October 18th, 2008

Survival of the Domesticated.


I'm quite disappointed in my dog right now.


First off, it's way too early for me to be up right now, even though I am. I took him out back for him to have his morning constitutional and it immediately turned into an massive stare down with a squirrel.

Both of them frozen, with eyes locked, I was hoping for some backyard action, National Geographic style. I was planning my narration hoping to play a tired, slow moving, and slightly hung over David Attenborough.

He is a dog. Dogs chase things, dogs bite things, dogs bark at things. I was fully expecting him to take off after the Squirrel, pouncing and barking proving his lack of testicles make him no less of a man. And I would have been proud. Tiny and fluffy, no matter. My dog would still be a bad ass. King of his fenced in backyard. Top of the small animal food chain. He would be known to the tinier and fluffier indigenous animals as the Urban Destroyer of Juniata.

Awaiting a throw down of tiny fluffy animals, my hopes were squished when Squirt looked away and started licking his butt.

It was a travesty.

The squirrel stood up on it's hind legs and squealed --seemingly mocking him for his lack of prowess.

Squirrel: That's what I thought. Go ahead, lick your butt. You ain't nothing. That's right. YOU. AIN'T. NOTHING.

I can't help but feel responsible. I did raise him after all. Turns out it was to be a needy, co-dependent.....WUSS.

Now, as I watch him taking his tiny blue whale squeaky toy and tossing it into the air and pouncing on it, rolling over on is back with it in his mouth, I realize if it were 250 million years ago and Squirt was living as he is, he would have never lived. He'd have been eaten by mother right away.

If he had managed to escape, he wouldn't have had a cool death battling a Tyrannosaur or being stalked by a Velociraptor, he probably wouldn't have noticed where he was going, stopped to lick his butt and fallen in a hole.



I'm getting a Rottweiler.