication sign.

In case you’re wondering and who wouldn’t?, her favorite toy is still that little singing dog ornament. Yes, I too am amazed that we still have this thing after all these years in one piece plus a coating of dried dog slobber!

As I write this, the dog just pressed her snout on it to make it bark a little song of Jingle Bells. Again.

So from her to you, woof woof woof woof woof woof…WOOF!

Are your pets excited about presents? Or did we get the weirdo here as usual?

when the sun comes out…by Becca the wirehaired pointing griffon

when the sun comes out, you might think it’s a good day to kill a stick and eat it because you can and you look cool, even though it hurts your gums.
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or recall with a chuckle that dumb squirrel you practically ate whole except that he was faster and can climb trees.
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but really what you want is to look pitiful so that your human will throw that dang ball for you and feed you that leftover piece of steak in the fridge that you swear you can smell outside right now.
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yes, the ball, that is most definitely what you want.
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and then, you want to beg some more to do it again, and again, and again…
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you are going to throw it, right? i can’t think of a reason why you wouldn’t.