Bulldogs are an amazing, gorgeously ugly.
Last night my Dad told us we were talking the dog of a Marine who's leaving for Afghanistan, an ugly bulldog with a big overbite and sleepy eyes whose name is Jiggs after the Marine Corps... I don't know exactly what jiggs comes from but it's something to do with the Marine Corps. I love her already.
She plays tug'o'war (actually she wins tug'o'war by pulling me over and tackling me) and she barks, she also loves to be petted and she' not actually that bad looking though she's certainty no beauty. This is her, laughing at us as we try and get her to pose and then it's her posing, obviously just humoring us by doing as we ask.
I think that, even though she isn't exactly the beauty queen that she's perfect. She even knows tricks! (she can shake your hand, but only when she's calm and sitting) Jiggs loves playing and she's hyper, though maybe that's because her time schedule is messed up.
Her owner used to leave her in a crate al day then take her out at night so she didn't sleep at all last night (Ha! She sleeps in my sister's room so she was barking all night and... well, serves her right for making my parents let the dog sleep in her room) At this moment we are watching her to make sure she doesn't take any naps so she's actually fall asleep tonight.
Just a little history on my family and dogs:
My family has always had a dog, wether is was our Great Dane Brutis (big as a friggin horse, at least it seemed like that to to me when I was four) or our Dachshund Dellie (that didn't last long at all) we have always had at least one dog. Other pets have come along, like my Guinea Pig and Mom's parakeets, but our must-have was a dog.
Last year, when I lived in Virginia we lived in a rented house. The land lord said pets were okay... as long as we paid around four thousand a year for possible damage (it wasn't even that great of a house, totally a cookie cutter bird house the same as every other house in the neighborhood). Suffice to say my parents said no to getting a dog. We lived like that for two years, whenever we saw a dog we'd fawn and coo over it because we were dog starved. Then I found out we were moving, I cheered up because we'd certainty get a dog in the next place, even if the next place turned out to be Saudi Arabia.
But then... my Dad told us all that we had another two years to wait because my parents didn't want a mutt and they wanted a dog that they'd take with them where ever they went. Alas, my entire family became dog starved again. Our moral sank and our esteem of ourselves fell, we even stooped so low as to begin to feed the wild cats that live in our complex sardines and tuna.
We babysat a golden retriever... her name was Bella Monster... for a good reason. An absolutely horrible dog, peeing on the carpets when she got excited and she didn't know how to play tug'o'war (which is a sin for dogs). Nevertheless, we were so starved that we loved her even though she chewed up my favorite pair of shoes.
Months went by, dogs were forgotten as we became absorbed in our lives. Every once in a while we would sigh and reminisce about all of our old dogs then sigh and say "We need a dog." Dad would say, "Sorry but not now." And life would move on.
When Dad told us that we were picking up a dog in twenty minutes, I thought it was another babysitting job or just a cruel joke. When he said that we'd be having to find a place for her to sleep and discussing wether getting a bulldog was a smart idea, I realized he was truly serious.
We were getting a dog.
We got a dog.
We have a dog!
After three years of horrible dry faces and hands, of perfect shoes, and tug-less tug'o'war ropes, we finally had a dog! Yes!
A DOG!
Can you tell that I am very happy? Nah, I bet you couldn't. Anyway, Thanks for reading...
Irish Princess
(in my dreams)
Rabecca
Last night my Dad told us we were talking the dog of a Marine who's leaving for Afghanistan, an ugly bulldog with a big overbite and sleepy eyes whose name is Jiggs after the Marine Corps... I don't know exactly what jiggs comes from but it's something to do with the Marine Corps. I love her already.
She plays tug'o'war (actually she wins tug'o'war by pulling me over and tackling me) and she barks, she also loves to be petted and she' not actually that bad looking though she's certainty no beauty. This is her, laughing at us as we try and get her to pose and then it's her posing, obviously just humoring us by doing as we ask.I think that, even though she isn't exactly the beauty queen that she's perfect. She even knows tricks! (she can shake your hand, but only when she's calm and sitting) Jiggs loves playing and she's hyper, though maybe that's because her time schedule is messed up.
Her owner used to leave her in a crate al day then take her out at night so she didn't sleep at all last night (Ha! She sleeps in my sister's room so she was barking all night and... well, serves her right for making my parents let the dog sleep in her room) At this moment we are watching her to make sure she doesn't take any naps so she's actually fall asleep tonight.
Just a little history on my family and dogs:
My family has always had a dog, wether is was our Great Dane Brutis (big as a friggin horse, at least it seemed like that to to me when I was four) or our Dachshund Dellie (that didn't last long at all) we have always had at least one dog. Other pets have come along, like my Guinea Pig and Mom's parakeets, but our must-have was a dog.
Last year, when I lived in Virginia we lived in a rented house. The land lord said pets were okay... as long as we paid around four thousand a year for possible damage (it wasn't even that great of a house, totally a cookie cutter bird house the same as every other house in the neighborhood). Suffice to say my parents said no to getting a dog. We lived like that for two years, whenever we saw a dog we'd fawn and coo over it because we were dog starved. Then I found out we were moving, I cheered up because we'd certainty get a dog in the next place, even if the next place turned out to be Saudi Arabia.
But then... my Dad told us all that we had another two years to wait because my parents didn't want a mutt and they wanted a dog that they'd take with them where ever they went. Alas, my entire family became dog starved again. Our moral sank and our esteem of ourselves fell, we even stooped so low as to begin to feed the wild cats that live in our complex sardines and tuna.
We babysat a golden retriever... her name was Bella Monster... for a good reason. An absolutely horrible dog, peeing on the carpets when she got excited and she didn't know how to play tug'o'war (which is a sin for dogs). Nevertheless, we were so starved that we loved her even though she chewed up my favorite pair of shoes.
Months went by, dogs were forgotten as we became absorbed in our lives. Every once in a while we would sigh and reminisce about all of our old dogs then sigh and say "We need a dog." Dad would say, "Sorry but not now." And life would move on.
When Dad told us that we were picking up a dog in twenty minutes, I thought it was another babysitting job or just a cruel joke. When he said that we'd be having to find a place for her to sleep and discussing wether getting a bulldog was a smart idea, I realized he was truly serious.
We were getting a dog.
We got a dog.
We have a dog!
After three years of horrible dry faces and hands, of perfect shoes, and tug-less tug'o'war ropes, we finally had a dog! Yes!
A DOG!
Can you tell that I am very happy? Nah, I bet you couldn't. Anyway, Thanks for reading...
Irish Princess
(in my dreams)
Rabecca
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