Video of Faith, a bi-pedal, walking-upright dog. She can stand up on her own and everything.
I shit you not.
Make no mistake, I hate the Tennessee Volunteers. Most right-thinking people do. But I am still sad to hear of the passing of Smokey VIII, UT's bluetick coonhound mascot, due to kidney disease. Smokey was 11 years old.
"If there ain't no squirrels to chase in Heaven, then I'll see you in Hell!"
Finally, Runner's World on-line posts a piece that combines my two favorite things (besides heroin and tranny hookers): running and dogs. Unfortunately, it's only useful if you're some kind of namby-pamby pantywaist:
What can you do to protect yourself from canines on the run? For answers, we went to dog training expert, Karen Peak, owner of West Wind Dog Training in Prince William County, Va. Below are her tips:
IF YOU ARE CHASED . . .
Slow down. Slow your run to a walk. "The prey instinct dogs have is triggered by fast movement," says Peak. "Slowing down to a walk makes you seem less interesting."
Walking sounds like a great idea. I want to make it as easy as possible for the dog to catch me and chomp my ass. Walking makes you seem less interesting, all right. In the same way it's less interesting to buy a Thanksgiving turkey at the grocery instead of hunting it, shooting it, and cleaning it yourself. Sorry, but that dog's gonna have to earn me. I think the best idea is to get out of the dog's territory as fast as possible. As soon as you leave, he'll leave.
Turn around. Turn and walk in the opposite direction of the dog. Don't stare. "Staring a dog in the eyes can be interpreted as a threat by some dogs," warns Peak. "Keep the dog in sight, but avert direct eye contact."
Don't avert your eyes; you'll lose the dog's respect. Let him know that you're the one with the cerebral cortex and opposable thumb, and you're not about to take any shit. And what's this walking in the opposite direction nonsense? If you let the dog tell you where you can go, the dog has won. And so have the terrorists.
Be boring. If the dog approaches you, stop and stand very still. The more boring you are, the less you'll interest the dog.
See "Slow down," above. The only thing worse than walking is to stop entirely. Yeah, let the dog size you up, get a running start and really take aim at your crotch. Sounds like a great plan.
Report it. If an aggressive dog continually threatens you on a run, choose a different route and file a report with animal control.
Once again, you follow this advice and you've let an animal with a brain 1/4 the size of yours (it's science) tell you what you can and can't do. And you're a whiny tattletale to boot. Man up, Nancy!
This is my favorite, though, because it's straight out of A Christmas Story:
IF YOU ARE ATTACKED . . .
Hit the ground. If the dog attacks, cover your head and curl into a ball. "Your best bet in an attack is to minimize access to the soft tissue areas such as your throat, face, and belly," says Peak.
Start yelling. But scream something that you know will get people's attention, such as "Fire!" "Help" may not do it.
Remember when they get ambushed by Scut Farkus ("So help me God, yellow eyes!") and his toadie Grover Dill ("In our neighborhood, you were either a bully, a toadie or among the nameless rabble of victims."), and the little brother who can't put his arms down plays dead? "Andy lay there like a slug. It was his only defense."
Don't be such a fuckin' Mary. Laying down only gives the dog easy access to your throat, face and stomach! He's on four legs, man. Unless it's an Irish wolfhound or a mastiff (in which case you're dead no matter what, so you should spend your last moments praying rather than walking away or stopping), the dog won't be as tall as you. And will respect a well-placed kick to snout or ribs.
My advice is, don't let some dog be Alpha. You be Alpha. You're a grownup for chrissakes.
I know everyone in the whole world already posted this story two days ago, but so what. U.S. scientists have managed to bring a dog back to life. I'm soooo not kidding.
Frankly, I don't know how I feel about this. On one hand, I'm proud; I'm like, is there anything dogs can't do? On the other hand, I'm extremely unsettled by the concept of zombie dogs. I mean, it's not like they're shambling around eating brains or anything, but still.
Her real name is Flower, but we call her The Cheat. Because, like her namesake, she cheats. She'll cheat you out of your chair by acting like she needs to go out. As soon as you get up, she'll take it. In fact, if she had a motto, it would be "Take what you can. Give nothing back." And she does. She'll take your blanket, your pillow, your spot on the couch, your side of the bed, your dinner, and your Frosty. Basically, she'll take advantage of every inch you give her. What she won't take is any shit from anyone.
Don't let the gentle countenance and small stature fool you. What lurks behind those soulful brown eyes is equal parts unbridaled avarice, malice and animal cunning. She'll kill you just to watch you die.
I shit you not, I saw this at the grocery store today:
What genius greenlighted this? Honestly. What kind of person wakes up one morning and decides to pitch a dog food styled after one of the most disturbing, horrible movies of all time? What's the message? "More likely than not, you will eventually have to kill your best friend. Deal with that harsh reality every day at feeding time with Old Yeller dog food!"
This, from the Kroger press release about the food, is not to be believed:
"The movie is a timeless classic that transcends generations, and we believe this brand will appeal not only to original fans, but to the millions of Americans who share the same kind of special bond with their beloved dogs," said Barry Vance, Kroger senior corporate category manager.
Special bond?! Is he kidding? Hey, Barry, the kid had to shoot the dog! Didn't you watch that part? I mean, I cried for like a week. What the hell kind of person wants to reinforce that horrifying imagery?
"Bringing Disney's Old Yeller brand to a trusted retailer like Kroger was a natural fit," said Christopher King, category director, Disney Consumer Products FMCG. "Disney's Old Yeller dog food is for those dogs that are part of the family."
So much a part of the family, in fact, that we'll take them out back and take their lives if they get sick. And after we kill the dog, we'll go ahead and send grammy out on that ice floe. Callous bastards.
I usually file stories like this under "Dogs. Is there anything they can't do?": Pooch Pounces on its Master to Alert Him to Fire. But, seeing as how the story pretty much confirms every stereotype about trailer park America, there's just too much comedy gold in the story to let it go at that.
The first time the dog jumped on his chest Tuesday, Joseph Favre tossed the tiny pooch across the room and went back to sleep.
But Gizmo would not give up. He jumped on Favre's chest again, barking and scratching at his face. Favre cocked his arm for another toss, then inhaled a noseful of smoke.
So, right away I have one more reason to favor dogs over people. Who could have blamed Gizmo had he let the guy burn to death. Skip ahead:
Gizmo belongs to Favre's fiancee, Wendy Smith, who shares the mobile home off Belcher Road with him, the dog and their three children.
Unmarried. With three kids (one of whom seems to be named after a porn legend). Living in a trailer. I'm not judging, I'm just saying.
Also, check out the picture of Gizmo. He's one of those froo-froo toy dogs that yap all the time, like the dog Christopher sat on and killed on The Sopranos. The dog, of course, was foisted on the guy by his girlfriend, as no man would ever have a dog like that.
Gizmo and Favre got along fine when he and Smith first started dating. But Favre thought the dog had too-frequent accidents in the house. He also trained the dog to be protective of Smith and the kids.
The dog weighs about 3 pounds. What's Gizmo going to protect against, leprechauns?
The result was a love-hate relationship between man and dog. Though Gizmo sleeps with Favre, he also frequently growls at him and even bites. In fact, Gizmo, who is about 8 years old, only has three teeth left in his mouth. The rest have come out from biting Favre.
"They've all been imprinted in my hand," he said. "He hates me, but we have an unconditional love."
More evidence that the dog is a better person than most humans I know. And I'm still trying to figure out that quote from Favre.
He said Gizmo normally stays away from his face, but persistently jumped on him Tuesday after the fire started.
"It was like he was talking to me," said Favre, who claims Green Bay Packers quarterback Brett Favre as his third cousin.
No word on whether Brett claims otherwise.
When he woke and smelled the smoke, Favre said he bounded off the couch and ran for the door, accidentally stepping on Gizmo on the way out, causing the dog to squeal. They both emerged safe, though Gizmo's snow-white coat was colored a smoky gray.
Just so we're clear: the dog wakes Favre up to save him from the fire, then Favre tramples him on his way out the door. What a prince.
I don't think there is (except maybe hold a pencil). Case in point: this dog got hit by a car, then checked himself into St. Francis hospital (how apropos):
Tokio, an 8-month-old boxer, had just been hit on S. 16th St. by a car that sped away.
Rather than hide somewhere and lick his wounds, he limped through the doors of St. Francis Hospital - that's St. Francis as in friend to all animals, but also St. Francis as in we mostly treat humans here.
And he collapsed in front of the registration desk, a few feet from the saint's statue.
He had to get through two sets of automatic doors to get to the front desk. Remarkably, Tokio had only cuts and bruises; no broken bones, no internal injuries. (Link via Bud Norton, via The Anomalist.)
Dogs can also raise children, apparently:
A Mowgli-like wild boy who appears to have been raised by a dog since he was three months old has been discovered living in a remote part of Siberia seven years after he was abandoned by his parents.
Andrei Tolstyk was discovered three weeks ago by social workers who wondered why the seven-year-old had not enrolled at his local school in the beautiful Siberian region of Altai.
Deprived of human contact for so long, Andrei could not talk and had adopted many dog-like traits, including walking on all fours, biting people, sniffing his food before he ate it and general feral behaviour.
I meet and talk to a lot of people on a daily basis, and, frankly, I don't think the dog did any worse than most parents. In fact, we have a shorthand note we use at work (which reminds me, I need to update my bio; I don't practice law anymore): "rbw," as in "raised by wolves." That's how we tag the rude, abrupt, obnoxious and unfriendly. The aforementioned Bud Norton uses it at his firm whenever someone eats someone else's food out of the refrigerator or otherwise leaves an unholy mess in the common kitchen (he also feels most of his neighbors are rbw, but those hilarious tales are his to tell).
The Dogblog family sends out its heartfelt condolences to cyclist Tyler Hamilton, who lost his dog to cancer today. Tugboat, a yellow lab, was nine years old. Tyler commented that Tugboat was his child and his best friend, feelings with which I am intimately familiar. Until you meet again, may God hold Tugboat in the palm of His hand.
Hamilton will wear Tugboat's ID tag around his neck for the rest of the Tour.