Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Bad Boys Bad Boys

This may come as a shock to you, but my dogs are really bad sometimes.

I actually considered not posting anything about Gwynnie's untimely death because I was afraid people might judge me for failing to train my dogs effectively. (Oh, whoops. I guess I lied about it being a suicide. The truth is, she was murdered.) I mean we did train them, but I'm starting to think there are some things you just can't train out of a dog. Like being an a$$hole. (Oh, don't worry, it's okay because I didn't actually write the word. The kids won't know the difference.)

I'll be referring to the dogs by name in this post, so I thought I'd include some pictures for reference for those of you who don't Facebook stalk me religiously. (This is also my way of warning you early on that this post is about my dogs in case you'd rather go have an impromptu root canal than read one more post about my #$^%* dogs.) This is Bravo:

And this is Brutus:

Bravo had a vet appointment yesterday afternoon. I left work with just enough time to run home, pick him up and make it to the vet's office by 4:30, so I should have guessed that at about 4:15, both dogs would suddenly be in the mood for a quick sprint around the neighborhood. I grabbed Bravo first* because he's slower (and by that I mean fatter) and also more likely to get run over by a car right in front of me (and by that I mean he's dumb as a brick) than Brutus.

By the time I had wrangled him into the house, Brutus was nowhere in sight. I started doing that oh-so-subtle half-run, half-power walk you sometimes do when you're still in your work slacks and dress shoes and you're chasing your dog and you're starting to panic but you don't want anyone driving by to know anything's amiss.

"Oh. Just. Going for an awkwardly fast-paced stroll! Nothing to see here! BUT IF YOU SEE A HUSKY PLEASE GRAB HIM HE'S NICE."

Luckily some little boys happened to walk by and one of them was really fast, so before long everything was fine. I actually ended up making it to the vet on time, which is great because otherwise I don't know who I would have given all my money to.


*Okay, what I really did first was cuss really loud and then clap my hand over my mouth and pray that none of my neighbors heard me, 'cause a) that's not exactly the first impression I was hoping for and b) I'm pretty sure that particular combination of words just might give little old Mrs. Next Door a heart attack.

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