Phrases that wouldn't have crossed my lips if not for our dog

If not for our dog Sam, I can say with some confidence that the following phrases would not have ever crossed my lips:

Quit sucking your butt!
Get off the cat!
Hurry up and go poop.
Get your nose out of the litter box
Belly scratch?
Hi, Fatty
and
Is that a tampon in your mouth?

Our dog wonders if *he* humped Tiger Woods

With new allegations of Tiger Woods' sex romps coming out daily, my dog is wondering if *he* also humped Tiger Woods.

Sam is a prolific humper. Few cats, dogs, small children, legs or stuffed animals can escape his grip. He just can't help himself.

So, all I can say is... well... it's not that far-fetched.... mayBE.

Our dog has no sense of style

We hate our dog. He has no sense of style.

All that black and brown together - and if that's not busy enough, then he adds white. And really, the white stripe down the nose? Isn't that a little much?

He has as much fashion sense as a S'more (with way too much marshmallow). C'mon, it's embarrassing.

Halloween beast

Well, there's good news and there's bad news.

The good news is we only had 4 trick or treaters last night. I say "good news" because each time that doorbell rang, Sam would come flying out of his current place of rest, barking, growling, scratching at the door to get at his mortal enemy -- the 4 year old bumblebee on the other side of the door.

He actually likes most people. However, he has had a few incidents when, for whatever reason--a nasty smell, or perhaps he just "felt like it"-- when he took a strong dislike to someone at the door and has tried to bite them. It's only happened a few times, but that's enough to make me be very, very cautious about unleashing him on an unsuspecting visitor.

So, by the fourth trick-or-treater, we started to get the process down smoothly. I would grab his leash (we put it on him, so we could get ahold of him), and hubby would open door, offer candy. I'm sure our little princess & robot visitors thought we were torturing a beast just behind the door, because as soon as I'd get ahold of his leash he would start with the yelping, whining, pitiful dog noises-- all the while pulling as hard as he could (often, running in place on the linoleum floor) to get free. (On second thought, maybe our treat-grabbing munchkins thought we had one of those halloween tapes playing in the background to build up the halloween atmosphere.)

So-- the bad news is we only had 4 trick or treaters (perhaps word got out that we were "torturing" our dog (which, I have to emphasize we were NOT-- but Sam would like everyong to THINK he was being tortured), and parents didn't want their kids around that. So, since we only had 4 lone little mask-wearing beggars, now I have two FULL bags of candy sitting in our entryway waiting to be eaten. Ugh, I feel sick already!

Sam *hates* the neighbor's cat

No matter how dumb Sam wants us to think he is, every so often, he slips up and reveals that he really *does* understand what we're saying. (It turns out he's just CHOOSING to ignore us most of the time).

We have a neighbor who has a darling cat that knows just how to get under Sam's skin. "Tom" (yes, I know, how original...) sits outside of Sam's dog run area j-u-s-t out of reach. Sam will bark and run around, working himself into a frenzy. But no matter how ferocious and menacing Sam tries to be, that cat will continue to sit there quietly, squinting evilly at the poor, helpless dog.


This has been going on for years. "Cat tortures dog by sitting nearby". What I didn't realize until recently though is that Sam actually knows this cat by name! Once again, he surprises us with how much he understands. Watch my amusing video that shows how much Sam hates Tom the cat: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xcq4i5c4Pjg

My dog does laps in our living room… Is that normal?

It’s true. Sam uses our living room/ dining room as his own personal Nascar track. He’ll get excited about something (the possibility of a walk, the fact that it’s morning, or perhaps simply the pure joy of feeling important papers flap around in his mouth as he’s hitting the straightaway…) and he’ll take off running. He usually goes clockwise, incidentally, but occasionally he’ll throw in a figure eight, or he’ll take a tight, unexpected turn through the dining room chairs. But, in general, his lap starts around the coffee table in the living room, through the living room to the dining room, around the dining table and back to the living room. When he’s really excited, he might do 20 laps in a row (which usually sends him panting and coughing over to his water dish for refreshment).

For some reason, when we were researching the characteristics of the dog breeds we were considering, the beagle’s energy level did not raise a red flag… I guess the translation for “full of energy, a lively, active dog” is “CLEAR ALL BREAKABLES! WILL DO LAPS IN YOUR LIVING ROOM!”
I guess I was thinking more along the lines of “will really enjoy a brisk walk or perhaps the occasional jog.”

Now that we have a beagle, of course, we keep running into old friends and neighbors who say, “Oh your dog is so cute! WE USED TO HAVE A BEAGLE.” Used to have???!! I guess once is enough, no one would voluntarily go through the experience AGAIN! That would have been nice to know.

So, I guess the moral of the story is that if you are looking to get a dog, DO the RESEARCH. And not only that, but BELIEVE the RESEARCH. Pay attention to the warnings—they are not kidding.
But, after all that, if you choose to ignore the warnings and decide against all common sense to get a beagle, make sure your living room has at least a 10 foot clear path with optional figure 8 track.

Why can't we have a GOOD dog?

I went for a walk today during my lunch break, and out of nowhere a big alaskan malamute-type dog comes barrelling out of the shrubbery towards me. I'm alone, and based on my experience with Sam, I've come to fear the (un)reliability of dog behavior. But it turns out this dog (her name, as it turned out, was Sasha) was a very nice, friendly dog!

Sasha followed me to the end of my walk, and back to my workplace. The birds were chirping, she was off sniffing one way, then would look back to make sure I was still there, then go off sniffing the other way-- always keeping me in her sights. We ran into a few other dogs along the way. Sasha was very friendly (what a concept-- Sam can't stand other dogs). For a good half hour, I was the (imaginary) proud owner of a beautiful, obedient dog named Sasha.

Well, in the end, I called her owner (whose number was on Sasha's collar), and she came to retrieve her dog. Sigh. It was nice while it lasted