Gut Rumbles

June 08, 2003

tall dogs

I like dogs and I don't like cats.

Dogs are pack animals and they understand who is the "Tall Dog." That's the alpha male who rules the pack. He's the boss. He always takes the lead harness when he pulls a sled and he wins every fight when he's challenged. The other dogs know who he is, and they treat him with the respect he deserves.

I miss Bud.

Bud is the 90-pound chow/lab mutt I lived with for ten years while I was married to the BC. He's got gray silver hair around his muzzle now and he's not half the dog he once was. Hell, he's 15 years old now, and that's ancient for a dog. He's arthiritic and can barely see anymore, but he's still alpha and good for about 30 seconds worth of fight before he wears out. With him, 30 seconds is usually enough. He's still a bad-ass.

I got my bluff in on Bud shortly after I started dating Jennifer. I am good with dogs, but Bud didn't like me at first. One day, when I was in Jennifer's apartment waiting for her to come home from work, Bud growled at me. I was wearing a cap and I whipped it off my head and proceeded to beat the shit out of him with it. I quit when he rolled over on his back in a posture of submission.

I never had another problem with Bud after that, and he loves me to this day, the grizzled old fart. I showed him who was Tall Dog. He understood immediately.

I would have had one hell of a fight and a lot of stitches in my immediate future if that dog had decided to make a serious issue about who was in charge that day. But I ran a newspaper route when I was 12 years old and I dealt with really mean dogs back then. I carried a sawed-off baseball bat in a holster on my bicycle and I bashed many a biting, barking dog with it. Once was always enough. They got the message fast.

You gotta let them know who is in charge.

When we moved to Twin Oak Drive, I was warned about "Nemo," a dog as big as Bud who was the terror of the neighborhood. That ratty bastard came to shit in my yard every day, and he bit Cathy when she tried to run him out of her yard in mid-shit. I finally had enough of him.

I KNEW how aggressive MY dog was. I saw Nemo in the yard, all hunched-over, pinching another loaf on my grass, so I said, "Bud! Lookee here!" and I opened the door. Bud saw Nemo and he went nuts. "Gittem!" I said, and Bud did.

Bud had a real good technique for a dogfight. He ran full-tilt into his opponent and hit them like a linebacker in an NFL football game. That impact usually knocked them ass over teakettle, and Bud went for the throat after that. He did the same thing to Nemo, and the two dogs went tumbling into the ditch in my front yard with Bud on top and Nemo in big trouble.

I ran out, wearing nothing but gym shorts, to break up the fight. Bud wore a choke-chain around his neck that could support the anchor of a large boat, and I grabbed that to pull him off of Nemo. Blood was all over both dogs. Bud was still growling and snapping until I pulled the chain tight around his neck and got him to calm down. Nemo jumped up and ran away.

I checked Bud from head to toe, cleaned him up and discovered that he wasn't wounded. All that blood came from Nemo. I took Bud back inside and gave him a handful of doggie-treats, petted him and praised him for a job well done. He laid down on his favorite rug and munched contentedly. No big deal. All in a day's work.

Nemo never came back in my yard again. I watched that dog start down the road, come to my house and cross WAAAYYY over on the other side of the street as he went by, eyes ever watchful for the demon who got him there before.

He knew where the Tall Dog lived. And he wanted no more of it. And he shit elsewhere after that.

That's what we should do as a nation today. Be Tall Dog. Prove it. Then tell the pissants and the mean dogs of the world that they can shit all they want to.

Just don't try it in MY yard.

That same theory doesn't apply to cats, which is why I hate cats. They don't have normal brains. They are like really spiteful women. Beat THEM for fucking up and they'll go shit in your bed.

Dogs understand the rules of war. Cats are terrorists.


When I was a kid, we had a german shepherd in the 'hood that used to chase us when we'd ride down the road on our mini bikes and would often nip your heels. One day, a buddy and I set him up good. My buddy took off down the road and I waited until I saw the dog come after him, then I took off. The dog was so focused on my buddy that he didn't even see me coming. You guessed it, I ran clean over his sorry ass. I don't think I broke any bones, but he sure looked pathetic as he limped home. He never did chase us again after that.

Posted by: Marcl on June 8, 2003 11:14 AM

MB is quite certain you pegged the dog/cat descriptions just about right.

Now, the REALLY big question is: What about BEARS??

Posted by: MommaBear on June 8, 2003 12:38 PM

Which brings me to my favorite tagline:

Women and cats will do as they please;
men and dogs should just relax and
get used to the idea.

And yes, cats will, for sheer spite, shit in your bed. And it is especially appealing if it has a freshly laundered WHITE chenille bedspread on it.

Go figure! Now.... I got cats to feed. (And don't say, "to who?"!!!)

Posted by: Joni on June 8, 2003 01:14 PM

Don't let a big cat hear that. They're not quite so subtle as the smaller ones. ;)

Posted by: Mr. Lion on June 8, 2003 03:19 PM

I recently commented on my blog that "Cat shit is so foul it should be illegal in all 50 states." Ugh, ugh ugh ugh uuuuuuuugggggghhh. That's how I feel about cats. And their shit.

Posted by: sugarmama on June 8, 2003 04:31 PM

*L* I see I'm not the only one who thinks you're right on the money about women being cats. HOWEVER spiteful, I think most only do it After they've been *shat* (?!) on least thats my experience..*s*...

Posted by: Trease on June 8, 2003 06:57 PM

Growing up we had a mutt who lived well beyond 20 years, as he aged, he was blind, deaf, arthritis, and many other old age problems.

If he fell over when walking, we had to set him back up. I thought it would be easier to put him down, but my Dad wouldn't hear of it.

On sunny days, with no wind blowing, he could still remember the smell of bitches in heat and we would spend hours trying to track down that old, deaf, dumb, blind, horny, dog.

Long Live Dogs!

I'll bet he's in doggie heaven right now chasing tail.

Posted by: Sassy on June 8, 2003 07:16 PM

Gee, maybe THATS why I love cats so much. They have that Mafia thing down cold..."F*** me? No, F*** YOU." Then they do it...LOL at the very idea...

You should meet my cats, A-Man. They're not
like that because they don't have to be...which probably says more about me than I care to think about....

Posted by: stevie on June 9, 2003 10:41 AM

Oh, and I love bears-except for the ones with ticketbooks and too much time and sugar fueled energy on their hands...

Posted by: stevie on June 9, 2003 10:42 AM

I like cats because they're the only animal that can give you the finger. :-)

Posted by: Keith on June 9, 2003 12:43 PM

you know what they say.......cats are simply little, tiny, bitchy women in full length fur coats!!

I happen to like them both!!

Posted by: loco on June 11, 2003 09:10 PM
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