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. 

The Only Reason I'll Ever Need To Hate Camping

I don't know what's gotten into me lately, but I'm turning into Nature Girl. I think it's because I'm Unemployed Girl and nature is mostly free. Shoes and cocktails are not. So I suggested to the wife the other day that I'd like to go camping, which she jumped on immediately. I love Wife, but she's not the most motivated person that she or I know. Say the word "camping", though, and she immediately texted back that she had just bought a tent and when did I want to go?

We chose (Where's) Waldo Lake for the name and because the guide book touted it as having the Bluest Water In the World or something like that. We packed the good camping food, the dogs and the booze and headed out with the slogan "chips and dips and s'mores and whores."

It was beautiful. The trees were beautiful. The sun setting over the lake was heartbreakingly beautiful. The camping spots were charming and we found one near the water. The dogs finally realized they had been taken somewhere Fun and got excited. I opened the car door to get out and look at something and that's when the nightmare began.

Hoards of mosquitoes were awaiting our arrival. They must have followed the car or our scent through the car because they were right outside the door flying in as soon as it was opened. I closed it immediately so we could plan our next move. We had bug spray. We were confident. First, we'd spray ourselves and then let the dogs out one by one to spray them. Done and done. We walked down to pay for our spot, clouds of mosquitoes following us. The poor dogs were walking in their own little clouds of buzzing. A mosquito flew into my mouth and stuck to the back of my throat. Ew. I coughed so hard I almost threw up.

We hurried back to start our campfire, thinking that would help diminish them. No. It didn't. These were like zombie mosquitoes, they just kept coming. Nothing stopped them. They turned into tiny little flying honey badgers. "We don't give a shit you're wearing a shirt, we'll bite you through it. Bug spray? Honey badger mosquitoes don't care. We don't give a fuck. We'll bite your head through your hair and fly down into your shirt." They were relentless and they fucking hurt when they bit. It was like being stabbed with syringes.

I've heard there is something that you can eat or drink to make the blood less appealing to them. I don't remember what it is right now, but I would have drank my own pee to get them to leave me alone. It was miserable.

By the time we gave up and went to our tent to sleep, they had died down quite a bit. Probably because they were just full from their evening buffet, not because they decided to leave us alone. We were sure that we could enjoy our breakfast next to the beautiful lake and float out to the Bluest Water In the World the next day.

When I woke up in the morning to go to the bathroom, the little fuckers were already out there. Waiting. At 8:00 in the morning! The cloud followed me to the bathroom and back. They flew into the tent so that we had to zip back up as fast as we could and spent the next couple of minutes killing the ones that had made it in.

We lay there trying not to panic. It was starting to get quite warm in the tent. We saw mosquitoes sitting on the screens of the tent, just waiting to get at us. Just. Waiting. Patiently.

We started to imagine we were stuck in an insect horror film. That our bodies would be found days later, completely drained of blood. The coroner would be completely baffled as to why two women and three dogs all died of the same cause.

Breakfast by the lake was obviously not an option. Staying for five more minutes was out of the question. We threw everything into the car as quickly as we could, frantically, shoving the dogs in first. As we were driving back through the campground, we saw a couple of people wearing mosquito net hats. That is not something I should see during my leisure time. Driving away, we were swatting at mosquitoes on the windows, the windshield, our bodies, the dogs, the dashboard. The inside of the car looked like a crime scene with blood smears and carcasses scattered everywhere.

Since my return home I have found bites on my legs, ankle, the arch of my foot, near my eyebrow, along my hairline, in my hair, on my back, stomach, chest, side, basically any skin surface on my body. Motherfuckers!!!

Obviously this does not bode well for future camping trips. As if there will be another one. I'm not good at being Nature Girl.

Shoes and cocktails are just so much easier to enjoy.