Dog Gone

I’ve always disliked little dogs mainly because they have a tendency to have big mouths. They act so tough when I know one good kick could send them flying across the room. (I don’t really kick them but I sure think about it.) For this reason I have preferred to own bigger dogs. Right now we have a retriever/lab mix that weighs in at just a little over 100 pounds.

The sad thing is that my big dog is a wimp. It’s humiliating. She will run up to any dog that enters the yard, flop down on her back and flail her paws in submission. Yes, she will even do this for those little yappy dogs I don’t care for. It is embarrassing.

It got worse when Kim took her to the vet today. She asked about a rash on our dog’s belly and the vet said it was an allergic reaction to grass and tree pollen. What kind of dog is allergic to grass and trees? So now she is on allergy medicine along with her seizure medication. What ever happened to those hearty canines who defended the home place while surviving on dog chow and whatever critters they caught passing through the yard? Instead I’m stuck with a pacifist who requires more drugs than anyone else in the house.

What’s even more frustrating is that she is apparently oblivious to her failings as a dog. If I were her I would be walking around with my tail permanently between my legs. She’s just too goofy to realize she is seriously lacking as a dog. Instead she just lays on the kitchen floor avoiding as much grass as possible, slobbering all over anyone who pays her the least bit of attention and making disgusting noises as she passes gas from both ends.

There is a spiritual application here but I don’t think I’ll bother. I get tired of people turning every situation into a life lesson. Instead I’ll just shake my head and dream of the day when she finally stops breathing and I can get a new dog. I think I’ll call it Killer or Fang or something.