dogs – HampoLand

A Tragic Doggy Tale

We have three dogs and two lovely new couches. I bought the couches last week and I’m very proud of them. But the world is not the same not in our home.

I’m only going to write about two of our dogs today and I’ll change their names. I don’t want them to be upset by my story about them.

Bert is a white dog with brown spots. He’s some sort of pit bull mix, which is funny because I always swore I’d never have a pit bull. But God has a sense of humor. Bert showed up in our yard a few years ago. He’d been so abused he wouldn’t let us touch home for two or three weeks. Bert is an uncomplicated dog and now so happy with his life. His thick white tail wags constantly and thumps joyously on furniture and our legs. He sleeps on his back, untroubled by serious thought, and snores like a freight train.
Hamlet is a brown boxer mix who Lex rescued from starvation several years ago. He’s an exceedingly handsome dog with expressive ears and six toes, that kind of freak me out. He is hopelessly in love with Lex and I suspect he has rather complicated thoughts.

When the new couches were delivered all the dogs were very excited and sniffy. They watched as we tried out different positions, trying to discover “the perfect spot.” Then they all returned to their doggie lives. Except for Hamlet.

For several days he’s been very unhappy and out of sorts. He paces back and forth in front of the couches, annoyed that he’s not allowed to curl up on them. There are lots of other comfy places for the dogs, in the house. Rugs and doggy beds. They can even snuggle with Sandor in a real bed. But Hamlet doesn’t care about those places any more. He only wants to be on the new couches.

At night we literally have to put shoes and chairs on the couches to keep him off. If I walk into the kitchen, he immediately jumps into my spot. I tell him to get down and he moves very very slowly, obviously annoyed with me.

Sure, Bert made a move for the couches a couple of times. But we yelled at him, so he got down and has moved on. He doesn’t even care about the couches anymore.

Bert rolls and wiggles on his back, cheerfully scratching a hard to reach spot, while Hamlet sulks in front of the couches. Bert happily pesters me for a treat in the kitchen, while Hamlet stares dolefully at the off limit couches.

Bert and I have both tried to get Hamlet to play, but he refuses. I sit on the floor, looking into his handsome eyes and scratching his favorite spot. He ignores me. Hamlet is obsessed with the couches he can’t have. He has the Garden of Eden and all the delicious fruit, but only wants the forbidden apple.

The moral of the story? I don’t think God planned on all of us having everything. We each have different gifts and wonders to enjoy. Love what you have, add to your world, make it bigger and better if you want. But don’t lose a single day being jealous of those who have what you do not.

Be a Bert.

What Happens When You Treat Your Man Like A Dog?

I have a really good husband. We’ve been married for twenty or twenty two years. We both always forget. We also have two really wonderful dogs.

Aries is a German Shepard/Wolf hybrid. I thought I was buying a simple female German Shepard. A fat man in a red corvette lied to me.

And then there’s Spots. He’s a stocky white dog with weird brown spots. He’s a pit bull mix that showed up in our yard, emaciated, with cigarette burns on his head. I swore I would never have anything to do with a Pit Bull of any kind, but all this dog does is wag wag his branch like tail and he tries to make us happy.

Last night I was lying in bed watching a PBS show about barns in Arkansas. Spots looked deep into my eyes and I started rubbing his silky ear. “Look at those pretty spots on your ears. That one looks like an island, that one looks kinda like Cuba and that one looks like a water bottle. You have the prettiest spots, Spots.”

His club of a tail thumped heavily. He was in doggie heaven. So, he rolled on his back and snorted cheerfully.

A few minutes later Spots rolled over to stare at me again and I started rubbing his nose. Slowly, I ran my thumb down, between his eyes and I said, “You are so handsome. Look at your weird eyes and think neck and sausage like tail.” In less than a minute he was asleep. So happy to be loved.

When was the last time I rubbed Alex’s ears? I don’t think I ever have. Have I commented on his nose or ears lately….last week I told him I was going to trim his Eisenstein eyebrows or shave them off in his sleep. And what have I ever said about his tail? Maybe years ago.

You see where I’m going? If we treated the people we love like the pets we love the world might be better. Man, I would love it if Alex stroked my hair, scratched my neck or told me I was so beautiful and sweet, even though my breath smelled like roadkill.

I need to rethink good behavior, bad behavior and our reward system.

Sure, Spots and Aries give me unconditional love. But so does Alex.

Dogs Hate Cabbage…and Cauliflower and Mushrooms

theo eats girl — dogs really like meat, like this girls hand

My dog, Theo, hates carrots. And he hates peas, green beans, apples, oranges, grapes, bananas, artichokes and squash. He’s a big dog and he doesn’t care for fruits or vegetables. When I throw him a slice of kiwi, he catches it then instantly drops the chunk. He looks at me with watery brown eyes and says, ‘What the hell was that? It wasn’t meat, why did you throw that hunk of slime at my face?” Then, in disgust, he will take a nap.

Now, I’m not a vet or a pet specialist, I didn’t even stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night, but I believe my dog does not need fruits, veggies or grains in his dog food. He’s a freaking carnivore so why do pet food companies keep trying to convince me Theo needs corn and tomatoes? Why do guys dressed like chefs tell me Theo wants gourmet meals full of pasta and zucchini? I have a garden and the dog never goes near it, not even to pee.

I think the dog food companies are trying to sell me on Theo’s need for collard greens and rice because it’s a cheap filler. I think the dog food companies are trying to trick me and Theo. But we’re not falling for it. We know that fake chef with the tiny dog doesn’t know jack about Theo and his meaty needs.

Theo just told me he’ll never mess with my garden, but the cute bunny that keeps nibbling on the broccolli plant is looking a whole lot like breakfast.