The Fragrant Missus and I don't have kids. Well, that's not true. The Fragrant Missus actually two children, a daughter who is hard-working, bright and funny. She also has a son who is...well, none of those things, but that's a tale for another day.
In the absence of children, the Fragrant Missus and I have three dogs. And since they are dogs and not kids, we refer to them as "the Dids". Or, most recently, "the Three Didiots". I despair of them, both as individuals and a group, but they are, for better or worse, a large part of our lives, so you might as well meet them. And what better place toexact my revenge vent my spleen introduce them than here on my blog! It is called Douchebaggery Abounds, after all, and they are capable of the highest levels of canine douchebaggery.
Did Number One: Scooter Pot Pie.
Meet Scooter. Scooter is a six-year-old wire-haired fox terrier cross. Like the other dids, he is a rescue from the Edmonton Humane Society, and came to us as a three-month-old puppy in September, 2008. He is about fourteen inches high at the shoulder, bow-legged, light-boned and scruffy. Physically, he's goofy looking. He is also very "sensitive". He is terrified of thunderstorms and the pressure cooker. He is also the pack's "hall monitor"--if one of the other dids are doing something he knows they shouldn't, he'll let us know. A good friend of ours once described Scooter with resounding accuracy as "that kid in class who would ask, 'Were we supposed to have a test today', just when it seemed the teacher had forgotten all about it."
I seriously think Scooter is gay. You only have to see him prancing through the tall grass (or the short grass or along the boulevard or anywhere he goes, really) to know that this dog is a little "light in the loafers". Also, watch him eat. One day, I'm going to videotape Scooter lingering over his kibble and post it on YouTube with an appropriate voice-over. The other two bolt their food down like they've never seen it and will never see it again. But Scooter is more refined; he takes a few kibbles and chews thoughtfully and deliberately, savoring the complexity. Then he pauses to survey his surroundings, because "Ze light; she changes every second, non? Eet ees tres magnifique!" Yes, if Scooter was a human, he would be some effeminate French asshole, critiquing international films and "high art". He'd wear a fucking beret or some shit.
As a dog, though, Scooter is the best. Despite his propensity for getting up on the dining room table and passive aggressively pissing on the bathroom floor when he is disgruntled ("I should not have to tell you what ees wrong, hein? Eet should be obvious to you, Two-Legger!"), Scooter is quite clever. I have taken him to three Agility courses and he does very well. He appreciates words, and when I talk to him, he cocks his pie-shaped little head to one side and listens intently for the one word that will indicate what the hell it is I want. He is sweet and gentle and just wants to be friends with everyone and everything, including cats, hamsters and the field mice that occasionally come into the kitchen. He is very compliant and, despite his overall timidity, lacks the behavioural issues that plague the other two Didiots. We know that when shit has gone wrong during the day, Scooter wasn't involved. But he would dime them out in a red-hot minute.
Did Number Two: Nipper T. Biscuit
Meet Nipper. If Nipper looks guilty in this photograph, she probably is. Nipper is a four-year-old corgi/Jack Russell Terrier cross. She is sturdy, short, curious, confident and fiercely intelligent. Whereas Scooter isn't particularly interested in exploring his environment, Nipper is an intrepid explorer and problem solver. We had to get a padlock for her crate, because she learned how to undo the latch. Sometimes, you can actually see the gears turning in her brain as she figures out how to get around an obstacle or get at that toy she wants. One day, I watched as Scooter circled the crate where a juicy bone waited inside. He pawed at the sides with no effect and went around the front to where the door was closed but not latched. He couldn't quite figure out how to get at the bone. Nipper was also watching from the couch. She got down, crossed the floor, opened the crate with her paw and then went back to the couch. It blew me away.
Unfortunately, the intelligence that makes Nipper such a joy to be with also gets her into plenty of trouble. If we fail to provide her with something to do, she creates her own fun. And fun, in Nipper's mind, involves getting into the garbage and/or recycling, and spreading it from one end of the house to the other. You can almost hear her saying, "I can't believe you guys were going to throw away all this cool stuff!" Items that Nipper has destroyed in the past few months include bellydance cds belonging to the Fragrant Missus, a box of Cards Against Humanity and my hearing aid. She also ran right throughthe nylon wall of the bughouse in the backyard. It had been up less than an hour, and Nipper wrecked it.This resulted in her being referred to as "that fucking burrito-shaped twutplunging shit-tube furbag." I actually called my dog a cunt. To her face.
She spends a certain amount of time in her crate, pondering why she's there. Nipper's YouTube video would consist of her in her crate with Eric Carmen's "All By Myself" as the soundtrack.
I will admit, though, Nipper is my favourite. Despite her many and frequent transgressions, she is my constant pal. I miss the days when I could take her to work. I was going to say that if Nipper was a human being, she'd be a sensible-shoe-wearing, talkative intelligent lesbian. Then I realized I was describing me. Oops. But I do adore her and she seems bonded to me, too. When I fell on the stairs last August and couldn't move, Nipper came and sat by me and wouldn't leave my side until the Fragrant Missus arrived to take me to the emergency clinic. I just wish she'd stop eating my stuff.
Did Number Three: Dieter Schnitzel.
Also known as Dieter the Delayed, Dieter is the latest addition to the pack. He is a one-and-a-half year old schnauzer/terrier cross. He is, as you can see, very cute, which has saved his life on more than one occasion. He is blissfully free of the intelligence that is characteristic of the other two dids. When you look into Dieter's eyes, there's nothing there. I swear, if you listen closely enough, you can hear the white noise between his ears.
Fortunately, he's kind-hearted and sweet and craves affection. In the words of Harvey Fierstein, "(He) just wants to be loved, is that so wrong?" But somedays, loving Dieter the Daft takes some effort. He's a compulsive licker; he'll lick you, he'll lick me, he daily licks the perimeters of the kitchen and living room, sometimes more than once. Dieter's motto is, "When in doubt, lick it."
Although he is better now, he used to be a door-dasher, and would take off up the street, always a few feet out of reach. He simply would not come when called, even when treats were offered. Dieter is the kind of dog who needs to be persuaded that obeying orders is in his best interest. His defiant phase seemed to last a Really Long Time. We still don't let him off-leash at the dog park--it's not that he isn't properly socialized or has ever in any circumstances exhibited aggression towards people or other dogs. He's just a bolter and he won't come back if he doesn't want to.
He has also picked up Nipper's bad habit of chewing shit that doesn't belong to him. And when you yell at him, he just looks at you, like, "What?" The Fragrant Missus wants to introduce him to Agility, but I dunno if he has the brains to get it right--I fear he'll be one of those dogs that stops to crap on the course halfway through and then wander off to sniff stuff. Seriously, we're talking about the dog who walked into the wall of the bughouse THREE TIMES.
I don't know what Dieter would be like as a human, but it probably involves medication and a hockey helmet.
So these are the Three Didiots. If you're in the area, come on by and meet them! Or take a moment to say hi to them in the comments! I promise to read the comments to them if you do. They love (eating) mail!
In the absence of children, the Fragrant Missus and I have three dogs. And since they are dogs and not kids, we refer to them as "the Dids". Or, most recently, "the Three Didiots". I despair of them, both as individuals and a group, but they are, for better or worse, a large part of our lives, so you might as well meet them. And what better place to
Did Number One: Scooter Pot Pie.
I seriously think Scooter is gay. You only have to see him prancing through the tall grass (or the short grass or along the boulevard or anywhere he goes, really) to know that this dog is a little "light in the loafers". Also, watch him eat. One day, I'm going to videotape Scooter lingering over his kibble and post it on YouTube with an appropriate voice-over. The other two bolt their food down like they've never seen it and will never see it again. But Scooter is more refined; he takes a few kibbles and chews thoughtfully and deliberately, savoring the complexity. Then he pauses to survey his surroundings, because "Ze light; she changes every second, non? Eet ees tres magnifique!" Yes, if Scooter was a human, he would be some effeminate French asshole, critiquing international films and "high art". He'd wear a fucking beret or some shit.
As a dog, though, Scooter is the best. Despite his propensity for getting up on the dining room table and passive aggressively pissing on the bathroom floor when he is disgruntled ("I should not have to tell you what ees wrong, hein? Eet should be obvious to you, Two-Legger!"), Scooter is quite clever. I have taken him to three Agility courses and he does very well. He appreciates words, and when I talk to him, he cocks his pie-shaped little head to one side and listens intently for the one word that will indicate what the hell it is I want. He is sweet and gentle and just wants to be friends with everyone and everything, including cats, hamsters and the field mice that occasionally come into the kitchen. He is very compliant and, despite his overall timidity, lacks the behavioural issues that plague the other two Didiots. We know that when shit has gone wrong during the day, Scooter wasn't involved. But he would dime them out in a red-hot minute.
Did Number Two: Nipper T. Biscuit
Unfortunately, the intelligence that makes Nipper such a joy to be with also gets her into plenty of trouble. If we fail to provide her with something to do, she creates her own fun. And fun, in Nipper's mind, involves getting into the garbage and/or recycling, and spreading it from one end of the house to the other. You can almost hear her saying, "I can't believe you guys were going to throw away all this cool stuff!" Items that Nipper has destroyed in the past few months include bellydance cds belonging to the Fragrant Missus, a box of Cards Against Humanity and my hearing aid. She also ran right throughthe nylon wall of the bughouse in the backyard. It had been up less than an hour, and Nipper wrecked it.This resulted in her being referred to as "that fucking burrito-shaped twutplunging shit-tube furbag." I actually called my dog a cunt. To her face.
She spends a certain amount of time in her crate, pondering why she's there. Nipper's YouTube video would consist of her in her crate with Eric Carmen's "All By Myself" as the soundtrack.
I will admit, though, Nipper is my favourite. Despite her many and frequent transgressions, she is my constant pal. I miss the days when I could take her to work. I was going to say that if Nipper was a human being, she'd be a sensible-shoe-wearing, talkative intelligent lesbian. Then I realized I was describing me. Oops. But I do adore her and she seems bonded to me, too. When I fell on the stairs last August and couldn't move, Nipper came and sat by me and wouldn't leave my side until the Fragrant Missus arrived to take me to the emergency clinic. I just wish she'd stop eating my stuff.
Did Number Three: Dieter Schnitzel.
Fortunately, he's kind-hearted and sweet and craves affection. In the words of Harvey Fierstein, "(He) just wants to be loved, is that so wrong?" But somedays, loving Dieter the Daft takes some effort. He's a compulsive licker; he'll lick you, he'll lick me, he daily licks the perimeters of the kitchen and living room, sometimes more than once. Dieter's motto is, "When in doubt, lick it."
Although he is better now, he used to be a door-dasher, and would take off up the street, always a few feet out of reach. He simply would not come when called, even when treats were offered. Dieter is the kind of dog who needs to be persuaded that obeying orders is in his best interest. His defiant phase seemed to last a Really Long Time. We still don't let him off-leash at the dog park--it's not that he isn't properly socialized or has ever in any circumstances exhibited aggression towards people or other dogs. He's just a bolter and he won't come back if he doesn't want to.
He has also picked up Nipper's bad habit of chewing shit that doesn't belong to him. And when you yell at him, he just looks at you, like, "What?" The Fragrant Missus wants to introduce him to Agility, but I dunno if he has the brains to get it right--I fear he'll be one of those dogs that stops to crap on the course halfway through and then wander off to sniff stuff. Seriously, we're talking about the dog who walked into the wall of the bughouse THREE TIMES.
I don't know what Dieter would be like as a human, but it probably involves medication and a hockey helmet.
So these are the Three Didiots. If you're in the area, come on by and meet them! Or take a moment to say hi to them in the comments! I promise to read the comments to them if you do. They love (eating) mail!
2 comments:
This is fantastic. Someone once told me that if Snork, The Dork was in 3rd grade, he would be eating paste. Also, like Scooter, Bosco is a little light in the loafers. Bet you they'd get along ;)
Oh!! And one of our vets told me that all 3 are not chihuahuas, but "terrier mixes". FML.
Dids . . . I like that, my ex and I used to refer to the cats as the 'Kits' . . .
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