I bet he thinks his real name is “Fucking Dog”!
Every time we sit to eat, he’s at your feet, anticipating dropped crumbs. Ready in an instant to lick ’em up.
I hate the way he sounds when he’s scrounging on the floor for crumbs.
Like he’s going to town. Slurp, slurp, suck, slurp, sip, grunt, harumph, burp.
He’s always there when a drop falls. Milk, oil, water, acid. Like he never gets fed. Or given fresh water every few farking minutes.
He farts. Smelly, dog food farts.
He humps everything in site. We call it ‘schweening’. It creeps me out. He’s fixed by the way.
He’s started stealing Fa’s toys and running away with them so we chase him around the house screaming bloody murder.
I hate it.
Fa loves it. I think he does too.
I call him “The Mooch”. And I yell “Stop Mooching!” at him and she keels over laughing.
Cracks up. Hysterical.
She loves this dog.
He makes her so happy. Even when he’s annoying the crap out of her.
He potty trained her. Remember that?
He’s teaching her how to write too.
He loves this kid.
He protects her and growls when anyone comes near her. Especially me.
Whenever we are playing with Fa, wrestling, attacking her with smooches and she starts to yell…He goes nuts!
He is a pretty good watch dog when he wants to be. Anytime someone comes to the door or even walks past the house, he barks and growls, letting me know.
He hates the firehouse and when it goes off, he howls. His pendulous lips actually forming a little ‘O’.
I hate when he mooches the most. It aggravates me. I think he may be the reason I am so stressed. I’m constantly yelling at him.
But they love each other. A girl and her dog.
How could I ever take that away from her?
Loogit the way he sleeps with his tongue hanging out. He needs dental work.
Now if only he would calm down like this when we try to pet him.