Ode to the Pawed I

Dog Days.

I have been busy walking/jogging my sister's Aussie Shepherd, Blue, lately and that has gotten me very nostalgic for other dogs that have been a part of my life. A dog is always good entertainment, and read below for examples.

Our family has not had very good luck with dogs. But each dog is different, just like their Humanoid providers, with a different set of likes, dislikes and marking style.

PARIS

First there was Paris, named after my mom's first encounter with the man who left me and by brother wombless, dadless and two parent-less. Paris was a doxin, or for those Germanically inclined, a daschund, which is a breed known for back trouble and a keen dislike of rabbitkind.
Bay windows are irresistible to dogs, (especially short ones living life as a canine on the down low) but until canines develop a biped stature and climb the evolutionary ladder, bawdy for the back.
The more Paris watched out over the neighborhood, glancing at BigWheel gangs in spider-man iron-on T's and large Ford thunderbird parked in driveways, the more is vertebrae yelped in protest. And when dogs are in significant physical pain, and we perturb them, they turn on us.
So enter my toddler-aged brother, to pet the 'pwety doggie.' Paris was having a particularly painful series of back spasms. The human baby poked and prodded him, interrupting his gaze of a particularly smokin Chihuahua out on the sidewalk. Paris was having none of it-
A nip to brother's left cheek left a permanent scar- just a quarter inch away from his right eye. Rather than give our ailing pooch a second try to make the firstborn son a Cyclops, Paris was handed down his sentence: He left to another world, where a sterile steel syringe delivered eterno-nappy time.
Rest in peace, Paris. But honestly, mom and pop were blind to the marketing potential that was within their grasp- Just imagine if the hound had nabbed that peeper, nipped off it sinuous nerve bundle and scarfed down its gelatinous center right there in the dining room.
Imagine a children's book- in the young adult section. My Brother, The Pirate: A Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Series. Or, a Bumper sticker or perhaps a T-shirt proclaiming: My brother lost his left eye to a gimped-out dachshund. Now THAT would attract media attention.

MERLIN

Merlin was a stray. Part husky, part malamute and part other. He came to our porch on winters' day and departed 12 years later, leaving this world to pass on to another. His mortal being is doing well in its role as lilac tree fertilizer. Merlin never barked, never made demands. As an abandoned puppy with an awkward gait and the occasional bout of gas, he warmed us to his charms. He knew his limits, and pushed them accordingly. Near the end he had some skin problems, and due to his typical canine inability to speak English, the problem was difficult for him to explain. But he had a great life, went on many road trips and always welcomed us home from school by poking his his through the curtains in the breakfast nook. With dogs you get what you pay for as for as pedigree and behavior, and Merlin made it fun to have him around. He died peacefully as big dogs often do, took one last run on the beach, harassed the seagulls one more time, then lay down and quietly sailed away to the land where cats aren't clawed, it rains dog bones and there is always someone in season.

BLUE

Blue is a dog of character. He has an affinity for barking at wheeled vehicles. He considers them a threat. He is an Aussie shepherd, a breed Australians have heard nothing about. At age two he has already left the farm he grew up on, failed out of puppy university and consumed several dried pig ears, his snack of choice. He's a good dog, and probably would be of more utility if he had something to herd, as that is in his genes- herding. We expect another decade at least of his antics.