Friday, 23 March 2012

Yellow Carpets and Chunky Floors

Does anyone out there speak dog? To be more precise, does anyone speak a combination of Maltese-Lhasa Apso and English? I’m not even sure about the English, although the words “treat” and “walk” can be understood; the word “NO” just doesn’t seem to register.

Of course I am talking about Buster. I would dearly love to know dog for “Fuck You!” I think I have seen and heard it numerous times when he is angry or disappointed in me. The yellow stains on the carpet and the lovely deposits on the floor are real good indications of his mood. Thankfully, he is generally in a pretty good mood. No, Buster and I have come to an understanding, I do what he wants, give him what he wants, when he wants and everything should be just fine.
There was this cartoon movie by Disney called “The Fluppies” in which these creatures pass through an inter-dimensional doorway, are mistaken for stray dogs and are put into the pound. Their leader gets adopted by this woman and convinces her son (Jaime) to free the others. I kind of liked it, but I don’t think it did really well at the box office. Buster reminds me of one of the Fluppies. I think he knows more than he is letting on. I am going to keep my eyes on him, just in case he gets up to any funny business.

The reason I want to talk to Buster though is to explain to him about food. He doesn’t seem to understand that the food I give him has vitamins and nutrients that are good for him. The food he steals from my plate isn’t any better for him than it is for me. I do have a shinny coat, but it is made from a dead cow. Oh, and that red wax that comes from the cheese can’t be digested. You would think he’d know that with all of the interest he seems to have for dog droppings that we come across during our walks.

While I am at it, I would like to let him know that those chicken bones that he finds on our walks just might kill him. Who is walking around a suburban neighbourhood eating chicken anyways? Chicken isn’t finger food. Well, it is finger food, but it isn’t clean finger food. Not to mention, that there isn’t a chicken place for miles. They buy it and then drive to my neighbourhood and then go for a walk (in the winter) eating chicken and tossing the bones? I don’t think so.

Dead squirrels and birds although interesting to look at, probably don’t have the vitamins and nutrients he needs to grow up big and strong. He has actually caught a couple of birds on our walks, which I had to make him let go of. He doesn’t grasp the concept of catch and release I guess. I was trying to explain to him today that the thing to do when you see human vomit is to either walk around it or step over it. Not, stick your nose in it and begin licking like I am going to beat you to it. I told him that it wouldn’t be any good for him, and it sure wasn’t good for the human that put it there.

Oh, and while you are at it would you mind telling him that for the next seven days he is going to be living in a kennel with a bunch of other dogs that have been abandoned by their owners. I just don’t have the heart to tell him.
I guess when we get back we will have yellow carpets and chunky floors to deal with.


  1. I'm with you about guilt for leaving my dashound at a kennel, although many years ago I wish they had them for kids. We have passed on trips to warmer climates because we couldn't find a "baby sitter" for the little guy. Next winter when we head to AZ for a few months he is coming along, much to his liking I'm sure. I'll be thinking about poor Buster while your gone, be sure to bring him back something good. B

  2. Maybe next year I will come along and look after your baby for you. I think the only good thing I will bring back for Buster is mtself.