Bert
Those of your plaintive cries emoting “Enough patriarchy-blaming, already! Show us the dog!” have not fallen on deaf ears. Here is young Bert, now a solid 8 months old, stalking one of the 1672 half-inch cricket frogs that populate the idyllic riparian milieu at El Rancho Deluxe.
As you can see, Bert is dainty, and believes that he will probably die if he gets wet above the hock. This is not ordinarily considered a virtue in a golden retriever, but I’m willing to overlook it on accounta he digs holes so well. His other hobbies include sticking his butt in your crotch, and sticking his nose in your crotch.
Not Bert
We watched Westminster together the other night, but Bert fell asleep before the golden won best in group.
In the cutthroat world of professional doggism, male dogs are called “dogs” and female dogs are called “bitches.”
I am at home, sick and off of work (although I have to go look at places to rent this afternoon), and the “Bert - Not Bert” captions made me laugh out loud.
Score one for Bert and Twisty, zero for weird achy soreness.
You must be a very proud dog mummy Twisty. Bert is lovely to behold, a very fine beast indeed. I would love to know what the butt in the crotch thingy is all about though, my dog does it too, its kind of annoying. Could the patriarchy be to blame?
Have you taught Bert to hold out his pinky when he picks up his teacup? I think that’s the kind of thing a good spinster aunt would teach.
There should be a cable channel devoted to Bert. All Bert All Of The Time. Or post a video blog to illustrate his many skills. The public demands it.
Bert looks like a champion stream-traverser. As long as the stream is very shallow, anyway.
I was just thinking yesterday that it was time for another Bert picture!
I actually have two of Bert’s puppy pictures saved on my computer. God, that makes me sound like a stalker, but honestly I just love dogs and Bert was a gloriously adorable baby-puppy (with a talented photographer for a mom). As someone said: ears of extreme floppitude!
I wonder if the butt/nose in crotch thing is a variation of what my dear (and now departed) golden retriever, Whiskey, used to do: nudge your crotch with his nose in order to elicit a head-scratching, then as soon as your hand began to move down toward his head, rapidly turn around so it was his hind-end under your hand instead (above tail, thankfully). He had quite the yen for butt-scratching, and I’ve since noticed a number of other goldens with the same urge.
Whatever it is, I enjoy Bert.
Cute!!
Me: “PK, come look at this picture. What’s this dog doing?”
PK: “Pfffft. Trying to catch something?”
Me: “Yes! Guess what?”
PK: “I don’t know.”
Me: “A frog!”
PK: “Idiot* dog!”
*I apologize for my son’s rudeness, and hasten to explain that by this he means only “very silly.” We are working on getting him to quit with the name-calling. For the sake of context, he calls the cat “stupid cat” and me “bad, idiot mama.”
Adorable!!! What a huggable, lovable, darling dog! Just please don’t tell my cat I said that.
More Ro-tel, too!!! I confess I was smitten by her picture in her little pink tutu-like thingy. “Bouncy, flouncy, trouncy, pouncy, fun fun fun fun fun!” (The foregoing quote being from The Wonderful Thing about Tiggers, a song that Aunt Kelley is repeatedly forced to sing to four nephews and a niece.)
Alas, Kelley, Ro-Tel is no longer the adorable little pink cherub suggested by that photo. She has evolved into a sort of dervish, speaking in tongues and consorting with unmentionable spirits.
A proper spinster aunt, Twisty, would keep Tom Delay away from the child.
What??!! You let her talk to Congress?
He’ll figure out the water thing. It took one of those floaty hunting-decoy thingies tied to a 30 ft. rope (so that I could get it back if she refused to get her dainty belly wet) to get my Wookie to figure it out. Now she’s a champ and retrieves tennis balls slingshot as far as momma can out into the lake, she even leaves a wake she’s so fast.
There aren’t many things better in the world than looking at a picture of a happy dog.
What is it about dogs in general and Goldens in particular? I just love ‘em. I see Bert has his tail up for the stalk. You can tell when a Golden is interested in something ’cause up goes that flag. I am also about to become a 2 1/2 Golden family again after losing a 14 year old in October. A baby boy is coming my way on Sunday, the first baby boy as all others have come to me as grown rescues or baby girls. I only hope 11.1 pounds at almost 8 weeks does not indicate a moose in progress. And none of my pure goldens (3 so far) has been a big swimmer. They would go into water till it got to their heads and then turn back. They have been retrieving fools though.
In my house, it’s called rump-rubbies. My doggie-boy comes up and quite soulfully puts his head in my lap, and when I naturally reach to pet him, quick-change switches around so his rump is right there under my hand. I think it’s because while they have free range of their privates, right there above the tail is one place they can’t reach. My Maximus is not a golden, he’s a black flat-coated retriever, but there you are, I think most dogs have only one or two things on their minds.
Wookie does the cutest butt-scratchie dance, she’ll push her way through your legs (as you scratch down her body) till her rump is right in front of you, then when you scratch it she wiggles it back and forth like she’s trying to scratch it on a tree or something (nearly knocking you over in the process as she’s standing in between your legs and she’s tall enough that it’s hard to keep both feet on the ground when she get’s going). If you stop, she just circles around to try again.
Never mind Westminster, Bert belongs in the Miss America pageant.
I have a cat who does the bait-and-switch–lead with the head, follow with the tailbone. And if you scratch the tailbone hard enough, he’ll compulsively lick whatever is in front of him. No twitching, no wiggling, just licking.
Bert belongs in the Miss America pageant.
OK, now you’re just asking for trouble.
By the way, I want you to know that I refuse to scroll down your blog until that hideous udder picture is no longer on the front page.
“Rump Rubbies”. Hahahahaha!!! I love it. I know have a word for my cat’s love of my-scratching-her-just-at-the-base-of-her-tail. Arches her back and tamps her back paws, purring loudly all the while.
Sharoni, I’m appropriating your word. Do I have to pay royalties??
I refuse to scroll down your blog until that hideous udder picture is no longer on the front page
Oh but the udder looks so perfect the way it’s juxtaposed just above the multiple pink Ass-Bag Trifecta heads. Sort of like it’s gazing at its own reflection in a lake or something.
No royalties necessary, Kelley, enjoy! I also have a cat (Punkin) that likes to have her rump scratched, but if you do it enough she gets all riled and wants to nurse. This means she climbs up on my shoulder, digs in her claws, kneading away, and soaks whatever clothing happens to be in the way while trying to obtain some sort of nutrition from a highly unsuitable source. They say it’s because she was taken away from her mom too soon, but I don’t know, I found her on the street all scrawny and tiny.
Rump Rubbies, Rump Rubbies, Rump Rubbies! I just can’t help myself, what a great phrase!
FYI: My secretary, who doubted my sanity anyway, is now firmly convinced that I’m completely round the bend. What else could the poor woman think when she hears a random burst of laughter, followed by me shouting the words “rump rubbies” out of the clear blue?
Save the udder, please.
Idon’t usually poke around in the poor man comment threads because of the high testosterone levels, however. I don’t know who these guys are but they might be human.
Carpbasman Says:
February 18th, 2006 at 3:54 am
You need balls in a sport. Balls that everyone can have the opportunity, and the desire, to touch.
Wanking is thus a sport.
TheClaw Says:
February 18th, 2006 at 4:01 am
Wanking is thus a sport.
How do you keep score?
Demogenes Aristophanes Says:
February 18th, 2006 at 4:17 am
How do you keep score?
Palm follicle count minus lowest score on the eye chart divided by mouth breathing index.
Awww, what a cute puppy!
you are so lucky to have a dog. I don’t have a dog. I wish I had a dog. I’d give a useful limb to have a dog.
did you ever read the book “A pack of two”? it’s all about women and dogs and the bond between humans and animals.
In my house, it’s called rump-rubbies.
I call it butt-checking.