Doggy Blog

Big Mack

Today is a banner day for all you Doggy Blog readers out there. Today is the day that you get to meet the radiant beam of French sunshine that is Mack. I mean, look at that damn face:

I was holding a treat.

I was holding a treat.

Mack is but a wee boy, around 8 months old, but he OWNS his block like an old grizzled junkyard dog. Think Hercules from The Sandlot but 1/32nd the size. Someone once said that some people walk shoulders first into rooms and some people walk legs first; Mack is absolutely a shoulders first kinda dude. He PPPPPROWLS. He probably weighs 16 pounds, but he pulls on the leash like a damn ATV. It's truly a spectacle to witness his unbridled confidence on the streets. He runs into a bit of trouble around other dogs, but in that overly aggressive playful way. I think he sees other dogs as trampolines that he needs to pounce on, which is adorable but not always welcome. In true Mack fashion, it doesn't matter whether his target is a myostatin inhibited Great Dane or an anemic miniature Schnauzer, Mack wants to roughhouse either way.

In that vein, Mack also tends to get distracted by squirrels. Very distracted. We can walk by hordes of pigeons or sparrows or elderly women's ankles and Mack won't bat a wrinkly little eyelid but the SECOND a fuzzy tailed tree rat enters his vision he spazzes out completely. After a bit (and I mean A BIT) of research on the French Bulldog, this makes sense. Apparently, the French Bulldog is a mix of the English Bulldog (DUH) and "local ratters in Paris" which I take to mean terriers—although we should definitely call terriers "ratters" from now on because then they sound like punk bands (Jack Russell Ratter, Pit Bull Ratter, Yorkshire Ratter, etc). And since the squirrel is just a tree rat with a delightfully loud tail OF COURSE Mack wants to chase and dismember the thing. So far he hasn't caught one, but I can tell his hopes are high.

Mack, after I swatted a street almond out of his mouth.

Mack, after I swatted a street almond out of his mouth.

The above picture illustrates another of Mack's traits: he likes to eat things. He is a growing boy and needs his calories. I've thwarted all of his attempts to consume street snacks, the closest call being the street almond from the picture. Thiiiiiiiiings Mack has tried to eat:

  • The aforementioned almond. I can almost forgive him for this one because almonds are packed with healthy fats, but I fear that his belly woulda been rumbly after swallowing an entire almond without chewing.
  • A dead rat. He didn't really try to EAT this so much as SMELL it. However, with his dangly jowls obscuring his mandibular intentions it's always hard to tell. As soon as I noticed what he was fixating on, I jumped up on a chair and pulled my housedress up above my knees.
  • A god damn chicken wing bone. PEOPLE. Please stop throwing these bones on the street. Dogs love them and they will absolutely ruin their wee tummies. Mack didn't get anywhere near the deep fried remnant, but he certainly wanted to.
  • A McDonalds wrapper. There was no "food" left on this per se but it was likely covered in a fine sheen of grease and meat molecules that Mack was eager to mop up with his tongue. Can't really blame him, as I said, the boy is in dire need of precious calories.
  • A yellow Starburst. A bit of a weird one. I feel like dogs like savory things almost to a fault. Typically the funkier the food item the better. A yellow Starburst seems like it would almost be inert to a dog's foodfinding senses; no gristle? no salt? no oily fat globs? But, he sniffed the hell out of it until I pulled him away.


Overall, Mack is a ray of sunshine to walk. He also does this cute thing where, upon returning to his homestead, he scampers towards the gate separating the kitchen from the rest of the house and gently headbutts it open. Melts ma damn heart. Here's to you Mack, Lord of Squirrels, Starburst Enthusiast, Font of Eternal Optimism!

Happy Friday y'all!