Thursday, July 13, 2006

How stupid am I?

Oh good grief, I went looking at dogs on the internet.

First of all, my Big cannot be replaced.

Second of all, I am considering being done with dogs -- we do have a second dog now, but he's getting older and he's always been "the dumb one" (sweet, but stupid. And sometimes nervous and he likes to run away. We work at not giving him survivor's guilt, but I'm not sure it's working).

"You don't want a puppy. This too shall pass, this too shall pass, this too shall pass..."

Rich is thinking the opposite end of the spectrum this time and he wants a small dog -- a Miniature Pincer to be exact. I looked them up and they have minimal health problems. The things I'm not about are the barking and the 'keep all the little stuff off of the floors and possibly even the counter tops'.

He has no idea what that means, but what it means is -- this thing eats buttons and crayons and power puff key chains and tinsel and stray threads and coins and all the things you never considered a hazard now hold the potential to keep you up all night with a crapping dog (or worse).

I know because I had a pug once -- it wasn't my fault, I didn't get one on purpose -- it was my sister's dog and she moved to a place where she couldn't have the dog -- that story. Roxanne the pug was endearing, but oh so full of trouble. She once pulled the table cloth from the table and ate an entire box of chocolates. The cure was to have her drink peroxide. The results were straight out of a Monty Python movie, complete with lots of running and lots of projectile vomit.

She also didn't come with a shut off signal for when she was full. She was like a goldfish -- she would eat to the point of death if you let her. One day I came home from work and she had gotten into the cupboard where I kept her food. It was a giant green bag of IAMS (you can afford the good stuff when your dog requires a half a cup of food a day). There she was -- she had ripped open the bag and was laying on top of the food, panting and looking very pregnant -- her belly was hard to the touch. I thought she may burst when I moved her.

And those little bug eyed dogs -- apparently their eyes pop out fairly easily. The neighbor's German Shepherd didn't help with it's brute use of force, but still...Her friggin eye came out.

Eyes don't hang by veins like in the movies, and they aren't as round as you would think either -- they kind of jut out of the socket and sit all jutted and bulged on the outside of the eye socket.

Her final end came quickly when she decided she was going to take on a raccoon. She went missing from the front yard and my boyfriend at the time found her -- I never had to see it. Those little dogs think they are big and that doesn't always bode well for them. A charmed life, hers was not.

Izzy may have had an ill fated end, but she had a great life right up to those last two days. I know that wasn't just because she was a big dog...

My grandparents always had success with the little dogs, but I just don't know if they are for me. One thing I do know about me though is that sooner or later I will own another dog. The entire family wants a little dog -- a tiny dog.

It's too soon, but what's with me? I was looking at puppies -- it's in there -- the puppies have sparked a desire.

Puppies -- naughty -- lots of work -- no puppies now.

Maybe some kind of Min Pin mix might have something to offer...


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