People are funny about dogs. Dogs are funny about people, too.
After almost a year of not having a dog, we decided to take the plunge again and get a puppy. I'm crazy, I know. I just love dogs, I really do, but they are work....a lot of work. Zeke is an American Bulldog. He looks exactly like the dog on the Little Rascals movie. He's got a white face with one eye patch, which always makes him look sad. At 14 weeks, he was 35 pounds.
Zeke is a lot sweeter than our last dog. The boys can do almost anything to him and he just wags his tale. He's full of love, but as stubborn as they come. For instance, he likes to poop inside. I'm not sure why, but he has a gift for holding it when we take him around the neighborhood. The minute he comes inside, he circles our table, and let's loose. Maybe he's shy about outdoor pooping.
When I picked him up from the vet after snipping off the family jewels, the vet chuckled that I was his owner. He had thrown up two matching kid socks and one, plastic snake. She bagged them up, while giggling, and out the door we went. Two days later, he stuck his head through the top of his kennel and almost choked himself to death. I continue to find plastic animals littered in doggy leftovers on our kitchen floor.
He snores. He farts. He scratches under the bed until I want to kill him.
He's kind. He's gentle. He loves almost everyone (well, except for Jeff) and the kids adore him.
As I write this, he's managed to get the sheets off the bed and is chewing loudly on the mattress tag that just won't come loose. He doesn't even respond when I yell his name. I have to wonder how this dog, of all the dogs in the universe, made it to our house to live. I do believe it's a love/hate relationship that's going to last a lifetime.**
** No animals were hurt in the writing of this blog post.