Man's disgusting best friend

Where would the world be without dogs?

They are man’s best friend, loyal companion and are great at cleaning up food dropped on the floor.

I never truly appreciated that last quality until I had my first kid.

Junior spent more time throwing food on the floor than he did throwing it in his mouth, much to the delight of our two mutts.

The dogs were a little put out when we first brought this squawky little human home, but once he was old enough to eat from a high chair, all was forgiven.

The hounds clued in real fast that the squawky little human was a good source of treats.

Problem was, once Junior got old enough to interact with the dogs, he discovered that if he dropped something they would pounce on it and soon it became a game.

He would be flinging grub around the kitchen like the lid had come off a blender and the dogs were lovin’ every minute of it.

Dogs are also good at barking their heads off when a hoard of bad guys are at the gate and about to invade your home, or if someone walks by, or they hear something, or they think they hear something.

They're a food-disposal system and alarm system all rolled into one. Who could ask for anything more?

Actually I could ask for a few less things, such as a dog’s ability and willingness to eat really disgusting things.

A friend was thoroughly repulsed when he noticed his then three-month-old hound chowing down on a nice, big pile of deer droppings.

He literally had to pull the beast away from the stack of mouth-watering morsels and the closer he got to the hungry hound, the faster the pooch would eat.

I readily admit, I have never sampled deer droppings, or any kind of droppings for that matter, so I cannot definitively say they taste terrible, but I have also never smashed my kneecap with a hammer and I am pretty sure that would hurt.

For some reason, their dog finds stuff like that very appealing. He is now much older and still scrums down on doo-doo every chance he gets.

I present you with reason No. 2 why I never let a dog lick me — ever.

Why is that reason No. 2, because reason No. 1 is equally as bad, but more common among our furry, four-legged friends.

Reason No. 1 is universal among canines. While not all dogs eat poop, every dog I have ever had has eaten their own vomit.

Why? I don’t know. If a cat hacks something up, they look around like someone better clean that up."

If a dog yacks something up, they look around like, “Hey, hey, where did that tasty morsel come from? Don’t mind if I do.”

And then they do.

Don’t blame me if you find the subject gross. I don’t make them dine-on-dog upchuck, I am just saying they do it.

Dead things are also a popular entrée for hounds — the deader the better.

My dog brought in half a dead mouse that the cat killed and left outside in the middle of January. Murphy the Wonder Dog thought the mouse-sicle was the greatest find ever.

He came bounding into the house with his prize clamped firmly in his jaw and I had to chase him down to see what it was. I finally got hold of him and he clamped down even harder.

It took a minute to figure out what it was, but as I looked closer I noticed his treasure was staring at me with a buggy mouse eye.

I added that to the ever-growing list of why I don’t let dogs lick me — as if poop and puke were not reason enough.

Man’s best friend — absolutely — a very disgusting best friend, but a best friend nonetheless.

Copyright 2017 Darren Handschuh

Tiny kitten takes over my home

Young Daughter wanted to get a pet. Her oldest brother had a series of hamsters when he was young, and she wanted a pet of her own as well.

Einstein was the first rodent I have ever welcome into my home and lived to the ripe old age of just over two years, which is pretty good for a little furball.

He was followed by another hamster, Fiona, which was the meanest, nastiest most hostile mouse wannabe I have ever seen.

At first my son tolerated the beast because he wanted a pet and missed his old pal Einstein. But when the hamster from hell took a bite out of his finger, she had to go. First we took her to the SPCA, but they said they would not take an animal with social issues.

She wasn't an alcoholic or anything, just grumpy, but either way they would not take her. I suggested we put Fiona in the backyard with our other pet, Gilbert the cat, and let nature take its course.

It would have been a tough scrap, but I was confident Gilbert would have won, although not as mean as Fiona, Gil was a cat and only in cartoons does a rodent beat a cat.

However, the Missus would have nothing to do with using the cat as a hired assassin, so we ended up taking the stupid rat to the vet to be whacked, er, I mean, humanely put down.

“For an extra $40 we can have her cremated and put her ashes in a box,” said the nice lady at the vet's office.

I paid less than $10 for the hamster, I am already kicking out $30 to have her put down and I really don't want the ashes of a violent rodent in my house, so I think I will pass. Thanks.

We got my oldest son another hamster that lived for a couple of years in peace and harmony with the world around him.

During all of this, my middle son wanted a pet so we got the aforementioned cat. We had a dog who passed, so we got another canine: the now-famous Murphy the Wonder Dog.

Young Daughter was not too crazy about any of the critters, so I was surprised when she wanted a pet of her own. She did not want a dog – she really does not like dogs – she didn't want a rodent, fish were about as fun as a pet piece of tape, so the type of critter she was interested in was pretty much narrowed down to a cat.

But she was not too fond of Gilbert.

“Keep Gilbert out of my room” was heard echoing through my home on many occasions, but the more she thought about it, the more she wanted a kitten of her very own.

I am not a huge cat person, and we already had Gilbert, but it was not fair she did not have a pet so it was off to the SPCA we went.

After looking at a few kittens she settled on a tiny, little black and gray bundle of cuteness that she named after her stuffed toy from when she was a wee child.

Sessa-Lisa, or Lisa for short, came home with us that day. Because Gilbert is the mellowest cat in the world he could have cared less.

Murphy the Wonder Dog was doing some wondering of his own. He was wondering what the heck had invaded his home now.

She weighs less than two pounds, but Lisa put 20-pound Murphy in the run from the moment she showed up.

With a hiss, growl and a smack on the nose Lisa unleashed the fury only a nine-week old kitten can – and it worked because the past few days Murphy has been as nervous as a mouse at a cat convention.

Lisa is also living in Young Daughter's room she is thrilled to have her.

So now I have two cats and a dog living under my roof. I am glad I do not have anymore children because I do not want anymore pets.

Mind you there is this cute little puppy for sale...

Copyright 2015, Darren Handschuh

I guess I'm dumber than a dog

I was walking the dog the other day and came to the conclusion he is not the brightest penny in the purse, because every time I take him for a walk he almost hangs himself he pulls on the leash so hard.
I am sure many dog people out there are mumbling something about how to train the beast so he does not do that, and it is on my 'to do' list, right above teaching the cat to use the toilet.
Pretty much every time I take him out, the mutt cranks up his 17 pounds of raw animal power and does his best to drag me down the street.
Murphy the Wonder Hound pulls so hard he begins to choke himself. He will gack and sputter and make this nasty hacking noise, but he will not stop pulling - that is until he finds a pile of doggy doo-doo which he simply must investigate.
Watching the dog form of inspection once again makes me glad to be a human. How much fun could it be to put your face millimetres away from a big pile of doo-doo and breath heavily through your nose? For us human types I doubt it would be any fun at all, but dogs seem to enjoy it and Murph the Surf really loves it and does not miss an opportunity to enjoy such an event.
I have often contemplated what he is thinking while investigating a pile o' crap (which is yet another indicator as to how sad and pathetic my life really is.)
"I wonder if I know this guy. It kind of smells like a lab, no, wait, it might be a shepherd. Hmmm, Alpo, good choice of dog food."
He will then tire of inspecting the subject and move on, once again pulling so hard he coughs like a life-long smoker trying to climb a set of stairs.
While watching him pull on the leash and make all sorts of weird noises, I wonder just how smart does he have to be to realize it is his own actions that are causing him pain.
I had the exact same thought while paintballing the other day.
Paintball is a game where you run through the woods with air-powered markers (aka guns) and hunt your friends for sport and enjoyment.
I was stealthily hiding my 250-pound frame behind a few trees, waiting for the enemy horde to appear only to be struck down in a hail of little yellow and blue balls when I heard the pop of a paintball marker behind me, followed by the splat of a paintball as it hit the tree beside me.
Not a good thing.
I knew my sworn enemy - which is whoever happened to be on the opposing team that day - had flanked me and I was about to have a close encounter of the painful kind.
And I was right.
Before I could react, there were a few more splats against the tree followed by the most painful hit I have ever experienced in three seasons of shoot 'em up.
My valiant and noble adversary had managed to hit me in the back of the head, right where the neck and skull join.
Can you say "That friggin' hurt?" 
I could, but because there are several words I no longer say aloud, I had to keep my thoughts from becoming spoken, which was easier said than done.
When the ball hit I saw a lovely collection of spots and stars. I briefly dropped to one knee before retreating to the re-spawning area where I took a couple of seconds to gather my thoughts (and to wait for the stars to go away) before rejoining the battle.
During that time, I remember thinking about my dog who was so dumb he pulls on his leash to the point of causing himself pain.
"You dumb dog, all you have to do is not pull so hard and it won't hurt."
With the replacing of a handful of words, that sentence can be applied to yours truly.
"You dumb ass, all you have to do is stop playing paintball and you won't get hurt."
I then began to wonder who the dumb beast really was. At least Murphy didn't have to pay money to do something that hurts.

Copyright 2015 Darren Handschuh

Murphy the Wonder dog is a drama queen

Murphy the Wonder Dog has a few hang ups.
If a dog could be neurotic, Murphy would be the poster child.
He has a few odd little ticks, but the worst is he hates having his feet touched. You even brush against any one of his four paws and he jumps like you zapped him with a cattle prod.
You can imagine how much fun it is cutting his toe nails.
The first few times, I used (or tried to anyway) standard issue toenail clippers, which caused the mutt to wiggle, squirm, yelp and run like a pack of wolves were nibbling on his tootsies.
His toenails had to be clipped, which presented a bit of a problem because I did not feel like having to pay someone to chop them off them several times a year.
I saw an ad for a battery-operated rotary file thingy that showed dogs calmly sitting and wagging their tails while their owners – who were also calmly sitting and wagging their tails – gently filed down the dog's talons.
Hmmm, I wonder...
We bought one of the devices and it worked – sort of.
Murphy was much less intimidated by the mechanical file system than he was by the clippers, but the battery-operated gizmo did not have enough power to do the job before Murphy freaked out. Speed was of the essence.
We were touching his feet after all.
So I had a brilliant idea: I would use my rotary tool that can spin at 8,000 rpm. It was designed for intricate woodwork and such, but I figured I would give it a try on Murphy's ever-growing toenails.
And it worked – sort of.
The Dremel had the power to quickly shorten his nails, but I still had to touch his feet to do it. However, even a dog as dim as a 10-watt bulb could eventually figure out if you sit still for a mere 60 seconds, the deed will be done and the agony over.
Murphy is now seven years old and doing his nails is a breeze – sort of.
He still does not like it and will offer some resistance, but in general he is pretty good about it.
The problem is, he is still a drama queen of epic proportions, which made what we had to do the other day about as much fun as brushing your teeth with a chainsaw.
For the first time in his life, Murphy has a swollen scent gland and it is making his posterior resemble that of a male baboon.
Our previous dogs had the same problem on occasion and the vet showed us – or more accurately she showed my medically trained nurse wife – how to take care of the situation.
The fine details of which shall be omitted from these paragraphs because, well, frankly, it's kind of gross.
Anyway, seeing as my wife has extensive medical experience it was her job to um, er, manually reduce the size of the gland by forcing the goo out of it.
Sorry for the visual.
Seeing as I have no medical training, my job was to hold the dog still while the procedure was being carried out.
Our previous hounds would just sit there until it was done without so much as a whimper.
But even before the procedure began, Murphy was whining. As soon as my wife genlty touched the problem area, Murphy lost it and was screeching and yelping like we were killing him with knitting needles.
For a little dog he sure is strong and I had a heck of a time restraining him.
And that was even before we began the procedure in ernest.
As you can imagine, the fun increased from that point on.
He still has a swollen gland, but my wife and I agree it is well worth the expense to make it the vet's problem, so we took the mutt in to have the procedure done by a professional.
My wallet may have taken a hit, but at least my ears aren't bleeding from Murphy's very vocal protests.
Ahhh, the joys of pet ownership.

Copyright 2015, Darren Handschuh

Nude joggers, beer shootouts and stoned dogs - must be time for the news

A lawmaker in Nevada wants the family dog to have access to medical marijuana.
Democrat Tick Segerblom wants pet owners to be allowed to obtain the drug for their animals if a veterinarian confirms it "may mitigate the symptoms or effects" of a chronic or debilitating medical condition.
OK, first of all the man's name is Tick. How can you possibly take someone serious if they are named after a blood-sucking insect?
Mind you, he is a politician...
Anyway, so Tick wants the family mutt to have access to pot. The proposed bill also includes letting people access marijuana for their health needs.
The people thing has been debated and allowed in many areas for a few years now, but this is the first time I have heard about pot for pets.
This raises a few questions like, without thumbs, how is the dog going to roll a joint in the first place? (Let alone light it and hold it.)
I wonder if Tick (makes me laugh every time) owns shares in any local dog food companies because if he does successfully lobby to allow dogs to get stoned, I am pretty sure there will a spike in sales when the mutts gets the munchies.
In other odd news, it would seem people are having trouble keeping their clothes on.
Montreal police have been getting reports of a nude jogger dashing through the snow wearing only running shoes and socks.
Running along a snow-covered street while naked has got to be dangerous. If you were to slip and fall on the jagged ice you could hurt your exposed...pride.
But this clown must be brave because he is willing to run around naked in cold weather. That is no 'small' feat. I wonder if he will 'shrink' away from the spotlight now.
In Pakistan, a man was arrested after posting a video of himself riding a motorcycle down a city street in the buff. As if posting it wasn't bad enough, this guy did it again after betting his friends he could.
Police arrested him as he was leading a procession of motorcyclists who were cheering on his antics.
I thought running nude was crazy. I do not even want to think about the impending road rash if you  crash a motorcycle when you were naked.
There was no word if he was wearing a helmet (safety first) and the man is facing a variety of charges.
I wonder if he has any relatives in Montreal.
In New Orleans, a 64-year-old man is facing charges after a case of beer rage. It would seem the boozy bozo asked a neighbour for a Budweiser beverage, but was instead handed a Busch brewsky.
The pair then entered into a heated debate about the merits of certain kinds of beers. Tempers flared and in true American fashion, the 64-year-old pulled a handgun and pointed it at his 66-year-old-neighbour as he pressed his point that Bud was the best beer to buy.
Not to be outdone, the neighbhour produced a shotgun and wounded the man who had the handgun.
Police declared the shooting was self defence and that both men are idiots.
The good news is neither of the men were naked during the altercation.
And lastly, in Seattle a man was arrested and charged with robbery after holding up a doughnut shop and stealing a single maple bar.
Emplpoyees had asked the man to leave, but he then reached into his pocket like he had a gun. He ordered the employees to the rear of the store and then rummaged through the selection of treats. An employee called police who arrested the sticky finger bandit a couple blocks away.
You know this guy is going to have it rough behind bars.
It will be tough to get respect from his fellow inmates once they learn he was busted for stealing a pastry.
But the good news is, he was fully clad during the entire event.

Murphy the Wonder Dog has developed a disgusting new hobby

Murphy the Wonder Dog has started doing something new and I am not impressed.
As if barking at every living thing he sees, or charging dogs 10 times bigger than he is, or having to stop, sniff and pee on every single blade of grass in the Free World were not enough to make him annoying, this new activity is downright gross.
Murphy the Mutt has suddenly developed a passion for rolling in things.
The other day, the Missus and I were taking him for a walk along a woodland path where he could run free and enjoy nature.
We have been to this spot dozens of times without incident, but then one day Murph decided rolling in a big pile of dog doo-doo would be the perfect way to end the outing.
When we all piled into the van (yes, I drive a mini-van as required by law if you are middle aged with several kids) we noticed the unmistakable smell of dog poop.
We checked the bottom of our shoes thinking we had tread upon such a foul material, but we were clean.
I then looked back at Murphy and he had the biggest, dumbest grin on his face I have ever seen. He also had dog poop all over his left shoulder and side.
If I may, I would like to go on a bit of a rant. If you take your dog for a walk, be it around the block, in a park or along a nature trail, PICK UP AFTER THEM! It is easy to do. You just carry a little bag with you and when you dog does its business, you pick up the poop with the bag and throw it in the garbage. A simple solution to a messy problem. No one wants to step in that so don't be an ignorant jerk.
Anyway, Murph the Surf was obviously proud of his accomplishment and was thrilled with the results of his effort.
Driving home with all the windows rolled down, the odour was still enough to gag a corpse. The messy mutt then went straight into the bath, where he shook and shivered like he always does.
I had no sympathy for him whatsoever. He hates water and having a bath is like a form of CIA water torture for him, but when you roll in poop, you get a bath – simple as that.
I thought perhaps his misadventures with animal scat was a one-time event. He had never done that before, so perhaps in a moment of weakness he was enticed by the lure of, um, er, well I don't know what the lure would be, but he was enticed by it.
My hopes the event was a one off were soon dashed, however.
A few days later we were visiting my parents who live in the country. While picking some plums, I looked over and saw that same dumb grin as Murph rolled around on a pile of deer droppings.
I do not know why dogs do this and am surprised Murphy suddenly decided to take up the hobby.
I have friends with dogs that roll in everything they can find and the more disgusting the better, but they have been doing that since they were pups.
Dog poop – great. Fresh cow poop – even better. Rotting critter of some sort – the best.
But I always thought dogs did not develop new habits when they were adults. But during his sixth summer on this earth, Murphy has decided rolling in poop is just the thing he needs to blow off steam for the day.
We will have to keep a close eye on him from now on and he had better get used to baths because I suspect there will be a lot of them in his future.

Copyright 2014 Darren Handschuh