Croc

Croc’s Breakfast Adventures: A Morning Routine

Things went Croc’s way for once this morning. For once I slept later than Bud, I normally feed and water the dogs first thing in the morning. It’s written in stone for Croc. I picked up Croc’s dish, filled it and put it in front of him. He gobbled his food, like always, looking at me plaintively like Oliver Twist. “Please Ma’am? Can I have some more?” He got no more.

jLittle dog turned his nose up at his breakfast, like he usually does. When given the word, Croc gobbled it, too.

just then, Bud walked in the living room. “I fed Croc.” He told me.

”Oh no! I did, too!. He was begging when I came through.”

Happy Homecoming

Our big guy, Croc, was so glad to see us after our three day trip, He’s always unhappy to see the suitcases come out but feels better after learning, Kylie, his dog sitter will be staying with him and his brother, Izzy.

Croc came to live with us about six years ago. His original owner was a forty-year-old man in South Carolina who died suddenly. Grandma, an eighty-year-old lady, was overwhelmed by his rowdiness. Sadly, she had to return him to the shelter. Since it was winter, Croc was sent to New Jersey, which had a dearth of adoptable dogs in winter. A relative’s family gave him his next home. Their tiny NJ yard was inadequate. Croc caused a ruckus, disturbing the peace of the neighborhood.

We’d learned to love him, so brought him home with us. We were concerned about how he’d get along with our old American Eskimo dog but they became friends at first sight. Croc just adores children. When we are lucky enough to have a young visitor, he tries to claim them for himself.

Puppy Love

I think my big dog is breaking one of the commandments.  Do commandments apply to dogs?  He covets his neighbor’s wife.  When we are out walking and meet Ruth, he knocks himself out to get her attention.  When she brags on him in her special, doggy voice, his tail goes into overdrive.  I have to dance around out stay out of its way to  avoid bruises.  He pulls hard on his leash trying to get to her, I guess he’s thinking she’s the kind of girl who goes for bad boys. He does super deep, open-mouth breathing blowing hot air out of his gigantic mouth. It sounds for all the world like the deep breathing on the old-fashioned obscene phone calls that cellular phones ruined forever for perverts.  All the while, he’s dancing a four-legged jitterbug, the only time he moves that fast. At one hundred thirty- five pounds, he does serious damage connecting with your foot.  When all else fails, he bows up and deposits a giant poop before her before kicking up a dust cloud. Turning subtly, he peeks to see whether Ruth is impressed.  Sadly, she isn’t, striding off leaving clean up for me!  It wasn’t even my love offering! In truth, he’s like a lot of males past their prime. In truth, he is like a lot of males past their prime, flirting right along despite being overweight and  balding.

Mysogyny

“She’s sick.” Miss Ann confided as she handed over her precious Yorkie I  had just agreed to  responsibility for. “I’m kind of surprised she made it this long. We are both sick and I just can’t take care of her no more. Her medicine costs forty dollars a month and I just ain’t got the money.”. My heart fell. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Irritable Bowel Syndrome,” smiled the vet, mindful that Biscuit’s bowels had already paid off like a slot machine in the seven years Biscuit had been her patient.

Miss Ann sure knew how to hold her tongue till the deal was done. “Don’t worry. She goes on paper.” not mentioning Biscuit preferred towels, rugs, socks, slippers, dog toys, or whatever seemed expeditious.

Buzzy, my gentlemanly American Eskimo Dog, met us at the back door. She warned him off with a scowl, informing him things were going to be different from now on. When I put her down, she smiled contently and pooped on my shiny hardwood floor. Spotting Bud, she strolled over and daintily pawed his ankle. When their eyes met, true love pulsed beween them.

She shot me a look. “You ain’t woman enough to take my man.”

Deal of a Lifetime

You’ve seen my posts about my one-hundred twenty-two pound Mastiff mix, Croc.   Just so you know, Croc does have a few faults, but he is a good eater.  I tried mixing kibble with a can of dog food to encourage Buzzy, my little dog to eat.  It’s not unusual for Buzzy to go a couple of days and not touch food.  When he finally gets hungry, he will run by and grab two or three kibbles.  The mix only enticed Buzzy for a day or two, though it did enable Croc to gain ten pounds in a couple of weeks.

All that eating pays off like a slot machine.  Croc regularly cranks out four major poops a day.  Bud does all our accounts.  Based on his calculations, Croc’s poops cost about a dollar each.  That’s one fancy dog.  Hopefully, it was a good economic move to cut him back to just kibble.

All that food creates a malodorous symphony.  Needless to say, Croc is not constrained by modesty and sounds like the tuba section in a brass band. The concert doesn’t seem to disturb him, but he has been known to get up and move when the odor is powerful enough to make his eyes water.  He appears to hold a grudge toward us if the aroma moves him along.  It’s not unusual for him to glare at us accusingly if he’s especially offended.

So Horrible It Has to be Shared!

Have you ever had an experience so horrible it had to be shared? Maybe something smells or tastes so bad you cant leave it alone. ”Taste this! It’s disgusting!” Over your poor friend’s protests, you insist. “No really, you gotta taste this! It’s horrible!”

That’s why I have to inflict this story on you.

A few days ago, I got an early start, vacuumed, mopped, changed my sheets, and tidied up before settling into my comfy chair with my laptop to write. As I gathered my thoughts and awaited inspiration, Bud and Buzzy approached the patio door.

Buzzy, my American Eskimo Dog is sedate and well-mannered, so it startled me to see him burst through the patio door like a bat out of Hell before he launched himself half-way across the room into my lap. As Bud headed to his office, he nonchalantly mentioned Buzzy might be suffering from some abdominal distress. Sure enough, Buzzy rapidly spun three three or four rotations in my lap and on top of my computer. I tried to calm his nerves and was assaulted by the smell of feces and the nauseating sight of an excrement-smeared computer screen and filthy clothes. Wisely, as I struggled to dig out from under the tornado of a poop monster, Bud disappeared into his office feigning deafness.

Heartbroken by his poor welcome, Buzzy fled to a place of consolation, my fresh bed. Like his wolf-ancestors, before lying down he made two or three circles to prepare his bed. Miraculously, Bud had somehow become aware of the festivities, as had our other dog, a huge Mastiff mix, Croc. Not wanting Buzzy to have all the fun, Croc inserted himself into the melee. The curious one-hundred twenty pound dog jealously trying to stay between Buzzy and his pursuers complicated the situation exponentially. Croc had no clue what the concern was since he and Buzzy greeted each other genteelly with a sniff of the nether portions first thing every morning, but had no intention of being denied a good time. 

With a bit of a scuffle, Bud shut Croc out while  we progressed to the bathroom as Croc howled in outrage., “I poop a lot more than he does!  Where’s my party?” Not having had a chance to evaluate the situation, I wrestled Buzzy into the sink, but not before most bathroom surfaces took on a fine patina of poop. Holding Buzzy in place, I ran water and added soap for his bath. Very quickly, I became aware a sink-bath wouldn’t suffice. Taking him to a tub outdoors was out of the question, so he was destined for his first shower. Naturally, he could hardly be expected to shower himself, so I climbed in. Surprisingly, that was the easiest part of the ordeal. He behaved perfectly throughout the process.

Fortunately for the sake of our marriage, Bud didn’t get off too easily. While Buzzy and I showered, he cleaned the walls and floors, all the way back to where Buzzy had made his grand entrance. By the time the shower was over was over and Buzzy dried, the bed was stripped and the washer and hamper were full of disgusting laundry. As a special bonus, the sink was plugged with excreta and long, white dog hair, another diversion for Bud.

In the week before, I had intended to get Buzzy in for grooming. Much to his joy, I’d never made it. Though his coat is beautiful, particularly in hot weather, it benefits from regular brushing. I am especially careful to brush him thoroughly before bathing to remove loose hair and minimize matting. Sadly, Buzzy had not advised me of his plans. He was so matted after bathing, I wasn’t able to finish the job in one brushing. I’d brush a while , let him take a break, and pick up with the job, later. Some mats even required scissoring, something I’ve never had to do before. I think I’ve gotten enough hair out to upholster another whole dog. Sadly, all that brushing makes Croc even more envious. He’s required an inordinate amount of brushing, too.

Many hours later, things settled to normal.  Next time I am ready, I’ll be more specific in my search for inspiration.

Meet the Help

I don’t know how people get by without dogs.  We have two, Buzzy, an American Eskimo Dog, and Croc, a mastiff mix.  They shoulder a lot of responsibility around here.  Below, they are pictured helping Bud in the shop.

Buzzy is on weed patrol.

Croc valiantly keeps the Fed Ex man at bay.

They are both checking to see whether this pillow should be on the floor.

Serving as area rugs.  Notice the white fluff about halfway to the TV.  Croc thoughtfully pulled it out of Buzzy’s tail and left it there for me, just in case I was looking for some.

They also keep the floors free of snacks at all times.