Look at this face!
We should have known when we got him
that he was a timber wolf in fluffy brown fur.
Is missing his prototype ecologically sound, "green" garbage can.
And we have found him. It's been a while since I updated you about Gil, the English Shepherd pup Becky got last March. He was so cute....the little rascal.
Nowadays, he is a big, strapping, forty-pounder, lush with orangy-brown fur with black trim, huge expressive brown eyes, a fox's brush of a curly tail, an attitude that would do a bucking bull proud, and an insatiable appetite for......
Everything. Rocks, leaves, dirt off people's shoes is a big fave...certain individuals wear those Godawful cleated boots with deep grooves in the tread. No matter what I do they tromp through the house without taking them off....gotta use the john, or pick up a letter or some other urgent objective that precludes taking time for shoe removal. (Those of us with slip-on rubber barn boots leave them on the porch where they belong.) The cleated clan leave trails of dried up little lozenges of mud (and no doubt all the other good stuff they step in every day) all over the floors. And they must be delicious, yummy, nummy, better than tiramisu with fine wine.
Because Gil loves them. You will be sitting there quietly when, crunch, crunch, crunch, he is chomping on something he found. (Wouldn't be a problem except he has a delicate tummy.) You may have just swept the floor with the big broom that gets every grain of sand...or so you thought...when chomp, slobber,drool, he's at again. At least he chews his food....so you can snatch it from his jaws of death
Talking as he revs up to gnaw ankles
Woe betide the snippet of hay that falls out of a pant cuff. He's on it like a duck on a June bug. Bread bag ties must be extracted most urgently. The rings off milk bottles, heck even the milk bottles if they fall. This morning he was worrying a burdock, slurping happily, soaking it with drool like a full time bloodhound. At least he will usually give up his treasures for a kibble.
And did I mention the moaning? When he gets in the mood for crazy play he first yodels and moans and groans and yips like he's talking. Don't talk back to him though or you're in for it. He will roll on your feet then...and bite them...tenderly...just a little around the edges, pinch, pinch. Maybe a nibble or three on your ankle bone.
Bigger smile, bigger teeth
I will give him credit for being smart in some ways. Just for the heck of it I taught him to sit when I look at him in a certain tone of voice. It helped that I was eating crackers. He stood beside me, his entire soul reflected in those big brown eyes; you could just tell he would offer up his kingdom for a crumb. I stared until he plopped his butt down, then tossed him a bit.
A couple of crackers later all I had to do was glance his way and his fanny hit the floor. Isn't it fun to teach other people's doggies useless tricks?
Anyhow, that's what's up with Gil these days....quick Beck, he's got another rock.
....oh, and I forgot. When I got iBird Pro for my phone I discovered that the call of a blue jay drives him crazy and he barks and barks. Not too much of a problem...just don't listen to jays on the phone. Except that now, there are really jays hollering up a storm out in the yard.
Will somebody please shut that dog up!
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