Thursday, November 30, 2006
Da puppa Bobo
If I had a camera... unfortunately for you, I do not have a means to let you seeee what Iii see...
A dog, a dooog, chewing in the night, with his mind all set on a fight... Ok, so it's not really that. Neighbors Mark and Victor are on a long weekend holiday. And I have the puppa. Beaumont. He will gladly spend hours chewing on damn near anything you give him. This includes, among other things, a Kong with a hint of liver paste, a rag, a catnip mouse (one I somehow missed and verily wrested from his bulldog yap), Mr. One-Eye (a new addition to his moniker due to Bobo from a month ago... luckily the other eye passed without incident) Stinky, my hand and das Poog. I think he's starting to get tired. I'm probably wrong.
But hey. So far, so good. Bobo is now eviscerating Mr. "1-eye" Stinky, who may need saving here shortly. Gus just looks on like a disgusted older brother, sniffs Bobo's balls (which, for such a little Tiny, are HUGE) and then runs in circles in the living room. I think Gus misses his.
The cats, on the other hand, aren't backing down. Felix is perched on the back of the chair with his attitude fully flexed. Rufus is behaving normally, which means he's under the sofa scoffing at the entire show. And I am cracking up wondering how in the hell you entertain your dog's best friend who is here for a three-night sleepover. If they were kids, I'd order a pizza, rent a Squarebob Spongepants video and get drunk (kinda kidding).
As it is, I've got some Graziano Brothers' ravioli in the oven, 'My Name is Earl' is on the tube, and I'm thinking ahead to the hunkering down. Gus sleeps with me. He starts at the foot of the bed, then about ten minutes before my alarm goes off, there's poog ass in my face. It's a pretty interesting migration on his part and a darn rude way to start your day. But something tells me that with three of us in bed, this could change. Could be I might choose to spend the night in the kennel. Could be...
Who dat snappin' back? |
A dog, a dooog, chewing in the night, with his mind all set on a fight... Ok, so it's not really that. Neighbors Mark and Victor are on a long weekend holiday. And I have the puppa. Beaumont. He will gladly spend hours chewing on damn near anything you give him. This includes, among other things, a Kong with a hint of liver paste, a rag, a catnip mouse (one I somehow missed and verily wrested from his bulldog yap), Mr. One-Eye (a new addition to his moniker due to Bobo from a month ago... luckily the other eye passed without incident) Stinky, my hand and das Poog. I think he's starting to get tired. I'm probably wrong.
But hey. So far, so good. Bobo is now eviscerating Mr. "1-eye" Stinky, who may need saving here shortly. Gus just looks on like a disgusted older brother, sniffs Bobo's balls (which, for such a little Tiny, are HUGE) and then runs in circles in the living room. I think Gus misses his.
The cats, on the other hand, aren't backing down. Felix is perched on the back of the chair with his attitude fully flexed. Rufus is behaving normally, which means he's under the sofa scoffing at the entire show. And I am cracking up wondering how in the hell you entertain your dog's best friend who is here for a three-night sleepover. If they were kids, I'd order a pizza, rent a Squarebob Spongepants video and get drunk (kinda kidding).
As it is, I've got some Graziano Brothers' ravioli in the oven, 'My Name is Earl' is on the tube, and I'm thinking ahead to the hunkering down. Gus sleeps with me. He starts at the foot of the bed, then about ten minutes before my alarm goes off, there's poog ass in my face. It's a pretty interesting migration on his part and a darn rude way to start your day. But something tells me that with three of us in bed, this could change. Could be I might choose to spend the night in the kennel. Could be...
