le cough, le sneeze, le awesome dog
These French germs are killer, man....yesterday, day 5 of being sick, I finally started to feel better. Until the evening, when I suddenly got a lot worse again. Ben's worse too - he got sick on Saturday, on our way back to Denver, and today he's also much worse. We've been lying around on the couch, watching tv and movies, feeling sorry for ourselves; it's really kind of pitiful. That'll teach me to travel to a country that hates Americans - they probably bred a supergerm that only attacks people from this side of the Atlantic. (Kidding. I'm kidding. The French are lovely people and most of them seem fine with Americans in general, just don't much like our foreign policy, which I absolutely sympathize with. But this cold sucks a whole lot of ass.)
Earlier, I was reading a blog that had been inspired by another blog, written by a vet, in which she challenged her readers to make a list of ten reasons their pet is the best. So, seeing as I think my dog kicks a whole lot of ass, I thought I'd do just that.
1. Wilbert is a big old snugglebutt. If you sit on the floor, he'll often come over and sit in your lap to snuggle with you. When we sit on the couch, he'll hop up, put his head on my leg and fall asleep.
2. He loves everyone he meets and has a hard time restraining himself from showing how neat he thinks they are. Really, he doesn't even try, though we're working on persuading him (via a squirt bottle) that he doesn't need to jump up repeatedly on guests to show how welcome they are.
3. The squirt bottle works because he's totally freaked out by water that comes in droplets and isn't rain - squirt bottles, sprinklers, water guns, he's not having any of it. On walks, he'll actually stop dead rather than walk through a sprinkler, so you either have to go out in the street to avoid it, pull him through it bodily or start to run a few yards before you get to it so that he's just excited about running and forgets about the Sprinkler of Doom.
4. He can't stand getting baths, but doesn't hold a grudge against us for giving him one - even during the bath, he'll lick my hand, as if to say that he knows it's not my fault and he doesn't blame me. And once we let him out of the bath, he's delighted to be free and wildly appreciative of us for rescuing him.
5. You know how cats will chase the red dots from laser pointers? Wilbert will do the same, except with a flashlight, and only if it's on the ground - on the fence or a wall, he loses interest.
6. He loves rawhides, but only to bury. He doesn't necessarily have to bury them in the dirt, however; if he's inside, he'll take the bone and find another place to "bury" it, like in a corner, between the couch cushions, once under me as I was lying on the bed. And then he covers it up with "dirt", pushing his nose toward it to hide it appropriately. Sometimes the dirt is sort of real, like a pillow, sometimes it's just the air. And once he finishes, he walks off with a look of complete satisfaction.
7. After staying with my mom for a few days while we were out of town, Wilbert decided that he should get to sleep on our bed with us. He'll start the night on his bed, and then after a few hours, sneak up onto ours. Once he managed to be so quiet and delicate about it that we woke up in the morning with him wedget between us, lying on his back with his paws in the air as if playing dead.
8. We keep a fence around the vegetable garden because Wilbert has a delightful habit of lying on plants and crushing the life out of them. One day he managed to worm his way through. All he did that was at all destructive was pick and eat half of a partially ripe roma tomato - I know, because we found the other half. No plants were harmed.
9. He feels an intense and undying hatred for all things rake and broom-like, and will bark at them unceasingly, until the offending implement has been returned to whence it came.
10. The dog park is one of his favorite places on earth. When we take him, he spends the entire time racing around with other dogs, wrestling, chasing, getting rolled, rolling other dogs. He is unequivocally delighted for the entire visit, and totally content when driving home.
Earlier, I was reading a blog that had been inspired by another blog, written by a vet, in which she challenged her readers to make a list of ten reasons their pet is the best. So, seeing as I think my dog kicks a whole lot of ass, I thought I'd do just that.
1. Wilbert is a big old snugglebutt. If you sit on the floor, he'll often come over and sit in your lap to snuggle with you. When we sit on the couch, he'll hop up, put his head on my leg and fall asleep.
2. He loves everyone he meets and has a hard time restraining himself from showing how neat he thinks they are. Really, he doesn't even try, though we're working on persuading him (via a squirt bottle) that he doesn't need to jump up repeatedly on guests to show how welcome they are.
3. The squirt bottle works because he's totally freaked out by water that comes in droplets and isn't rain - squirt bottles, sprinklers, water guns, he's not having any of it. On walks, he'll actually stop dead rather than walk through a sprinkler, so you either have to go out in the street to avoid it, pull him through it bodily or start to run a few yards before you get to it so that he's just excited about running and forgets about the Sprinkler of Doom.
4. He can't stand getting baths, but doesn't hold a grudge against us for giving him one - even during the bath, he'll lick my hand, as if to say that he knows it's not my fault and he doesn't blame me. And once we let him out of the bath, he's delighted to be free and wildly appreciative of us for rescuing him.
5. You know how cats will chase the red dots from laser pointers? Wilbert will do the same, except with a flashlight, and only if it's on the ground - on the fence or a wall, he loses interest.
6. He loves rawhides, but only to bury. He doesn't necessarily have to bury them in the dirt, however; if he's inside, he'll take the bone and find another place to "bury" it, like in a corner, between the couch cushions, once under me as I was lying on the bed. And then he covers it up with "dirt", pushing his nose toward it to hide it appropriately. Sometimes the dirt is sort of real, like a pillow, sometimes it's just the air. And once he finishes, he walks off with a look of complete satisfaction.
7. After staying with my mom for a few days while we were out of town, Wilbert decided that he should get to sleep on our bed with us. He'll start the night on his bed, and then after a few hours, sneak up onto ours. Once he managed to be so quiet and delicate about it that we woke up in the morning with him wedget between us, lying on his back with his paws in the air as if playing dead.
8. We keep a fence around the vegetable garden because Wilbert has a delightful habit of lying on plants and crushing the life out of them. One day he managed to worm his way through. All he did that was at all destructive was pick and eat half of a partially ripe roma tomato - I know, because we found the other half. No plants were harmed.
9. He feels an intense and undying hatred for all things rake and broom-like, and will bark at them unceasingly, until the offending implement has been returned to whence it came.
10. The dog park is one of his favorite places on earth. When we take him, he spends the entire time racing around with other dogs, wrestling, chasing, getting rolled, rolling other dogs. He is unequivocally delighted for the entire visit, and totally content when driving home.
posted by Allison @ 10:32 AM
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