An Old Dog New Tricks

Perhaps the title is a bit misleading, as no tricks are learned. Rather, this old dog (me) finally learned what many knew years ago. If you've known me long enough, perhaps you've heard me make the following boast: "Yeah, I think I could take a dog in a fight." I would say this half jokingly, but in every joke, there's a little bit of truth.

My reasoning, I believe, was sound. Even Auburn, a supposedly menacing, powerful rottie, weighs only 100 pounds. That's less than Ashley (sorry hun), and not to brag, but I'm pretty sure I could take Ashley in a wrestling match due to my 50+ pound weight advantage (provided she promises to not hit below the belt). People would argue, "But the dog can run really fast at you and pounce." My response? I'd simply charge right back at the dog, knowing my momentum is more than his and let physics take over.

Of course, I tended to overlook a few things. First, there is a wealth of empircal data which clearly shows in the showdowns featuring man-v-dog (excluding matches where chiahuahuas represented the canines), the dog usually comes out the victor. I discarded this data, as I figured no one as savvy as me ever got involved in a dog fight. I also looked past the data point I obtained from John Q. Policeman, a dog-handler I met in Alabama. He said, "No one can beat the dog." Yeah, well, it was also said no one could run a sub-four minute mile either (granted I've never done so but that's beside the point). Finally, and most importantly, I tended to ignore just how painful it is to actually be bitten by a dog. I think I failed to realize this because in all those dog-attack training videos, the guy getting bit is in a huge, dog-proof suit.

So there we were this weekend, Auburn and me, playing in the den. I had out the big bouncy ball that so infuriates Auburn when I slam it into the ground. She'll leap at the ball and snap at it, and try to pin it down with her paws. Now, tell me what was wrong with the following thought process: It'd be funny if I throw the ball and just as Auburn tries to bite it, quickly grab it and pull it away. Hmmm. Surely you see the recipe for disaster? It was at times like this that it would be nice if the little angel on my left shoulder spoke just a bit louder, because I don't move as fast as I think I do. Ball is tossed. Auburn jumps, jaws chomping. I grab ball, and pull away. Alas, I was too slow.

The pain was instant and intense even though she connected just below the finger tip on my pinkie. I immediately slumped over, curled my legs around my finger, and hussled to the sink, where I soaked my finger in cold water while applying pressure to stop the bleeding. During those moments, I finally realized that I probably couldn't take a dog--if it was this much pain for just a nick on the finger, how much must it hurt to have a dog clamped firmly on your arm shaking its head? Fortunately, the cut wasn't bad though the very tip of my pinkie is quite swollen. Notice I never said that Auburn "bit" me, because that words convey malice and intent to injure. She was playing, and didn't realize what a jacka*s idiot for an owner she had :-)

Ok, enough about me and my little drama (although it's taken me much longer to type this because I don't have the use of my right pinkie...damn those p's). Bode is doing awesome. We bought him some new PJs, and here he is, modeling them after his "baff."After we put him in them, he was a bit ticked--"Horizontal stripes?" he asked. "Do you want me to look tubbier?" Of course not--in fact, we thought the little jabba was looking skinnier...until we saw the below picture taken on Saturday.The little dude still has a gut on him. And the diaper certainly doesn't make his a*s look tiny :-) But as my friend says, a tubby toddler is a tired toddler, and I have to admit, Bode sleeps like a champion, which is where he is right now. I suppose I should finish up and pretend to watch The Bachelor with Ashley (what a horrible, horrible, show, but that's a topic for another blog).

Pleasant Monday.