My Dog & Christmas



I had a dog for about ten years.  He was a good dog.  Sure, he embarrassed me on occasion, but he was mine.  I hated it when he would eat the curtains and crap on the carpet, on my side of the bed.  I quickly learned to turn on the light and survey the landscape before stepping down.  He was so strategic, the Pentagon could learn a lesson from him. I wish I had night vision goggles to counter his strategic mind.  He knew where to crap, and he knew who was most vulnerable.  My dog surveyed the landscape.  My dog was cerebral.

And no one will ever forget the time he tried to hump my neighbor's kid.  But, who could blame him?  This kid was crawlin' around, looking cute, drinking his bottle.  I know, I know, it's not the politically correct thing to say, but the kid was asking for it.  Luckily, when the conquest was in its earliest stages, there were enough parents around to yell profanities at the dog, swing their wine glasses, and shame him into sulking off into the garage.  He looked so sad.  His shoulders drooped.  It was a bad night but the baby was fine.  He had some pasta and a juice box.

Usually, my dog reserved his attempted conquests for adults.  You're sitting at my table having a drink?  Yeah, your leg is gonna get humped.  Trying to relax in front of the TV?  You better be carrying a stick, because you're gonna get dry-humped by my dog.  Unloading the dishwasher?  Watch out, here comes the Dirty Ol' Yeller! That's what he did.  He was a dog.  He tried to hump things, but he was my dog, and I loved him.

The embarrassments were real.  Every couple of years I knew I would have to smooth over a ruined dinner party or  pay for new curtains, but the highs always made up for the lows.  He was original. He could fly through the air like an eagle, trying to catch his frisbee.  He was great with the kids and they would spend hours throwing things at him.  Always throwing.  Always trying to make a catch.  Running the frisbee was an afterthought.  I guess you could say my dog was a success.  Did he win any Dog Show Competitions? No.  Did he win any "Favorite Dog on the Block" trophies?  No.  He couldn't even put a sensible bark together, but he was a success.  He was the best dog I'd ever had, and he caught more frisbees than any dog I'd ever seen.

Last December, my dog got hit by a bus and he's gone.  But, don't feel bad for him.  He lived a good life, and he went out in style.

He was trying to hump a squirrel when the bus bore down on him.  I take comfort in the fact that he went out with a smile on his face and a conquest under his paws.  The squirrel? Not so much. The squirrel's family doesn't like to talk about it. In fact, the squirrel's family  hired a lawyer and a PR firm.

Now, we have a new dog.  My kids love him.  He doesn't dry hump anybody, but he's a total people person. He loves the camera!  He seems to pose whenever my wife is snapping pictures.  Everybody in the neighborhood loves him too.  "You're new dog is so great!  He's never tried to hump my baby or my cat".  "What a great dog!  He runs and runs and runs and runs and never gets tired.  I just want to grab him by his big ears and squeeze him!"  He goes out every morning and runs through the neighborhood, telling all the other dogs that he is going to win the dog show.  He talks a lot for a dog.  He likes to talk about winning the dog show.

I'm trying.  I'm trying to love my new dog.  There are so many great things about him.  He has an impressive pedigree and he came from a great family.  His ears are so soft and fluffy. If I squeeze them together and spin I could launch him like the hammer-throw in the Olympics.  I want to love my new dog!  I want to throw him and set a new World Record!

But here's the rub-I still like my old dog.   He was an idiot.  He humped cats and squirrels and got hit by a bus. He didn't always make a great impression but he got results.  Sometimes he would get stuck under the couch with a pint of Egg Nog, but he got results.  I miss him.  I miss my old dog.  I miss my old, drunk, squirrel humpin' dog.

My new dog is great, but he's not my old dog, and he never will be.  I'll still feed him, though.  And he is my dog now, so I want him to do well.  I want my new dog to win the dog show.

But, more than anything, I want my new dog to steal my vodka and try to hump a squirrel.  Take charge new dog!

Stop being such a show dog, new dog!  Hump a cat! Try it new dog!  Step out of your box!  You'll never be Governor of Texas, so what the hell!  Enjoy yourself and have fun!  Drink the Egg Nog!  Drink my vodka! Take a squirrel under the bridge! 

I want a crazy, squirrel humpin' dog!  I want my new dog to enjoy vodka and squirrels/cats/babies/legs. I want to watch my new dog throw up on the side of the road, and then later the same day win the dog show.  Is that too much to ask?



 Oh, and the Christmas part of the title?  I just threw that in to tug at the heart strings.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone reading DTN.

Get drunk and commandeer a squirrel, new dog!

<em>This is a FanPost and does not necessarily reflect the views of Viva The Matadors' writers or editors. It does reflect the views of this particular fan though, which is as important as the views of Viva The Matadors' writers or editors.</em>

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