Dogs 61-70

Those of you who kept track of your Egyptian mythology may recall Anubis,* the god of the afterlife whose job it was to figure out if you were going to their version of heaven or hell. Well, he's back, but lucky for us, he's not really "into" that whole judging-the-dead thing for the time being. Yoga classes. You know.

* At least I think that was him.


This guy wants whoever tied him up to come back right now. Look at his feet, though! It's like he just walked through a paint store or something. Well, maybe just his back feet.

You're invited to conjure that mental image now. Go on! I SAID DO IT.


"Can't fuckin' b'lieve it, kick me outta there, will he? Wait'll he comes out, I'm'a kick his ass."

Is it just me, or are all poodles just surly? I've only met maybe one mellow poodle in my time, and I think he might've just been a very dark retriever with identity issues and access to a small but very speedy curling iron.


Considering he had no idea who I was, this guy was pretty damn happy to see me.


So was this smilin' fella. And people wonder why we like dogs?


He isn't looking up because he's busy pondering the inner workings of that leash reel sitting next to him, as though it contained the secret to his freedom.


Pretty morose-lookin', ain't he? To be fair, a moment before I snapped the picture, I had to break it to him that pro wrestling isn't actually real.


Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you Blue "Boo-Bear" Hibbs (sp?), longhaired Alaskan Malamute and undisputed king of the Mission. Within his fur he hides at least seven other lesser dogs.

I actually did sit for a while with him and got to talk to the person walking him, which is the only reason I know his name. Boo-Bear has some ideas for us that I think we need to pay attention to, but it's not my place to say what they are. Mostly they involve petting the top of his head, and also behind the ears. It seems like a pretty reasonable platform to me.


Your Majesty, the people. The people, His Majesty.

You're welcome.


I got down for a closer look, and this old dude just came right up and said hi. It was at this point that it occurred to me that I needed to start carrying around biscuits.


At this distance, this guy looks pretty normal for a spaniel, right? Or maybe a spaniel mix? I'm not even close to being an expert in dog breeds. I know for damn sure he's no Russian bear hound, though.


But check out what happens when you get closer and have a look at them bloodshot eyes.

On second thought, maybe he is part Russian.

"In Russia, wodka used for currency. Also to replace aqueous humour in eyeballs. Side effects. Is medical shortcut, you know how goes. Spare rubles for fireplace stuffing?"