This may stem from unpleasant experiences in my youth.
1. I was walking home from school as a first grader, and a dog bigger than me came up behind me and bit me on the butt. He actually put his muzzle up under my fake fur coat that my grandma bought me at Sears, and bit me. No blood was drawn, but being the timid little thing that I was, I'm pretty sure I was scared of dogs for a long time after that. At least I said I was.
2. My brother's dog committed suicide in our backyard. I'm not sure whether or not I found the body, but I do remember seeing it out there before they cut him down. Apparently the sliding chain they had him on wasn't meant to be twisted around and around by an excited animal. Either that, or he was being tormented by the other animals because he had one blue eye and one brown eye. He just couldn't take it any more.
3. There's another story, but it's not for the general public. Take my word for it--it was horrific.
Other general reasons included crotch sniffing, slobbering, fur dropping, snuffling, floor wetting, shoe chewing, and dog food stinks.
So why do I have a cute little doggie as my profile photo? Well, the RHS loves dogs. All dogs. It doesn't matter how small, how big, how mangy--she will stop any person on the street and talk to them about their dog. Daltonboy about goes crazy. He can't imagine talking to a stranger--especially about a dog. Anyway, I found this 2000 piece puzzle at D.I., brand new, and brought it home. It's a great family bonding activity, puzzling is. It's called Scottie Dogs Adorables Terriers (we don't know why--it was made in some weird country to the north), and I thought the RHS might enjoy putting it together and hanging it in her room.
Turns out she doesn't like it. Thinks it's "tacky." But the minute we started working the puzzle, I remembered another, sweeter experience from my childhood. My mom came home late one night from a business trip and she'd brought me a little, stuffed Scottie dog as a present. (No presents for the younger sibs, as I recall. It was a triumphant moment. I am the favorite. Also, they were babies.) The dog looked real, and I used to take it to school with me and fake out my teachers. Fun times.
So the more I look at this puzzle, and at my old "Scottie," the more I think that I do like dogs. I like stuffed dogs, dog statues, figurines, and dog pictures. Especially Scottie dogs adorables terriers. Just don't let a live dog cross my path. So I am now a collector of Scottie dogs. I've got the one, and the puzzle, and am getting rid of my bunnies to make way for more. Because what in the heck do bunnies have to do with anything, anyway?
6 comments:
What countrys were you talkings aboot?
The story of your brother's dog is really funny/harrowing/sad.
And RHS didn't like the picture because she saw MY room and it's, like, her DREAM room. How OLD am I? Did you see any pictures of terriers ins mys rooms? No. And I'm even Canadian. If you don't mind, I've been thinking of compiling a few decorating/craft tips for RHS. If nothing else, she can do something for her YW project.
I'm glad that I finally found another human being who hates dogs. Dogs are completely overrated. I just get irritated with the smell, the barking, the pooping on a lawn that is meant to be played football upon, etc. Everyone says: "but dogs are so cute and loyal and happy and...." I think that's why I have friends, or even a wife. I don't need companionship from a dog. Or little hairy humans, for that matter. But that hasn't got anything to do with the subject, really.
Too bad you don't love dogs, because apparently the poodles just love you. Or at least they seem to, ahem, love your weather pixie's leg.
Just because your weather pixie dresses like a little ho, and mine isn't, is no reason to cast aspersions at her.
And I'll take the Fifth on that, Cicada. For those of you who aren't from our fair country and don't know what that means, it means I don't have to answer, on the grounds it might incrimnate me or prove that I'm making fun of your country.
Dearest, I wasn't casting dispersions at your well-groomed pixie, but rather with the dog that seemed to be straddling her leg.
I realize that now. I hadn't seen the dog until this morning, and I'm not quite sure what it's doing. But I'm almost certain it's not being naughty. Almost.
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