Showing posts with label bulldogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bulldogs. Show all posts

Thursday, August 29, 2013

The Beauty of the Bulldog

I've always hated the term "so ugly it's cute." This is probably because I heard it a lot as a child since I grew up with English Bulldogs. My mom got her first, Astarte, when I was four. Our dogs were never ugly to us, we loved them. I always loved and still love the little pit on top of their noses where the velvety, fuzzy hair is. I used to poke my finger in that little hole and pet that fuzz over and over with every dog we had. And they always let me. This is because English Bulldogs are the best dogs in the world.

They're the best because you can do anything to them and they don't care. They're like Honey Badger, they don't give a shit. Unlike Honey Badger, they won't bite two-thirds of your face off. 

I was a little bratty when I was a kid. Actually, our boy George found the perfect hidey-spot in the yard under a small grouping of palm trees. He loved this spot. I loved this spot. I was small enough to fit into his little cave and so I pushed him out every chance I got. Thinking back, I deserved to be bitten for this. I would bite someone pushing me out of my cozy nap spot. I get just grumpy in general when anyone wakes me up from a nap now. Push me off the couch or bed and you're risking losing your head. But George didn't care. Or he did, but he didn't show it. He just sat outside patiently, waiting for me to get bored or called into the house and then he would return to his little dirt den. 

I can't remember if it was Venus or Cassiopeia that my sister tormented endlessly. It was one of the white sisters. One day she thought that the dog in question would enjoy using her head as a pillow. Over and over she grabbed the dog's head and tried to lay it on her own. Except she was grabbing the poor dog's throat and finally the dog had enough and threw up. Dog vomit. All over her face. I laughed while my sister held back her own gag reflex, but I think she knew it was her fault. 

And seriously, how awesome is a dog like that? Wake it from a nap by shoving it out of its comfort zone? No biting. Repeatedly choking it to make it do something only a 7-year-old thinks is funny? No biting. A little vomit, but who could blame her? 

The English are the root of my love for anything smooshy-faced. If it snorts, snores or farts relentlessly, I will love it. (Note that this only applies to four-legs. Two-legs who exhibit the same behavior will be kicked to the curb.) I already know that I will have dogs all of my life and my next one may just be a little bully. 

I'm okay with the slobber, I'll just steer clear of the gag reflex. 


Thursday, January 03, 2013

How Much Is That Doggy in the Window?

If you don't know how much I love dogs, then we have never met. Everyone I know points dogs out to me wherever I am. I almost stole a puppy from a co-worker, which may be the reason he keeps him in the car now. The only reason I don't have more than two is because I don't have the money or the space for them. Otherwise I would have a whole bunch of them of all kinds. But mostly the smooshy-faced, because they're my favorites.

I grew up with bulldogs. My parents got our first, Astarte, when I was four. She was actually a gift to my mom when she was dating my dad. There was a small grassy hill next to our apartment and Astarte and I would roll down that hill over and over together.

Next came George. His brother was the bulldog in the Clint Eastwood/Dirty Harry movies. I was mostly mean to him and would push him out of his favorite little hidey hole under the palm trees next to the pool.

George and Astarte produced Aphrodite, who gave birth to Venus and Cassiopeia from different litters. Cassie Gave birth to Taurus. There was also Maggie, who was supposed to be mine, but she drowned in the pool as a puppy.

After they all eventually died of cancer, my parents tried once more with a pair of older dogs from a breeder friend and then switched to a chihuahua and miniature Schnauzer. As of now, I think their pack includes the mini Schnauzer, a boxer, a golden retriever, and a mini dachsund. Whew.

I've loved dogs all my life. I've played with them, been drooled on by them, held them as teeny little puppies, making sure they were clean and well-fed, and slept in beds with them. What I missed most during my college years was having a dog around and I vowed to have another as soon as I could.

Dogs are wonderful. They love us unconditionally and forgive us our flaws. They often forgive far more than any creature should have to. They only live to be loved and to make us happy. Mine have curled up next to me while I cried, kept me warm at night, and are infinitely patient with all of my moods and weirdness.

With all that they give me, I want to give back. And it feels like giving back to just two small Bostons isn't enough. I want to give something to their brothers and sisters and cousins and distant, twice-removed cousins. I want to give by making sure that all waggy-tailed, saggy-skinned, stretched-out, drooling, little kissing machines have homes and families and know what it is to be loved.

I don't make resolutions at the start of the year. They don't stick. For a while I tried calling them goals, but that didn't make them stick either. And I'm not making a resolution this year either. But I am making a commitment. I'm making a commitment to do whatever I can to help animals in need. And I'm asking  you to do the same.

How much is that doggy in the window? Too much. The cost that dogs pay when bred from puppy mills is too much. They pay with their lives. Most people today, hopefully, are aware of the tragedies caused by puppy mills. If  you're not, I'm not going to go into it, just understand that it is devastating. You can look up the horrors for yourself. Just don't buy a dog from a pet store. End of story.

If you're thinking of getting a dog, think seriously about adopting. I adopted my Dalmatian, but not my Bostons. I will adopt next time. Even if you want a specific breed, there are rescue groups. And they often have puppies. Adopting saves lives.

Shelters are overrun with animals. It is a crime against nature that so many of them are put down daily. That their last days are spent in a cement cell. Do what you can. Adopt, foster, volunteer, donate.

The biggest way to keep animals out of shelters in the first place is to be responsible. There are enough dogs (and cats) in the world already who desperately need homes. Don't breed yours. Unless breeding is your life because you show them or are specifically committed to the integrity of the breed, don't do it. You want to make some extra money? Your dog is not a part-time job. Your dog is not a puppy factory. And you don't know that those puppies are going to loving, forever homes when you put them on Craigslist.

I realize that there are plenty of causes out there. People are homeless. Cancer is still an asshole. Children need protection. I support anyone who feels passionately about any cause and if you already have one, I wish you the best and thank you for what you are doing. My passion just happens to be dogs and if you aren't already doing something for someone, I urge you to join me.

I no longer want to see pictures of starving dogs or abused dogs or hear about dogs being made to fight or dogs being put down unfairly because they exhibit behaviors that have been bred into them by us. We, as people, took dogs into our homes, we taught them to be pets. We taught them to be dependent on us and to need us. Let's not let them down.

“Dogs have given us their absolute all. We are the center of their universe. We are the focus of their love and faith and trust. They serve us in return for scraps. It is without a doubt the best deal man has ever made. ” 
― Roger Caras


 
The Martini Chronicles. Design by Exotic Mommie. Illustraion By DaPino