she’s a cheagle.. beagle/chihuahua mix
i’m going to cry
READ THE LAST ONE OUT LOUD
YOU WILL NOT BE DISAPPOINTED
in 7th grade i turned to this kid that wouldn’t stop talking during class and i said “eric im going to shove this pencil up your ass” and my teacher called my mom and made me tell her what i said and my mom laughed for like 4 minutes
People sometimes ask how Otis gets his exercise. Thankfully he makes that pretty easy for us. We throw a tennis ball and he chases it with great enthusiasm. Over and over until he flops over from exhaustion.
Each morning I take him out. He saves up all his urine during the night so that he can reconquer the bush the raccoons keep peeing on. Then it’s time to poop. This takes him a while. He will wander the yard sniffing for the right spot. He’ll stop in an area, plunge his nose into the ground, and take deep sniffs. This spot has potential but it’s not quite good enough for his poop to reside. You’d think it would be easy to find a place to poop when the whole world is your toilet. But sometimes in life, having too many choices can make it much harder to decide.
He finds the perfect spot and assumes the position. I stand very still and look the other direction. He is very sensitive to distraction. Any noise or movement could break his concentration. He has been known to stop mid-poop to chase a squirrel. Once the deed is done he takes three steps in front of the poop and violently kicks his back legs at it. As if to say, “Vile excrement, I shun thee!”
It is now time to play.
At any given time there are several tennis balls laying about the yard. He must decide which he is to chase this morn. Will it be the shiny new green one? Will it be the old soggy ball that has seen better days? Or will it be the one dad ran over with the lawn mower? Once the choice has been made he presents it at my feet. I bring out a walking cane so I can give the ball a proper whack. If you pick it up and throw it each time, he cheats and tries to get a head start.
That cheaty little cheater.
I like to taunt him a little before I hit the ball. I will swing the cane and stop right before the ball. He hops on his front two feet and gives me a little frustrated bark. I do this 2 or 3 more times and he hops higher and higher, growing more impatient. It may sound mean, but I do this for good reason. If you just hit the ball normally, he will chase after it with a leisurely run. But if you wind him up, he will dart after it at max corgi speed. When there are leaves in the yard they actually kick up in the air leaving a trail behind him as he speeds after the object of desire.
There is only one thing that can interrupt Otis during a chase. There is a school down the street. Little by little, large yellow buses pass by delivering elementary kids to their day of reading, writing, and arithmetic. You can hear the buses coming from far away. Otis knows the sound of their diesel engines. When he hears one coming, the ball-chasing stops. He calls a time-out and sprints to the corner of the yard to get a good view of the street. And when the bus finally passes by he barks with great passion.
I don’t know if he is mad at the bus. His bark is loud, but it doesn’t sound angry. I sometimes wonder if he just wants an education. Maybe he is trying to get the bus driver’s attention—hoping one day they will stop and let him go to school. He wants his own desk. A Scooby-Doo lunch box with PB&J. He wants an Adventure Time backpack filled with all his supplies. Paper, pens, pencils, erasers… perhaps that cool box of crayons with the sharpener built in the side. A trapper keeper to stay organized.
He has always been a curious pup and I think he has a desire to expand his knowledge of the world. It all seems so big when viewing it on stumpy legs. Perhaps knowing more about it would make it seem smaller and less intimidating.
If only that giant yellow beast would hear his calls and stop.
I cry tears of laughter
I think one of the saddest things is when two people really get to know each other: their secrets, their fears, their favourite things, what they love, what they hate, literally everything, and then they go back to being strangers. It’s like you have to walk past them and pretend like you never knew them, never even talked to them before, when really, you know everything about them.
this is so real
An Englishman, a Frenchman, a Spaniard and a German are all standing watching a street performer do some excellent juggling. The juggler notices that the four gentlemen have a very poor view, so he stands up on a large wooden box and calls out, “Can you all see me now?”
Took me about ten minutes to finally understand this
It helps if you read it in the accents….
pretty little liars on We Heart It. http://weheartit.com/entry/83884179/via/jennasdfg
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