Your spiders are bigger than my doggie.
This is a discussion on Your spiders are bigger than my doggie. within the Off Topic & Humor Discussion forums, part of the The Back Porch category; As you know, Betty posted pictures of her pets, and I just sent her a new one of my dog, a Bichon Frise named Sasha. ...
March 2nd, 2005 11:02 PM
Your spiders are bigger than my doggie.
As you know, Betty posted pictures of her pets, and I just sent her a new one of my dog, a Bichon Frise named Sasha. My wife bought her litter mate, a little white terror named Neko. (Sasha acts the little princess, and for Neko, well, let's just say boys will be boys.)
Many people have commented that a Bichon seems a strange choice for a biker. I disagree.
It has always seemed rather craven to me for a guy to send his dog out to do his fighting for him. When his Rottweiler tears up an adversary I'm impressed by the dog, not the little coward who bought him.
Sasha is blue-eyed, so we are kindred spirits. She has an artsy side, a curious side, a gormet tongue, and a desire to sleep late. She can look sullen, but like all Bichons, she has the ability to smile. Sometimes (like all blue-eyed folks) she'll get into trouble. It's more the circumstances, however, and it is here that I speak from experience.
She was to be my "pocket dog." That is, she was to ride inside my coat on the Harley. This never worked out.
We took the Bichons to Capital City once, and some biker lit up his straight pipes as we got out of the truck. This scared Sasha to death, she now even fears the vacuum cleaner.
We have our roles, however, and that is as it should be. She likes my pillow, and we fight over it all night--no problem there. Periodically, she takes both of her little paws and pushes me during the night. As I wake up, her face tells the story.
She has heard something in the middle of the night and it scared her. She went to get the "big dog." And that is my role.
I grab the bedroom gun (an SW 4516) and a Surefire and walk out to the living room. Sasha waits at the end of the bed until I return. I tell her that I chased the bad man away. We go back to my pillow.
This may seem odd to you, but the next time you see some 'banger with a show-off dog that is nothing but a fur-coated razor blade, think of these roles. Who's fighting for who?
March 5th, 2005 06:09 PM
I'm with 'ya, Tourist.
My wife & I have two Lhasa Apsos. They are my favorite critters of all time! Both sleep on the bed with me, and never fail to let me know if anything is amiss around the homestead. They have travelled more than 500,000 miles with us in our 18 wheeler. They are the reason we caught two burglars in our garage @ 4:00 AM several years ago. (One of those "Armed Citizen success stories.)
One is 10 and the other is 12, starting to show their age. I'm gonna cry me a river when each one's time comes. One is a smidgen more my favorite than the other, but I'll never tell and they'll never even suspect it!
We've had Labs, horses, and a plethora of cats but these two dogs are the love of my life.
If you ain't the lead dog, the view never changes.
March 5th, 2005 06:43 PM
My golden retriever/ husky is a family pet / alarm sytem. I have trained her to bark if someone is at the door. I take care of the security from there. Never wanted a fighting dog.
March 5th, 2005 06:55 PM
Ain't it the truth.
The little beggars are right at my feet while I'm typing this. As much as they drive me nuts (or nuttier) I'd miss their little faces.
They were born of two champions, but they were the male and female runts of the litter. Both have flaws that would have precluded contests, but that's not what I wanted and they were spayed and neutered. (Neko had only one testicle which would have kept him put of competition all by itself. He had extensive surgery to try and locate any non-descended testicle to ward off medical problems later in life. It hurt me deeply to see that long cut and the many sutures.)
They both have blue eyes; champions are supposed to have brown or black. Sasha has slightly buff colored ears, not pure white.
Also, when Sasha walks away I can see that her hind legs are slightly bowed, just enough to be cute.
About once per week, I dream of the dogs. In them, Sasha usually talks, which when I'm in the dream seems perfectly normal. She makes an odd inclusion of some consenants, which I have replicated for my wife, a speech pathologist.
Strangely, my wife surmises that this is how speech would sound when larger and more immovable mandibles were used.
March 5th, 2005 07:19 PM
A fighting dog has its value however. My mother grew up in a house with a dozen other children in it. As poor as they were, they invested in a nice vicious Rottweiler named Charlie.
Whenever a toddler attempted to take off into the street, Charlie would bring them back.
Whenever a little one fell down and got a scrape and started to cry, Charlie would lick it and they would grab onto his neck or ears and get back up.
And on no less than 3 occassions, Charlie snarled and growled at strangers who were on private property, daring them to cross the fence and try to touch one of those kids. On one particular occassion Grandpa was out at the gas station running the place, Grandma was butchering a chicken, and Charlie was the one on the scene when a known scoundrel made his way over the fence and into the yard hoping to steal something. Charlie tore a piece of his hand off and sent the man away screaming and bloody with a few little kids as witnesses.
The next day my Grandfather called the police chief and found out what low lives were out and about. That's how podunk this place really was in the 1960's. He then drove around looking for a guy with a bandage on his hand and found him. Grandpa broke his arm and shoulder with a blackjack and told him he never wanted to see him again. The next day the police ran him out of town and that settled the affair.
Grandpa was still the big dog but he couldn't be everywhere at once. It seems however Charlie could.
March 5th, 2005 09:02 PM
Our puppies are not big mean dogs, but loveable puppies who double as vigilant watchdogs...
If total government control equals safety, why are prisons so dangerous?
March 5th, 2005 09:30 PM
I just sent a pic of my Bichons to Betty. With her help, we can post my pics.
I know, I know, I'll have to pay the piper some day. My fear is that Will is going to need a patient for some electroconvulsive therapy tests he's doing.
These are the times in my dreams where I see Betty ramming a wet sponge into my crotch as Will flips the switch...
March 6th, 2005 04:43 PM
"Americans have the will to resist because you have weapons. If you don't have a gun, freedom of speech has no power." - Yoshimi Ishikawa
March 6th, 2005 07:22 PM
What can I say...as a former Jarhead I like big vicious dogs.....
This is Rudy...the wife's 16 year old poodle...just like the kid; came as part of the deal
March 6th, 2005 07:34 PM
Okay, here's my ole dawg, Sandy. She's 10 this month and probably in her last year of life, which I am dreading. She has been a part of the family since she was 6 weeks old.....
Coimhéad fearg fhear na foighde; Beware the anger of a patient man.
March 6th, 2005 07:51 PM
Thanks, Betty, for showing Sasha and Neko.
I awoke this morning to the feeling that my moustache was being cleaned by a wet floor mop. No prob, it was just Sasha, and I assumed something had scared her.
The moment my eyes opened, she looked at me and flipped over on her back, and wiggled her front paws in the sign that my wife and I know as "belly rub."
You see, it was 4-zero-dark-thirty, and the lttle princess had an itch. Securing good help is getting harder to find, and fortunately there's this Sicilian boy who's laying here doing nothing...
March 7th, 2005 10:29 PM
I have two great little pugs, muggs and maggie. They are where ever I am we don't know a day is complete without them. Muggs is six and Maggie is four. Maggie is the one who owns the house and barks like crazy if anyone dare come within eyesight of her front door. The mailman is special to her, he doesn't feel that way but has petted Muggs. I will try to get pictures up.
As you slide down the banister of life,
May the splinters never point the wrong way.
NRA Life Member
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