The woods… or, as my dog likes to call it, ‘the other puking place.’
Warning: This article contains gross descriptions not safe for lunchtime.
This… is my dog, Boo.
“Awwwww…” they croon, “isn’t she CUUUTE!”
Oh yes, I smile, through my slightly clenched jaw.
She’s just… adorable.
To look at.
To pet.
And to fuss.
And to take for walks…
Boo is just awesome at walking.
She’s one of those sweet natured puppies that everyone loves, because she will run up to complete strangers, tail wagging, tongue lolling, bum wiggling, (don’t ask me what that’s about) and people will immediately want to love her and squeeze her and take her home.
In all her ten years on the planet, I don’t think she’s ever raised a lip to anyone.
Even the vet.
Although she’s definitely scratched his name off the Christmas Card list for using a thermometer without warning in a very tender place.
I’ve never seen a dog climb a wall before.
And he didn’t even buy her dinner first.
What Boo isn’t awesome at, is controlling her impulsive eating disorder.
Folks, when I tell you that Boo will eat anything that isn’t nailed down, I mean, she will eat anything.
Old egg shells from the compost heap. Compost. Bird poop off the patio.
Dead frogs.
Trash.
This is extremely frustrating for two reasons.
One: She’s excellent off-leash. She always stays at least within 10 feet of my walking distance, meandering about on her little feet, tippy-tapping on the pavements, poking her face into people’s yards, but always coming back to heel when I call.
“Don’t go far!” is my call. And she returns.
I never call her by her name unless I have to.
Why? Because my Dad used to train Police Dogs, (K-9s to those across the pond) and his secret was to never use common training words because other people might then take control of your dog.
His training words were FLAT (sit), FLATTER, (lie down) and FLATTERSTILL (head on paws).
He had others, but I digress.
Two: Once she finds said random object and eats it, she is really ill.
She literally pukes herself inside out. Usually without warning or sound.
I have had rugs fresh from the delivery driver that didn’t last the hour.
And poop! You’ve never seen anything like it.
Well, maybe you have if you’ve had very tiny babies. Like newborns, it has a colour spectrum all of its own.
I think you get the picture.
But despite her strange, unsanitary addictions, her revolting regurgitations and her recalcitrant rug-wrecking, she is adorable.
And we love her.
