Boyfriend plays WoW arena with a guy who has a menagerie of pets at his folks’ place (he’s a college freshman this year), and occasionally tells us hilarious stories about their personalities and habits. He off-handedly mentioned that he has taken to brush the dogs’ teeth almost every day since they were puppies, and I almost died. SO CUTE. I demanded a video of this, and he sent a pic with this IM conversation:
In case you didn’t know, dogs are the best.
Here are some dogs having an awesome time pulling sled.
I rest my case.
It’s Halloween! The best holiday ever! Everybody dress up and act silly! Kids! Eat all the candy! Adults! Wear your costume to work (and stop dressing like sluts)! Everybody get a little scared! Time to watch A Nightmare Before Christmas! Don’t do any work at Office Job! Mess with kids at the dojo! Hooray!
I was stressing this morning on my way to Office Job. I didn’t see a single person in costume. A bunch of elementary school kids crossing the street with their parents were all in uniform. On my walk from the car to campus, still no costumes. I had to ask the woman who was stopped at the crosswalk with me, “It’s Halloween today, right?” She laughed and confirmed, yes, today is Halloween, and my costume is awesome.
My costume came about in the way most good things do: as the result of harmless shenanigans. I used to teach an hour-long free martial arts class to my friends every Saturday morning for a while at a park nearby Boyfriend’s old apartment. One day we discovered our usual spot taken by a bunch of lunatics training their dogs to go through the kind of obstacle course you’d see at a dog show. We were not amused. It was the only shady spot at the park that wasn’t muddy, and it was ours. We had to get it back. So we hatched a plan that involved one of us dressing up as a dog owner/trainer guiding another of us dressing as a dog through the obstacle course (with varying degrees of success). Naturally, I was the designated dog. We got a camera, a leash, and a dog costume. We showed up at the park a few weeks later, ready to roll, and they were gone. They never came back. We were pretty bummed.
And yet behold! A Halloween costume was born, and all were glad. I’ve worn this costume for… wow, four years. The first year I went to a party in Mid-Wilshire, got drunk, and barked at people who knocked into me in the crowd. When else would that be even remotely appropriate? Only on Halloween!
OMFG ok so apparently there is a professional photographer (named Carli Davidson) who has FINALLY decided to do what I wanted to do in middle school: take photos of dogs mid-shake. You can see them here.
For the record: Dogs are awesome, and in no small part because they do hilarious stuff like shaking all their loose skin around so hard that they hit themselves in the eye with their own lips. I think people love dogs because they’re the same animal before and after doing something stupid and humiliating. They’re panting and happy before they accidentally run into the wall on their way down the stairs, and they’re panting and happy afterward. Who wouldn’t love that kind of hilarious consistency?
I had a 130lb golden retriever growing up named Buster. He was the BEST. He would lean on you with all his weight if you pet him, and fall over if you stepped away too fast. His tail was so strong that it could (and did) slam doors. He would occasionally go nuts, and run up and down the stairs at break-neck speed for no reason, only to slip on the wood floor at the base of the stairs, and roll around in my parents room with a mad look in his eyes before taking off down the hall again. When we played with him, he would never gnaw on us too hard. Mom would yell “Ow!” when he chewed on her arm, and he would let go and calm down until she pet him to show she was ok. He kept her company at home while she took time off work. Sister liked to put hats on him, and tried to get him to sleep in her bed (he always took up all the room). He was a total softie, and would scamper to hide behind us if a significantly smaller dog barked at him on the street. I once kicked a dog that went after him. When the owner yelled at me, I told him to put his (significantly smaller) animal on a leash. The only time anyone ever heard him growl was when Mom was home alone, and a man who came to the house wouldn’t let her shut the front door on him. Buster apparently stood next to Mom and snarled. The man left. What a great dog. We found him in 1995 wandering the streets while babysitting another golden retriever named Sadie. He died at home in 2002 while I was on a first (and last) date with a friend. He was the BEST.