Monday, May 15, 2006

Happy Birthday, Duff!

Today is the Monster's birthday!!

(This post will probably annoy you if you don't care for dogs, but my brother asked for pictures.)

Duff is now eight.
He is one of the smartest dogs I've known, nonetheless, he has:

- Eaten half a tennis ball. surgery to relieve his impacted intestines = $1600.

- Attacked the hapless rattler. covered that here.

- Stung by a scorpion (sort of his shamanistic initiation part 2, one being the snake).

- Broken out my bedroom window five times trying to get at squirrels, the neighborhood terror, foolishly named "Buddha," and who knows what else. The third time he sliced open a vein in his front right paw. The house looked like the Manson Murders, as he ran from my bedroom and hurled himself against the plate glass in the front door (something he does when he doesn't want someone coming in. Maybe he averted a break in), then into the kitched, etc. My pillows and bedding were soaked. There was blood on the walls, in pools on the hardwood floors, and smearing the aforementioned glass. I wised up (after $300 vet bill), and installed plexiglass. It looks a little trashy, but he's not hurt himself the last two times he's broken it. Fortunately we've gone two years without further incident. My toes are crossed.

- Been attacked at least four times by other males who weren't happy to find the Duff large and "intact." They started it, I promise, but he finished it. A prticulary bad one was with Buddha, who has bitten two neighbors and kept a guy trapped in his house up over the hill. My secret nickname for that dog is "Namaste Motherfucker!" Another was a golden retriever who became jealous when his master tried to pet Duff. "Louis," sorry to say, lost a square cm chunk of his ear. It lay like a scrap on the sidewalk, feathers still attached. The owners weren't pleased. They tried to get me to pay, but "my dog didn't aggress," I said. "But our dog got hurt," they whined. I genuinely felt badly, but that ain't the law and I don't have much extra cash to give to affluent Hollywood Hills couples who don't carefully tend to their animals. I guess they couldn't get the Acura detailed for the following two months. I called my boy "Mike Tyson," for awhile after that.

- He has a couple of holes from the bitches, too. He didn't fight back in those cases, but there is a permanent divit in the left side of his snout from Sadie, the irascible Aussie.

- Despite the existing evidence, is beloved in the neighborhood, but canines and humans alike. He has two local nicknames, "Warren Beatty," because the ladies love him, and "Luggage Head," because my sportswriter friend says his head's so big you could pack it for a trip.

- This moose loves little dogs and puppies, and will groom them. He really is a good natured sort, and will let any friendly and playful dog dominate him, particularly little ones. Shares his food.

- Is generally quite mellow, except that he has become an unrelenting pain in the ass in the mornings, ever since RPP moved in and takes him hiking most every day. If she moves her little toe at 7 am, he bursts out through my bedroom door to find her.

- Gets all the table scraps, but won't eat any vegetables excepting the potato, or corn if it's in something.
- Dislikes chicken unless it's smothered in sauce. This worries me about chicken.

- Will not step on any sort of metal grate or manhole or elevator cover in the street or sidewalk. Cannot be dragged across it.

- When scolded, will drop to his side in pseudo-submission, but invariably his leg will pop open, asking to have his belly rubbed. It's complete insubordination.

- Gets a hard-on in the car. Every time. Don't know why.

- Despite the fact that he will follow me from room to room in the house, cannot hear or recognize me at the park

- Loves his toys to the point that I think he might actually mistake them for living creatures. Kitty, who has been around from the start, is number one.
Purple hippo and Hedgehog vie for second. One of the three is generally brought to bed in the evenings. He will sometimes inexplicably whimper over them, like his heart hurts. He also more rarely tries to shake the stuffings out of them, but mostly he cuddles and grooms them. It reminds me of former Fearsome Foursomer (say that five times fast!), Rosie Grier singing "It's Alright to Cry" in the 70s.

- Is well behaved and unterritorial at parties.
Mostly, he'll find a spot and crash. Sometimes it's in the middle of the dance floor.

- He loves Levi, right down to his nubbin.


Broken said...

I think I love your dog.

GrizzBabe said...

...Despite the fact that he will follow me from room to room in the house, cannot hear or recognize me at the park...

So like most male creatures, he has selective hearing. I'm with Broken, I love your dog too.

The Frito Pundito said...

I knew someone with a pit bull that had had to have a tennis ball removed from his intestines at least three times. I suggested that they should put a zipper in for future occurences. Failing that, he should at least get the fourth one free.

whosyourhuckleberry said...

Happy belated B-day Duff...