Tag Archives: dog

Gotta get a dog, still

Unfortunately, Christmas Day contact with a pooch of hilarious… ness has made my desire to own a canine of the caninical variety stronger than ever. I am now trying to formulate a plan of attack for how I would be able to effectively look after a pooch of my own and not end up killing it.

Probably with a hammer (that I received for Christmas).

I work every day, I go fairly early and get back fairly late, so a puppy that needs attention is out of the question. I live in a house where the landlord is borderline insane and Very Unlikely to allow pets, so owning a pet in this flat is out of the question. Also I’m a broke-ass punk all of the time and dogs need you to invest in things for them so they don’t die, so being able to afford anything while owning a dog is out of the question.

Basically, it’s out of the question.

But I reckon there’s a way – I just need to sit down and come up with a plan. I’ll probably paint said plan, or something. But I need suggestions. I could quit my job and become a farmer, meaning not only would I be able to earn loads of money by selling my milk to Asda (don’t ask where the milk comes from) but I could make the dog a working dog and spend time with it so it wouldn’t feel neglected. Also it could hunt beavers for nutritional reasons, meaning I wouldn’t have to buy it food thus saving me time and money.


I might just build one out of soiled hammocks, though. That or re-buy Nintendogs. Hmm. There’s a way through this, I’m sure.

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New massive dogs wot I dun want

I no longer want an Irish Wolf Hound. Why would I want a dog made to kill wolves when I could get one made to kill bears?

Thanks to Reddit, obviously, I have learned of the existence of two brilliant-looking breeds of dog today and I must have them both. First up, though in second place on the I Want list, is the Tibetan Mastiff.

Now, I wanted an English Mastiff, but look at these buggers. They’re clearly amazing and were created to be owned by me, even if they are about 10 times bigger than me. I mean, I wouldn’t want to clean up their dumps, but there you go.

And it would make people stay the fuck away from my shit, yo.


But top of the new I Want That Dog list is the Caucasian Shepherd Dog. Just… yeah. It used to be used to hunt bears. HUNT BEARS. Mainly because to kill a bear you should fight it with something that might as well be a bear.


Not that I have anything against bears. In fact, I kind of want a bear too. Though I’m not sure if the bear would be able to live with Clive the bear-hunting dog.

Suppose there’s only one way to find out, really. I’ll just not bother telling my landlord – it’ll be easy to hide two dogs that are bigger than me and a bear. EASY.

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Things I want change a bit, though not much. I still think I have some fairly realistic, if not a bit stupid, expectations for Stuff Wot I Will Have at some point in my life.

For example, I want a Clementine tree. You, the regular, loyal, sexy readers of this here blog know damn well how much I adore that particular brand of fruity fruit. To have my very own fruity fruit production device would be THE BEST OF THE THINGS. They can even live in this country, though it would likely require a greenhouse and to take it out of the outside (“inside”) when the weather turns cold.

But it would be great, and I don’t think it’s that crazy a want. I mean, they’re hundreds of pounds and I’d need to live somewhere with the space for it all, but I’m going to be a millionaire thanks to my crack empire soon enough, so there’s that.

I also want a dog. I like dogs as much as I like clementines BUT NOT TO EAT HA HA HA I do wish dogs grew on trees though. That would be funny, especially as the tree dogs would be so confused, all like ‘whuuu? Why am I in a tree lol’ and then you’d pick them and have a dog you grew.

No idea if you’d need a greenhouse though.

I also want to live in a foreign country at some point, but the problem there is I’m a tremendously nervous coward of doom who cannot cope in situations outside his comfort zone without massive help. As such, I will require someone to come with me. Maybe a tree dog. He can translate.

I have other wants too, but right now one of my wants is to not list them. So I won’t. LATERS POTATERS.

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This is my pooch*. There are many pooches like my pooch, but this one is mine. He is unique. He is an idiot. He sits down like a dickhead. He hasn’t yet realised that his now-adult teeth hurt a bit when he play-nibbles you. He enjoys to steal things from bins and then run away from you when you try and get it out of his mouth. Generally speaking, he is brilliant.

I joked before I got to Swiss that I would want to steal Anna’s six-month-old puppy Alfie, even if he is named after an Eastenders character. It was, of course, entirely non-serious and based on the fact that I want a dog – nothing based in reality.

Then I met the little bastard. We’ve just spent the last half an hour getting up and stopping him from rooting through something or eating something he shouldn’t be eating. It’s annoying, but it’s also hilarious because he’s a cute puppy and so can get away with anything. Possibly even murder.

But if that doesn’t appeal and I just sound like a puppy apologist** then try this: this morning he didn’t know what the command “paw” meant. Now, after a fair bit of repetition, some grabbing of the paws, a fair bit of arm and hand nibbling and hilarity (in the shit “aww, isn’t he funny!” way) we had done it. We had taught a living thing how to do something. At one point it could not do what we wanted, and now it could. This is a good feeling.

On the other hand, he keeps on farting and it smells bad. Hence, dogs are shit. Literally, in some ways.

*For the next week and a bit.

**I am one.


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Dogs are clearly the greatest creatures known to man – better than humans, some would say. I would probably say that, before correcting myself once I realised how daft a statement it was. Regardless, dogs are indeed brilliant. I do not have a dog right now, but I have talked about my old dog in the past – and how I still have regular dreams about her. I need something to combat this. What could combat this?

A puppy.

Unfortunately, I am not in the position to get a puppy right now. I work too much, live in shared housing with an insane landlord and don’t earn enough to look after myself, never mind a tiny pooch.

But one day soon I will get said tiny pooch and make it my own. It will be called something like Shane (though that’s a horse’s name) and it will be a good, big dog. Not a rubbish, small dog. It will learn simple tricks like how to fetch me beer and it will kill all those who oppose me.

It will torment and murder my enemies, defend my fortress from assault and guard the very gates of my domain. While having three heads.

I think I may have gone a step too far into the realms of Cerberus here, rather than just a puppy. Sorry, I’m a bit drunk. Night.


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My dog was better than your dog

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.


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