You, you 110lb (50Kg) piece of shit. You have only two jobs.
Bark at strangers. Since you’re scared of your own shadow as well as wind, rain, thunder, lightning, loud noises, bright lights, small kittens, and sudden movements, we had to get a little 15lb (7Kg) Boston Terrior Who can bark at strangers. They may laugh at her, but she’s keeping us informed, unlike you. Here I sit enduring one of her fearsomely awful farts just because of you–BAD DOG.[sup]1[/sup]
Keep squirrels out of the yard. For a while I thought you were doing that. I’d see a squirrel and say “Get the SQUIRREL!” and you’d run down in the yard barking up into the multitude of pecan tree that litter my yard like a blight (did I mention I was allergic to pecans?). So the squirrel would flee up a poison-nut tree. You’d come back, I’d praise you saying thing like: “who’s a good dog now!”–I didn’t know the real story.
3)[sup]2[/sup]
Yesterday I was in the kitchen, and I happened to look out the window. There you were in the shade of a poison-nut tree (avoiding your shadow, no doubt). Beyond you, directly where you appeared to be looking was, say, six or seven squirrels. Burying poison-nuts in the yard and in the flower pots I guess. Then you did that really loud yawn you do. That yawn that speaks volumes about your fat-assed-cat-shit-eating life. The squirrel stopped and looked at you. Then, they went back to what they were doing! They knew you, knew what you are, and knew what you’d do: NOTHING! I went out and told you to GET THE SQUIRRELS. You trotted out in the yard, probably apologizing to the squirrels as you went and they, probably because they saw me, ran up the trees and laughed at you[sup]3[/sup].
BAD, BAD, DOG.
[sup]1[/sup] I don’t call him “bad dog” to his face. He wouldn’t understand, of course. No physical discipline either, Ok?
[sup]2[/sup] I understand that the conventions of this board requires me to put a “Hi Opal” entry here since my list has only two elements. As Opal is a squirrel lover, I put that down here in the footnotes in deference to her feelings regarding squirrels.
[sup]3[/sup]. Sure, I told you you were a “good” dog, but I put it in quotes.
Hilarious, and I know how you feel. The only way my dog is going to help catch an intruder is if he tricks him into an overlong “tummy rub”. And you should see him drag me home double time when a hot air balloon goes overhead.
He will kill groundhogs & squirrels on sight though. Maybe I’ll rent him out to you.
I’ve found that shepherds and beagles are ‘good’ at chasing the small creatures. Teaching them is NOT necessary. Terriers, being rat dogs, are an excellent choice for squirrel duties.
On a similar note, my shepherd walked near her first herd of cattle last night. I guess they are wintering a herd next to the 200 unit apartment complex down the street (seriously). There is nothing funnier than watching a large dog confronted by a much larger animal for the first time. Make it 100 larger animals and it’s more fun than drunk monkeys with firearms.
Hahaha. The poor pooch has it tough, 'eh. If he always sits back and ignores your wishes and laughs at you, then I suspect your dog may have been a cat in his last life…and maybe the squirrels were too.
Damn, NotMrKnowItAll. I thought of pitting my dog for her unfailing vigilance. Squirrels, raccoons, chipmunks, birds, the UPS guy, the pride of lions on the Discovery Channel. And always in the same cadence.
Woof (pause) woof woof woof woof. Woof (pause) woof woof woof woof. Repeat until distracted with a chew toy.
I’d offer to switch but she just stopped barking, turned around and started biting her butt. I think she senses something.
Temped to make username joke regrading squirrels… naaaa.
What kind of POS dog is it? Terriers are great for bark at things. Things the family fox terrier has barked at include kids, hedgehogs, cats, horses (trying to nip their heels :eek:), motorcycles, a sloth-like 15 y.o. lab (stood there barking at her face for 30 mintues)and milk vans. Kind of useless when it comes to doing anything though. Is also a sucker for tummy rubs form total strangers too.
Heh, to my neurotic, hyper-sensitive best friend, Everything is a full-scale, holy-shit-the-world’s-coming-to-an-end, emergency. He hates birds with a passion so deep, I can only hope to comprehend it. He chased a resident woodpecker as he flew along the ground and into the fence, barking furiously all the while. The poor pecker knocked himself cold, and as the dust settled, my 75 pounds of wild-eyed teeth and fur took a sympathetic stand, and nosed the dazed bird around the gravel, until he lost interest. The bird recovered, and stumbled into the sunflower garden.
He’s got a bent for the mailman too, just absolutely hates him. That fact means that once a day, I get to flex my neuroses and clean the dried spittle and nose juice from the large picture window on the front (dirty windows make me, let’s just say, unconfortable) of the house. Kids, other dogs, squirrels, cats, tall grass, and the errant leaf or discarded wrapper are all triggers for my hyper-sensitive canine alarm system. Not to mention the oft-seen ‘nothings’ that trapse by his window on the world.
He never has been one to react to the telly, but he has a truly endearing habit of howling along (in tune, mind you) with a slide whistle, not matter the tone or pitch, he’ll match it. But as far as being a killer. Nah. He’s a lover, not a fighter.
Ah, yes. My former landlord had a German Pointer. He would stalk the Discovery Channel lions (it would take him a half hour to go from the lazy boy to the TV, he was trying so hard to be sneaky), then he’d point at the TV set.
He’d point at FatCat too. FatCat didn’t like it.
But NotMrKnowItAll, consider yourself lucky. My former landlord’s other dog used to bark at intruders. Bark at squirrels. Bark at geese. Bark at pigeons. Bark at bunnies. Bark at butterflies. Bark at bees. Bark at clouds. Bark at cars. Bark! Bark! Bark!
Your dog could be dumber…like stand as the base of the tree she chased a squirrel up for half an hour while the same fluffy tailed rodent roots around in the yard a few feet away. That’s what mine does.
And the barking? One dog in the 'hood barks and the whole choir MUST join in. My dogs are partial to the big yellow school bus, the UPS man and the regular mailman who talks to them. Don’t even get me started on the water delivery guy. One day, they will figure out how to get the door unlocked and he will be toast.
Alas, my dog is not at all like Courage. Courage does rise to the occasion and protects Muriel. My dog has proved himself a true coward.
Last Halloween, I was buying some last minute candy at the local grocery store. Those whole-head masks were on sale. I got the scarriest one–a likeness of GW Bush. I practiced saying “NUUUUCUUUULAAAAAAAR” all the way home. Once home, I donned the mask and this nice black cape with a red lining. Sneaking around the house to the french doors of the family room, I could see my wife and son in there with the “dog”. Quietly I unlocked the door, and jumped in screaming “NUUUUCUUUULAAAAR!” Well, my “dog” took one look at me, cried as if someone had gone after one of his tits with a pair of pliers, and ran from the room doing that repeated high-low whine all true cowardly dogs do. The verb ran is a bit charitable, as he actually dropped as low as he could and twinkle-toed it out of there. He left a trail off piss behind him as he went.
Lousy Dog.