标签: dog

My wife, Gina The Gorgeous, is quite fond of animals. She has two stupid dogs and two stupid cats. How stupid are they? Well, allow me to show you this video of the dogs that I made a couple of years ago.   But I fear we are getting ahead of ourselves, so let's return to the tortuous tale I have to tell. Gina has tremendous skill as an interior decorator. She's told me so on many an occasion, so it must be true. All joking aside, Gina really is great at this stuff. As one simple example, when we moved into our current house, I unpacked the boxes of books and loaded them -- along with a variety of photos and sundry knick-knacks -- onto the bookshelves in the study. It took me hours. Sad to say, however, the result was a bit of a "dog's dinner," as it were. Then Gina breezed in and spent about 15 minutes re-arranging things, moving a book from "here" to "there" or a picture from one shelf to another, and it was like she had waved a magic wand -- a beam of sunlight shone through the window, the birds in the trees outside started trilling, and everything looked like it was in the place it was meant to be and all of the books and other objects came together as a harmonious whole.   Gina is a big fan of cushions. We have cushions everywhere. And it's not the same cushions all the time -- ours are seasonal. Woe betide us if the summer cushions are still on display when fall arrives, or the fall cushions are flaunting themselves during the winter months, or the winter cushions are gracing our chairs when spring comes knocking at the door. If Gina spots an interesting cushion while she's out and about, then it's like watching Arnold Schwarzenegger in The Terminator -- you can almost see the calculations going on behind her eyes -- range to target, optimum route to target, any potential competition in the store who might be interested in the same cushion, and so forth. It can be a bit scary, if the truth be told.     When I was young and foolish, I didn't realize how complicated this sort of thing could be. I now know that you can't simply purchase a cushion and then plonk it on a chair or a sofa -- it's more like a complicated jigsaw where each cushion forms part of a larger display. Actually, now I come to think about it, it's more like a game of musical chairs in which the cushions chase each other from room to room until the music stops, but the music exists only in Gina's mind.   When I return home from work and see a new cushion sitting on the kitchen table following one of Gina's shopping trips, I cringe inside, because I know my world is going to spend the next few days transmogrifying itself around me. (Did you ever see the movie Dark City ? Can someone please pass me my dried frog pills?)   But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about...   As a mentioned earlier, Gina has two cats. One of them is a Maine Coon. She calls it Drummer, but I think of it as Harrogate (if I think of it at all). Do you know how big a Maine Coon cat can grow? I had no clue, but now I'm starting to live in fear. I don't know the person in the picture below -- I found this on Google Images -- but the cat looks just like our Drummer-Harrogate in terms of its size and its markings. The really scary thing is that he's only just turned one year old (I believe they keep growing until they are four!).     It has to be said that Drummer-Harrogate is good natured -- he barely beats up on the two stupid dogs at all. It also has to be acknowledged that he is a curious cat. He sticks his nose into everything, and he's constantly on patrol looking to see if anything has changed since his last patrol. You can hear him gliding stealthily around the house inspecting things in the middle of the night. (I have rather good hearing -- to me it sounds like a large man tap-dancing in work boots; by comparison, Gina is a heavy sleeper and knows not the horrors of the night.) At least once a week, sometime in the darkness before the dawn, a resounding crash will emanate from somewhere in the house. This is where I put my head under my pillow and whimper, because I know that one of Gina's vases or ornaments has shrugged off this mortal coil, which means I can look forward to days of furnishings being rearranged around me until a new harmonious balance is reached.   All of this has led me to contemplate the creation of some form of cat deterrent on the basis that if curiosity doesn't kill Drummer-Harrogate I might be tempted to take over. I'm thinking this deterrent would have to be something small and inexpensive -- cheap enough that I could place one or two on each of our tables and shelves (anywhere there's a breakable object) and small enough that they won't impinge on one's consciousness.   But how should this deterrent work? A 50,000V electric shock initially had its attractions, until I realized that Gina would apply it to me if she ever found out. Vaporization by high-powered lasers is also a no-no for much the same reason. Teleportation to another dimension or the temporal equivalent into another time zone would be tempting, but it's beyond my capabilities at the moment. I've heard that cats don't like unexpected noises like a sledge hammer dropping on them from a great height, so I was thinking of something that emitted a "Pssst" sound when Drummer-Harrogate got too close. But then we come back to the curiosity thing -- knowing this monster little scamp, it's just as likely that he would end up collecting my "deterrents" as a hobby.   The other day Drummer-Harrogate managed to jump up onto a high buffet -- way higher than I thought he was capable -- and the little b###### rascal knocked my animatronic robot eyes to the floor.   I know this wasn't a malicious act -- he's just a great big clumsy lummox -- but I have to admit that there was some gnashing of teeth and rending of garb that day. Suffice it to say that the radiance of my smile has yet to lighten his life once again. I'm starting to get desperate. Any ideas?

My wife, Gina The Gorgeous, loves animals. She has two stupid dogs and two stupid cats. How stupid are they? Well, allow me to show you this video of the dogs that I made a couple of years ago.     But I fear we are getting ahead of ourselves, so let's return to the tortuous tale I have to tell. Gina has tremendous skill as an interior decorator. She's told me so on many an occasion, so it must be true. All joking aside, Gina really is great at this stuff. As one simple example, when we moved into our current house, I unpacked the boxes of books and loaded them -- along with a variety of photos and sundry knick-knacks -- onto the bookshelves in the study. It took me hours. Sad to say, however, the result was a bit of a "dog's dinner," as it were. Then Gina breezed in and spent about 15 minutes re-arranging things, moving a book from "here" to "there" or a picture from one shelf to another, and it was like she had waved a magic wand -- a beam of sunlight shone through the window, the birds in the trees outside started trilling, and everything looked like it was in the place it was meant to be and all of the books and other objects came together as a harmonious whole.   Gina is a big fan of cushions. We have cushions everywhere. And it's not the same cushions all the time -- ours are seasonal. Woe betide us if the summer cushions are still on display when fall arrives, or the fall cushions are flaunting themselves during the winter months, or the winter cushions are gracing our chairs when spring comes knocking at the door. If Gina spots an interesting cushion while she's out and about, then it's like watching Arnold Schwarzenegger in The Terminator -- you can almost see the calculations going on behind her eyes -- range to target, optimum route to target, any potential competition in the store who might be interested in the same cushion, and so forth. It can be a bit scary, if the truth be told.     When I was young and foolish, I didn't realize how complicated this sort of thing could be. I now know that you can't simply purchase a cushion and then plonk it on a chair or a sofa -- it's more like a complicated jigsaw where each cushion forms part of a larger display. Actually, now I come to think about it, it's more like a game of musical chairs in which the cushions chase each other from room to room until the music stops, but the music exists only in Gina's mind.   When I return home from work and see a new cushion sitting on the kitchen table following one of Gina's shopping trips, I cringe inside, because I know my world is going to spend the next few days transmogrifying itself around me. (Did you ever see the movie Dark City ? Can someone please pass me my dried frog pills?)   But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about...   As a mentioned earlier, Gina has two cats. One of them is a Maine Coon. She calls it Drummer, but I think of it as Harrogate (if I think of it at all). Do you know how big a Maine Coon cat can grow? I had no clue, but now I'm starting to live in fear. I don't know the person in the picture below -- I found this on Google Images -- but the cat looks just like our Drummer-Harrogate in terms of its size and its markings. The really scary thing is that he's only just turned one year old (I believe they keep growing until they are four!).     It has to be said that Drummer-Harrogate is good natured -- he barely beats up on the two stupid dogs at all. It also has to be acknowledged that he is a curious cat. He sticks his nose into everything, and he's constantly on patrol looking to see if anything has changed since his last patrol. You can hear him gliding stealthily around the house inspecting things in the middle of the night. (I have rather good hearing -- to me it sounds like a large man tap-dancing in work boots; by comparison, Gina is a heavy sleeper and knows not the horrors of the night.) At least once a week, sometime in the darkness before the dawn, a resounding crash will emanate from somewhere in the house. This is where I put my head under my pillow and whimper, because I know that one of Gina's vases or ornaments has shrugged off this mortal coil, which means I can look forward to days of furnishings being rearranged around me until a new harmonious balance is reached.   All of this has led me to contemplate the creation of some form of cat deterrent on the basis that if curiosity doesn't kill Drummer-Harrogate I might be tempted to take over. I'm thinking this deterrent would have to be something small and inexpensive -- cheap enough that I could place one or two on each of our tables and shelves (anywhere there's a breakable object) and small enough that they won't impinge on one's consciousness.   But how should this deterrent work? A 50,000V electric shock initially had its attractions, until I realized that Gina would apply it to me if she ever found out. Vaporization by high-powered lasers is also a no-no for much the same reason. Teleportation to another dimension or the temporal equivalent into another time zone would be tempting, but it's beyond my capabilities at the moment. I've heard that cats don't like unexpected noises like a sledge hammer dropping on them from a great height, so I was thinking of something that emitted a "Pssst" sound when Drummer-Harrogate got too close. But then we come back to the curiosity thing -- knowing this monster little scamp, it's just as likely that he would end up collecting my "deterrents" as a hobby.   The other day Drummer-Harrogate managed to jump up onto a high buffet -- way higher than I thought he was capable -- and the little b###### rascal knocked my animatronic robot eyes to the floor.   I know this wasn't a malicious act -- he's just a great big clumsy lummox -- but I have to admit that there was some gnashing of teeth and rending of garb that day. Suffice it to say that the radiance of my smile has yet to lighten his life once again. I'm starting to get desperate. Any ideas?  

If you can do the following: ...start the day without caffeine ...always be cheerful, ignoring aches and pains, ...resist complaining and boring people with your troubles ...eat the same food every day and be grateful for it ...understand when your loved ones are too busy to give you any time ...take criticism and blame without resentment ...conquer tension without medical help ...relax without alcohol ...sleep without the aid of drugs Then you are probably the family dog!   Handle every stressful situation like a dog: If you can't eat it or play with it, then pee on it and walk away :-)

My friend Alex in Atlanta showed me one of the funniest videos I've watched on You Tube. This isn't a large, expensive production piece or anything. It's more of a home video POV (Point of View) video from the perspective of a guy chatting to his dog. The guy is talking about the food he found in his fridge and what he did with it. As the dog's mouth move you hear some other voice giving responses. For example: Man: I just went to the fridge and opened up the meat drawer. Dog: What was in there? Man: You know that bacon that tastes of maple? Dog: The maple kind? Yeah? Man: Well I took that out and I "I know someone who would like this ... me ... so I ate it!" Dog: Arrgghhh! There's much more. The timing of the voice and the dog's mouth and head movements is spot on and the dog's "voice?" is perfect... just the right tones of desire and despair (actually it sounds just like I do if someone tells me that they've just eaten the last piece of bacon)

Over the years I've seen a lot of 'Diaries belonging to the Cat' and 'To-do lists for the Dog' type messages going around the Internet, but this was a new one for me and it made me smile so I thought I'd share it...   Dear God: Is it on purpose our names are the same, only reversed?   Dear God: Why do humans smell the flowers, but seldom, if ever, smell one another?   Dear God: When we get to heaven, can we sit on your couch? Or is it still the same old story?   Dear God: Why are there cars named after the jaguar, the cougar, the mustang, the colt, the stingray, and the rabbit, but not ONE named for a Dog? How often do you see a cougar riding around? We do love a nice ride! Would it be so hard to rename the 'Chrysler Eagle' the 'Chrysler Beagle'?   Dear God: If a Dog barks his head off in the forest and no human is there to hear him, is he still a bad Dog?   Dear God: We Dogs can understand human verbal instructions, hand signals, whistles, horns, clickers, beepers, scent ID's, electromagnetic energy fields, and Frisbee flight paths. What do humans understand?   Dear God: Are there mailmen in Heaven? If there are, will I have to apologize?   Dear God: Let me give you a list of just some of the things I must remember to be a good Dog.   1. I will not eat the cats' food before they eat it or after they throw it up. 2. I will not roll on dead seagulls, fish, crabs, etc., just because I like the way they smell. 3. The Litter Box is not a cookie jar. 4. The sofa is not a 'face towel'. 5. The garbage collector is not stealing our stuff. 6. I will not play tug-of-war with Dad's underwear when he's on the toilet. 7. Sticking my nose into someone's crotch is an unacceptable way of saying 'hello'. 8. I don't need to suddenly stand straight up when I'm under the coffee table 9. I must shake the rainwater out of my fur before entering the house – not after. 10. I will not come in from outside and immediately drag my butt across the carpet. 11. I will not sit in the middle of the living room and lick my crotch. 12. The cat is not a 'squeaky toy' so when I play with him and he makes that noise, it's usually not a good thing. P.S. Dear God: When I get to Heaven may I have my testicles back?