It's a doggie dog world.

This is about a dog, a dog that Ex#2 really wanted, dreamed of and begged for, really. Which is similar to his begging for doggie style, but that's a different story.

One that won't be told here.

Pigs.

Ex#2 really wanted a puppy.

Puppy = work

Puppy = ME with more work.

So when we found a nice enough stray dog hanging around my parent's I suggested we take him for a spin. So four years ago, we took that dog home, we named that dog and we've had that dog since.

No one bonded to the poor dog. He was super nice, but also super annoying. (The dog, not Ex#2, cause that one's a given) When Ex#2 (finally) moved out back in March, I agreed to keep the dog UNTIL the house sold. Then the dog was his.

I broke my back getting the dog's 50 million pound bag of food, scooped enough poop from the yard to fuel a small car and dealt with all the dog's annoying traits, which also included the time he got loose and had an ass chewin' by a neighborly dog.

When Ex#2 decided to play poor me settle for a ONE bedroom apartment I pushed for him to find a home for the dog. It was obvious now that he wasn't going to take the dog and I really (nice as the dog was) didn't want him either.

At one time in my life I wanted three children, I've since gotten a brain decided that two is just enough and a four legged child was not in my best interest (at this time).

He searched, I searched. People thought I was kidding when I'd offer up a free dog to them. We even had people come check out the dog, nada. No one wanted this now 7ish year old dog.

Hell we couldn't even get the Humane Society to take him, he was on the waiting list for three places. Our last resort was either taking him to the pound or putting him to sleep ourselves. By "ourselves" I mean EX#2 was going to have to do it, because there is now way I could witness putting a perfectly healthy dog to sleep. No.way.

If I were in the room, guess what? I'd be keeping the damn dog...cause I just couldn't do it.

A few days before closing on our house I got a call from our realtor.

"I got a call from the buyer's realtor and he has a strange request."

"um, OK, what is it?" I asked.

"They heard through the grapevine that you are taking the dog to the pound. Is that true?" She asked.

"Yes, unfortunately, we can't find a home for him." I mumbled something about stupid Ex#2 getting an apartment that doesn't allow dogs. *Eye roll*

"Well, the buyers would like to know if they can have the dog..." She said.

"Are you kidding me? Holy cow. Do they want kids, cause I can work that out too?"

What? Don't judge.

Closing day, we see the buyers and YES they want the dog, I mean, they weren't ready to have a dog just yet, but he's such a nice dog and so sweet and they can't let us take him to the pound...so Yeah. They. kept. our. dog.

Things work out, they always do.



Leaving Bo at the house this past Monday was a little harder than I expected.
I'm sorry Bo.
I'm sorry thing didn't work out differently for you with OUR family.
I wish you a new happy family, be good ya big Dum-BO.

Ass Chewin

I was sleeping peacefully the other morning when I hear the door bell at 6am.

Confused, I roll over and close my eyes. Totally blowing off the sound, convincing myself that it was just a dream. The bell rings again.

I throw the covers off of me, groggily walk to the front door. With sleep in my eyes and my hair standing straight up, I answer the door. A lady stood there with fire pouring out of her ears.

"Is this your dog?" she sneered.

I rub my eyes and look down at the pathetic brown eyed and panting black dog.

"Yes, thank you." I say with a sigh.

Rewind back to the night before when STBE so graciously "babysat" for me. Being the "stand-up" guy that he is *ahem* he had decided to clean the gutters while he was there doing me a "favor". While he was on the roof, he left the gate open from the yard. The kids, being the stellar kids they are, let the dog out to go potty.

Bo, is a runner. We got him as a stray, he runs, it's what he does. He saw his escape route and too gratefully took it.

When I arrived home, I was home maybe 15 minutes when STBE asked me if I had seen the dog. To which I said, no, I've only been home a short time. It was then that he realized the situation and that Bo had gone out to gallivant around the neighborhood.

He'll come back, he always does. I closed up the house and went to bed.

Back to my early morning alarm.

As I open the door for the dog the woman goes into a tirade.

"Your dog has been in my yard for the past two nights," (not true, but I was too sleepy to respond), "I've been up since 3 am, my dog is VERY aggressive and will kill your dog. I drove around the neighborhood for an hour trying to catch your dog. You really need to figure out how he is getting out and take care of that problem. If I see your dog loose again I am calling animal control." She growled all of this without taking a breath.

Wow, OK. Right. Well. "I really apologize for your inconvenience" was all I could muster in my confused are-you-fucking-kidding me state. I close the door and give the dog a stare down.

I climb back into bed, hoping that I can fall back asleep for the 20 minutes before my alarm starts blaring the beginning of a new day.

As the kids and I are getting ready, Bubba runs into the bathroom to announce that Bo is bleeding.

Oh for the love of Pete. *grumble-grumble*

Sure enough, I wasn't the only one that got their ass chewed out.

Nothing says "good morning" like a good ass chewin.

DOG-GONE-IT

So we have this dog. Bo. Also known as Bo-Bo the clown, or DumBO, or Bo-jangles.
He was a stray dog, we took him in for several (selfish) reasons. He wasn't a puppy that we would have to train, he was really calm, he seemed like a good dog.
We have had him for 3 years or so.

He is a good enough dog, but man he is needy and really annoying at times.
One thing that drives me nuts is his excessive cleaning of himself. The licking, the licking, the damn licking. It wakes me up in the middle of the night.

The way he eats is another crazy thing. We live in a bi-level home, his food is downstairs in the laundry room. He gets a mouth full of food, runs up (or more like lunges up) four steps to the first landing and drops all the food. He will stand there and eat it. Right after he finishes, he runs up the rest of the stairs and has to go outside immediately.

He is so much like a child in that if I am on the floor playing with the kids or preoccupied with the kids he has to be right there. Demanding the attention for himself. It never fails, I sit down to rock Bubba at night and Bo decides he needs to go out. I get in the shower and Bo decides he needs to go out. It is crazy.

We really have no idea how old he actually is, the vet thinks he is five or six. He is the biggest chicken butt. He can predict weather just as easily as the local newscaster. If we see Bo heading for a table to squeeze under or hiding in the closet or behind the couch, we KNOW there is a storm coming. It use to be only thunderstorms. He'd get under the end table, usually knocking everything off of it because he is too big, he'd shake with fear. A few minutes you would hear the thunder rumbling the sky. NOW though, it is even for rain. He won't even go NEAR the door to go out if it is raining, even a sprinkle. CHICKEN. Fourth of July is his most hated holiday, I am sure.

He really is a good boy, he never gets riled up, he is really gentle around kids and company. He doesn't potty in the house (my plants outside are fair game however). He has NEVER snipped at anyone. I hate talking bad about him because overall he's not so bad. It just those annoyances that make me crazy and make me giggle sometimes.

Bo-Bo. He's camera shy. :)