Me and the Dog

Deeogee.  That's his name.  D-O-G..get it?  If you're under 8 years old, it's a natural, but as we overthink everything in our world, something so simple seems to evade us at times.

The dog was not welcome here.  Having recently lost my first dog Gus after 11 years, I was not in the market when proximity and chance conspired to land me my latest best friend.  It has been funny to see him grow up, like a second child, with a slightly jaundiced eye towards his independant streak.  It has been quite a challenge, but we are now a team and working on the traits of a couple of old buds. 

Sometime in June, he will be 6, or 42 years old in human years.  Close to my age, we are both living the same life in the same house.  Both of us ain't getting any - and are getting fatter by the day.  Getting out for a w-a-l-k in the p-a-r-k is a high point for both of us as well.  I feel for the guy.  Something was bred into him that prepared him for a life that just isn't there anymore.  You see, no matter how much dog whispering I do, he still wants to eat, screw, play, crap and fight.  In that order.  Buried inside that thick skull, he is a genius at getting those things.  Period.  The problem is, I can't let him run free, chase squirrels, hump a bitch or "get the stick" around here anymore.  Society has neutered him, turned him into a pooping machine.

Like I said, same life.