Hello everyone, Sean here! I figured that it was about time for a post reflecting on just what we've been doing here twice a week. After all, we've covered about 20 of Home Treat Home's pups since restarting and reengergizing the Doggy Blog last fall. Also, I desperately need to get out there and take some new photos of everyone before I embark (ha ha) on sequels to those fine posts.
Anyways, just wanted to take a moment to say how much I appreciate the chance to hang out with all your dogs every week. I know many of you likely work office jobs during the day, or at least that's what I tell your pups to assuage their fears that you disappear into the ether when you leave in the morning. I also know that all of you would much rather be at home, hanging out with your awesome dogs instead of pecking away at a keyboard (even if you love your job, it's hard to beat spending an afternoon with a pooch). Working for Home Treat Home gives me the opportunity to do just that, from morning to early afternoon, while getting reimbursed for the privilege at the same damn time. It's a pretty great deal. A pretty great deal that would be totally impossible without fantastic clients like you guys (and if you're reading this, have a dog, and don't use us for walks or dogsitting, what exactly are you waiiiiting for?). We really appreciate the relationships we've built with all of you, and all of your dogs, and we hope that you feel the same.
Enough sappy sincerity, people come here for esoteric references and long narratives (fictional or otherwise) about doggo adventures. So, here's a trademark (I should really stop saying this...I don't think you can trademark a syntactical structure) bulleted list of some random anecdotes that haven't fit in any other posts thus far:
- Once, while walking Biddy and Mac, who you may remember from their sordid Irish gangstering, we noticed a strange man on the sidewalk acting a bit erratic. Not that out of the ordinary in any large city. Biddy and Mac cracked their collective knuckles and shot me a look as if to say: "You want we should tell him to scram?" I calmed them and we continued walking. Right by Biddy and Mac's apartment is a business with a big front window, in which a dog typically lounges in the sun. As we approached the man and the storefront, we all noticed that the man was leaning forward, kissing the window, pulling his head back, and then repeating the process. The window dog (windog) was rejecting this man's kind offering by ignoring it completely. All I could think of was how dirty that window was.
- Daisy and I were walking in her neighborhood when we saw a man gliiiiiding down the street. We both deduced that the man was riding on one of them there hoverboards (which is either a great product name or a horrid one because it implies hovering when clearly you are rolling on big ol' wheels). Daisy rolled her eyes so hard she fell over. I did the same. After collecting ourselves, we followed behind the man watching him as if he were some exotic creature in a zoo. He stopped at a red light and sorta rocked back and forth to retain his balance. As the light turned green, he leaned forward, lost said balance, and simultaneously fell backwards and launched his hoverboard into traffic. His "Batman" hat and wraparound shades stayed on, unfortunately. Daisy and I once again fell over, this time from hideous laughter.
- Abby gets a lot of attention from strangers. It's warranted, but not always appreciated—much like any attention one may get from strangers. One time specifically, a man walked up to us and asked what kind of dog she was:
- I replied "Beagle."
- He shook his head.
- I repeated "She's a beagle."
- He shook his head and said "Nahhh that's not a beagle."
- I said "What?"
- He affirmed his disagreement.
- I lost all sense of reality. Looked at Abby, wondered if she was indeed a beagle. Wondered if she looked the same to me as she did to this man. Questioned the subjective nature of my perspective versus his. Who's to say who was right about what kind of dog Abby is. Aren't dog breeds a construct anyways? Where does a beagle end and a basset hound begin?
- The man had walked away.
- Abby proceeded to go #2, as if to confirm her existence. I was reminded of Samuel Johnson's refutation of Bishop Berkeley's assertion that all matter is merely ideal and does not exist in the real universe: Johnson was said to stomp his cane on a large stone in the town square and shout "I refute it thus!"
- SImilar to Abby's tale, I was walking Lucy the shar pei one afternoon when we encountered one of her many admirers on the street. This man asked what kind of breed Lucy was, and I responded "shar pei". He asked if she had always been that wrinkly, and I said "Yes". Lucy took this opportunity to do one of her signature moves: shaking her head such that any saliva trapped in her facefolds sprays out in all directions, making a sound akin to slapping one's belly with a firm hand over and over again. She then proceeded to unroll her tongue and clean up her face a bit. The man we had been talking to looked like he'd seen a ghost. "Her tongue is black!? What's wrong with her tongue, man?! What did you do to herrrr tonnnnnnngue?!?!" I assured him that that was a feature of the shar pei, not a bug, and we calmly walked on. Lucy looked ecstatic.
That's all for now, we'll be back Friday with a brand new post! Thanks again, we appreciate your friendship and business! Tell your friends! Tell your dogs! Tell your dogs' friends! Tell your friends' dogs!