I don't know if it's the water or this new puppy in my life, but I have become a little old lady at this point in my life. I think the latter may be the actual reason: the fluffy poof that is "Frosty" the Maltese dog. My girlfriend initially wanted an accessory/pocket puppy, I wanted nothing to do with it so I played the dead dog card as long as I could. I finally relented and we got a tiny 6 lb puppy dog poof thing, I wasn't ever a small dog person but my inner old lady seems to be coming out. Coming from a large dog history of over 13 years this transition has been difficult to say the least.
I cringe when I think about the changes that have occurred in my dog husbandry habits over the past six months, especially when compared to what they were with Rhino. Yes Rhino a proud monstrous dog of war, weighing in at 95 lbs and 2000 years genes worth of pure kill. This dog and I would proudly storm the mountain at break-neck speeds fully "tongue out" attacking every creature and trail we found. We never stopped for anything except injury or potential death, we killed things, ate sticks and made a general nuisance of ourselves. Nowadays I find myself walking the poof at a break neck 23 min mile, with a Burberry leash and collar, oh and if it's wet we better stay off the leaves, cant have little mitten poofs getting damp, that might require a detangler. Yes a detangler... In the old days a detangler was pulling the briars or possums off Rhino while we both laughed at the battle with roguish grins.
Then the grooming, yes the current situation involves shampoos, conditioners, blow dryers and fluff outs. When I was a man and did manish things with my hell beast, we would gladly hit the hose up in the front yard and revel in the mud and guts being washed off each other as we spilled OUR beers. It won't be much longer before this fluff-ball poof weasel needs to be brushed and clipped weekly as he fills out his full coat of poof. I can see myself already wearing a pink apron and grooming this pocket fluff while the View is on in the background.
The one interesting development that has come from this transition to middle-aged womanhood that I am experiencing, other than the menopause is a heightened sensory perception. This all started when we would go on our daily bathroom walks in the backyard. When I would walk Rhino he would shoot off into the woods somewhere far away, hopefully on neighbors property and do his worst. I would hardly have to listen at all to make sure he went. The huge waste of a days worth of killing and burying things would hit the forest floor with such audio clarity there was no doubt that it was over. Now of course things are a bit different, after pleading with the floof to "please go potty" he saunters off to the edge of the grass where I can't really see him and gingerly squats. Much like a well tuned ninja my senses have become so sharpened I can now actually hear his itsy-bitsy rabbit droppings occur. So the ninja skill leveling I appreciate certainly, but still...
To watch me tear around the house playing silly chase games and throwing numerous stuffed animals to this guinea pig of dogs is a sad sight to behold. I really should start wearing ball gowns and drink mint juleps at this point. Rhino would be rolling in his hand dug grave (that he would have gladly helped dig, he was that bad ass.) I have a conclusion of sorts, this is a rebound dog situation! I don't actually like being a lady boy like this, I don't even like sweater shopping! This is the only explanation. This is certainly a rebound dog... Whew I feel better, gotta go brush the puppy's teeth now!
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