Archives for category: Dogs

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.

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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:


So I’ve been way too into the Christianity schtick lately. Apocalypse, antichrist, you know, that whole dig.

So last night after drinking too much wine I went into the corner store, asked the man where he kept his finest cured meats. He looked at me like I had two heads. I said nevermind, I’ll find the meat on my own.

I did find the meat.

It was one of the best meatsticks I have ever had, or its just been a while since I’ve had a meatstick, or I had just drank too much wine.

So in the street I started yelling about how if others wouldn’t eat this holy meatstick when the meatpocalypse came round they would not be saved.

They ate the meatstick too.

Sometimes I think that my dog enjoys meats and cheese just as much.

Did you know the depiction of the antichrist is a seven headed dog?


The dog has pretty cool hair, crimped up by the neck, like some kind of jazzercise dancer in the 80s and early 90s. Sometimes I wish though that she had hair like in the future vision of the 90s (aka Keanu in Johnny Mnemonic).

Really makes you disappointed when you watch older movies that had predictions of the 2010s and how cool they are. I am pretty disappointed I don’t have a servant robot or hoverboard. All I’ve wanted since Back to the Future 2 is a damn hoverboard.

Here’s a drawing of a dog:


What are 2 things the world loves? I’ll tell you: dogs and blogs. Fact. So here is day one of my daily drawings of my dogs. Mixed in with a few musings as to her day to day thoughts.

Day 1:

The first night we had the dog at home we were well more than a little drunk. I fell into bed and this little jerk just stares at me without saying anything, her tiny judging eyes. They said to me ‘if I were a child you would be a terribly unfit parent right now’. Damn judging dogs.

Day 2: