Archives for the month of: February, 2012

So I know my dog is not all that smart, or all that big.  Sometimes I just like to see how stupid I think. It’s really a dark thing to do.

 

So I popped in downstairs and as I was leaving I was handed a ball of tinfoil full of steak. I thought to myself that this piece of steak was nearly as big as her head (which is deceptively tiny, she just has a giant mane). I thought to myself as I unwrapped this piece of meat ‘I should really take the time to chop this up for her’.
I didn’t.

Then I thought ‘well she’ll probably chew it pretty well’.    She didn’t.

 

So there is my dog choking and I’m standing watching thinking ‘this can’t really get that serious’. After a little bit though I had images of me trying to give this stupid little dog the tiniest Heimlich maneuver you ever seen, cause the dog is definitely smaller than a baby. I would’ve had to just roll my knuckle up there. This is all assuming you can actually give a dog the Heimlich.

This is why I will never be a doctor. I am much more likely to help my choking dog with enthusiasm than a dying person. They whine and complain ‘Ouuuu poor me’. My dog just coughed that giant hunk of meat back up and went right back at it. She might not be so stupid cause she did chew it this time. If she was a boy dog I think she would’ve been doin the helicopter with excitement.

Here is her cracky eyes when I gave her the meat.

 

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When my father was younger, in college, he had a huge amount of plants and fish tanks. Like in a one bedroom apartment he had something like 17 fish tanks and more than a hundred plants. When he was telling me about this it was with no modest amount of pride. He would actually bring girls back to this strange amazonian forest like apartment, which I’m sure was humid and smelled somewhat like bog water.
He had his party tricks as we all do to try and woo a lady. He would show the girls how he had trained the fish. Granted I think this to be much more tactful then yelling helicopter and taking your penis and spinning it around as fast as you can. Anyhow, he would tap on the glass of the tank and the fish would rise to the top of the tank. This was impressive to him, which is justifiable, because fish really aren’t meant to be trainable, with their tiny brains (which is really all relative). I can’t imagine it really made their jaws or their pants drop.

Considering he could have his fish listen to him and I can hardly get this little bugger to come when I ask her to is one of those things that gets to me. You know how you expect to surpass those that taught you at some point, but teaching this little animal is one point where I fall short. Oh, I’ve read the books, and had a strange man stop me on the street and give me a card that says dog whisperer on it, but that’s about as far as it goes.

In my mind though so long as she doesn’t maul a child and shit in my bed I’m ok with her barking at an empty night when she’s in the back yard. I don’t have to go ahead and put her in a burlap sack…yet.

Here is a drawing of her I did for a painting I put up in a bar of her as the anti-christ.

So the anti-christ drawing didn’t save properly and I’ve already cut it up for the painting.. so if you had wanted to see it you’ll have to find out where in Montreal it’s hanging (hint: a bar on Crescent st.)

If you look up pictures of the anti-christ it is 4 pages of pictures of Obama…oh America.


There is no picture posted of the dog in full. There will never be a full picture of the dog. The impression is made well enough with her eyes, but from the pictures you can decipher that she is not a big dog.

Her size comes into question when she tries to do the kind of thing a big dog would do like saving you from drowning or retrieve ducks or on a rabbit hunt. Only a couple of those really come into play, what with being city folk and all.

So there we are, early morning, fishing away. Looking to hook something for some lunch. It is the nice kind of lake you think ‘I probably wouldn’t even get beaver fever from drinking this lake water while thirsty’ which you should never do…you’ll be very sick. Then you’ll poo yourself…while a girl slaps you and calls you an idiot…. So it’s early morning, the fish are out. It’s quiet. Smells fresh. No boats on this isolated lake. Wild turkeys around. Bears in the dump. Near that town the Tragically Hip sing about. Bobcaygeon.

Just a man, a woman, a dog, and nature.

Really a nice time to relax, but there are more than a few fish in this lake. The dog trouble comes in every time we are reeling a fish in to the dock the dog sees the fish and jumps in to get this fish that is about the size she is. No way to get out, no real plan, just sees a fish and jumps at it. That was one of the first times I thought my dog was an idiot. Tries to be helpful, but really doesn’t think things through.

She isn’t the only one that doesn’t think things through. After pulling this confused wet little monster out of the water countless times we had a bucket with a couple of fish in it. The part not though through is when the bucket was carried up to the cottage, plopped down on the picnic table. Threw one of those slippery silvery buggers onto the wooden picnic table. Not being a usual fisher went through the usual round of fish murder techniques:
-Punched it in the mouth

-Hit it with a rock

-Held it upside down and whispered that it was an idiot then hit it against the table while crying

-Pulled out a big knife and cut it’s head off (actually worked)

The mouth just keeps opening and closing, all bodiless and bloody. We have started drinking heavily to make me feel less guilty for punching and dirty talking to a fish. Fuckin little bitch ass fish, I’m gonna getcha so bad.

It was 9am and there I was drunk gutting fish and calling my dog an idiot.

 

I’d make a great country bumpkin. Also here is two drawings of the dog cause I made two trying to get a good one, and didn’t…so here:

 


It’s nice that dogs let you know when they need to go out, and when they want attention and even when they want to play. The part that gets me about it though is when she wakes me up at three or four a.m. just staring at me poking me in the face. This gets me thinking…about bears.

If I were a bear and I had some little jerk poking around in my cave and waking me up after I been asleep for 2 months and I hadn’t eaten I would just maul the hell out of that thing. I would tear it to shreds then wear those shreds like some horrible vintage tattered dress made of man skin or some kind of Jana Sterbak design.

Not only would I maul them but I would truly enjoy it. I was never really that afraid of bears cause I always thought to myself:

‘I’m not going spelunking so I’m safe’
or
‘I probably don’t taste as good as a fresh salmon anyhow’

But bears are the the reason I stopped dating a girl. What I saw as her irrational fear of bears just made no sense to me. It was an obstacle I couldn’t get around. Walking drunk in the woods at night or along cliffs I always thought that the last thing you need to worry about is bears. She would shout and cry, hootin and hollerin ‘I sure hope there aren’t any bears around’ and I would yell ‘I just want to see some goddamn bears, would you just shut your damn trap for 10 minutes’.

Never got to see any bears in Banff or Vancouver Island, did try and fight an elk. Poor decision making.
Next girl I dated, took her to a dumpyard. We watched the bears. When that hulk of an animal started lumbering towards us for getting too close and we screamed and ran to the car I thought maybe the other one was smarter but fuck bears are cool.

All this to say that when that dog wakes me up I think about eating it, or at least just punching it in its tiny adorable nose, so here is a picture of it staring at me at night:

And another one cause I haven’t drawn one for a few days: