I have a dead dog. She did a dead just before Christmas 2003, meaning I can quote another dead family member in my Granddad and say “what a Christmas!” Though the thing there is he was writing on a piece of his bomber he had kept after hacking his way out of it, as it had just crashed during the Second World War (that’s an odd sentence – it didn’t crash during the entirety of WWII, as that would be a ridiculously long crash. You get the point. Shut up). So anyway, the point there was it’s not really comparable.
My reason for saying it is clearly more necessary. Obviously.
Anyway, my dog was called Krissy, and was a cross-breed between a something and a something else. We never actually knew. She was a fat bastard, and while she often claimed it was a genetic thing it was actually because – quite literally – the only food she didn’t eat was lettuce. In fact, she ate much more than just food, what with her being a dog and all. Nature’s scrubbers. I think horse shit was something of a delicacy to the little wanker.
People often claim dogs are intelligent, as they can recognise commands, use phones, build Hadron Colliders and other such nonsense. Well, I think my dog must have been retarded. We used to take her for walks in Creighton Woods in the town where I grew up – on one such walk we encountered an abandoned den clearly made by some local kids/vagabonds. In the middle of the discarded paraphernalia was a decent-sized section of what I can only describe as rigging (think pirate ships if you don’t know what I’m on about) on the floor. Now, my dog was inquisitive – she probably thought there were pies somewhere around – so she trotted around looking for something to gorge on. No sooner had she began the food quest that she found herself tangled by the legs in this rigging (think pirate ships if you don’t know what I’m on about) with a dumbfounded look on her face. If dogs are capable of looking dumbfounded. A swift lifted rescue occurred, obviously needing four men to carry the chunky bugger, and we set off to explore more of the verdant surroundings.
Not five minutes later, the dog was missing. A bit of a look around and a few calls of her name later we found her, back tangled in the rigging (think pirate ships if you don’t know what I’m on about) with a thoroughly perplexed look on her face. This happened an additional two times before she finally learned to stop getting caught in the rigging (think pirate ships if you don’t know what I’m on about) with a stupefied look on her face, as it really annoyed us. Later that same day she dug up a cat that was buried in a vertical-facing death-pose (think pirate shi… oh wait). Seriously – the thing was buried vertically and when she pulled it out of the ground it looked like the thing was jumping straight up, out of the gates of hell.
This is why dogs are amazing, yes, but it’s why my dog was better than every other dog in the world. That’s not even mentioning the time she decided that the stick she would pick up – while my brother and I were walking on a path just wide enough for the both of us – would be a whole branch. Then she decided to gallop down the path from behind us, past us. That dog was a complete, total and utter remmer of the highest order. She was also utterly hilarious and an absolute joy from the day we got her to the day she decided to stop functioning as a living being. VERDICT: 10/10
I have no idea why this came about. I suppose it’s the risk you take when you say you’ll write something every day. I saw someone with a dog earlier, it gets me reminiscing. Yes, it’s about as dull as listening to someone recount their dreams, but SHUT UP.