Many thanks to commentor Toast, whose link introduced me to the excellent Hyperbole and a Half blog…
__
__
__
We live with the ten-pound version of This Dog. Sydney, goddess bless him, is actually quite a bright little guy, but he was not well treated in his first three (at least) homes. When he first came to live with us, he was terrified of new people, other dogs, cats, stuffed animals, chewies, passing trucks, suitcases, strange noises, the dark, unexpected smells, being left alone, being crowded, and probably a bunch of other stuff I’ve since forgotten. His only two identifiable skills were defecating at a dead run, and a cat-like ability for scaling the furniture which earned him the nickname Goat Boy. But it was his bug-eyed, tail-tucked, trembling desire to be a good dog, like you wanted! that broke our hearts… and kept me from killing him during the long, mop-intensive year it took to re-train him into decent dogly sanitation habits.
Allie Brosh is a comic genius, and obviously has a warm heart as well. I look forward to reading her entire blog, and possibly injuring myself by laughing too hard…
__
General Stuck
Looks like a terrific blog. My eyelids are drooping, but I bookmarked it for later.
jnfr
Just about breaks my heart to even think it.
asiangrrlMN
Her entry on running in the Texas heat is priceless. I will have to check out this entry when I am not so mopey and sad. Your story, Anne Laurie, nearly broke my heart.
P.S. This entry about being an adult deeply resonated with me.
Keith G
I followed Toast’s link there the other day and knocked around a bit. Good stuff.
Speaking of recommendations, I am listing to really good short fiction being read at Selected Shorts via iTunes or at their pod cast link
http://www.npr.org/rss/podcast/podcast_detail.php?siteId=9911210
jl
Funny and slightly sad story. I know some one with a dog like that, and who is bravely trying to get it through one of those dog training courses. More of a trial for the owner than the dog. The dog seems oblivious, except it also gets sad when it realizes her owner is disappointed, just like the pooch in the story.
jl
@asiangrrlMN: Yes, the responsibilities of daily life post could be about me too. Except seems like she flails with more flair, dash, and skill, than I do.
BTW, how many fake internet husbands do you have, asingrrlMN? Room for one more? You said some nice things about my comments, so I am in internet love.
I am serious. I went out and got a nonexistent ring, some imaginary flowers and a 100% neverwillhappen honeymoon planned. The Tunch can be our stepchild, I am sure Cole will approve.
Except, I have to go floss my teeth now, which, as per the post you mentioned, is that One More Task that will probably cause overwhelming System Failure, which may last for an indefinite time. So, keep that in mind.
asiangrrlMN
@jl: I have three Fake Hubbies and one Fake Wifey, too. I greatly enjoy your posts and your stream-of-conscious way of thinking, so I would be honored if you joined our little family. I have proposed to Tunch in the past, but he has declined, so I think adopting him as our Fake Cat is the happy medium.
Of course, you will have to be inspected by the first two FH (they are rather protective of me) before any fake marriage can be announced. They should be here shortly. I hope you make it back safely from the Great Flossing Incident.
maus
@asiangrrlMN:
Her with the trophy is my Facebook avatar :/
eco2geek
Those pictures and the story were really funny. Looking forward to reading more of her blog.
Now for a bit of a downer. A close friend of my wife’s saw a chihuahua on the humane society’s page and decided she had to have it, even though she’d never owned a dog before, lives in an apartment, and the dog was a “last chance” dog.
She paid a “dog whisperer” $110 to telepathically contact the dog, and, among other things, found out its name was Mina rather than Rose. (I kid you not.)
Numerous frantic phone calls to my wife later, it turned out that there were multiple issues. Over the course of two days, the dog kept wanting to sit in her lap and lick her face – which she didn’t like. It kept trying to “nip” at her. She took it out to go twice and it did nothing, then later it peed on the carpet. It threw up on the rug. It peed on her clothes while she took a shower.
Early on the third day, she took it back.
(This story brought to you by the words “oy” and “vey”.)
jl
@asiangrrlMN: Oh Joy. Thank you. I’ve always imagined Minneapolis to be a wonderful city, now I can fake live their and enjoy my preconceived notions of it.
We should get a fake copy of Mark Twain’s ‘new’ autobiography for Cole for a fake wedding present (which makes no sense at all, but whatever…)
Fresh As The Day It Was Written
Digby Hullabaloo
SPENCER MICHELS: The autobiography does include social and political material Twain thought too hot for the times, like these remarks about President Theodore Roosevelt’s role in the massacre of Filipino guerrillas after the Spanish-American War.
ROBERT HIRST: “He knew perfectly well that to pen 600 helpless and weaponless savages in a hole like rats in a trap and massacre them in detail during a stretch of a day-and-a-half from a safe position on the heights above was no brilliant feat of arms. He knew perfectly well that our uniformed assassins had not upheld the honor of the American flag.”
http://digbysblog.blogspot.com/2010/07/mark-twains-latest-beach-book.html
PS: flossing only a minor disaster. Should be back up and running in a week or so, if I can put off paying some bills and buying groceries.
Mark S.
@asiangrrlMN:
Tattoosydney, Yutsano, who’s FH#3? And who is fake wifey?
This youtube has been going around a lot lately. It’s 3 and a half minutes of some guy who’s probably on shrooms really appreciating a rainbow. I hope he’s on shrooms, cause otherwise he might be masturbating; it’s hard to tell.
Yutsano
@Mark S.: El Cid is Ersatz Spousal Unit # 3. Though technically number one since he came first. And yes jl shall be vetted thoroughly. How thoroughly? Much deeper than Sarah Palin was.
Huntski
None of you know me, I’m a daily reader of this blog, luv JC, DougJ, MisterMix, Anne, hell, even the soccer updates, but I’ve been following hyperboleandahalf for the last 8 months or so, and I can say you won’t regret going back through the archives; my personal favorite is still the ‘dinosaur goose’ or whatever the hell it was called. I never do this, but this girl deserves it. Cheers, B-Juicers!
Mark S.
@Yutsano:
And who’s the fake wifey?
bago
This is a lesson in proper fucking booming. You should see it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6UFNjJzHuX0&feature=player_embedded
Yutsano
@Mark S.: jibeaux. So as of right now that rounds out the famiglia. It’s kind of Denobulan if you think about it.
asiangrrlMN
@Mark S.: There is a myth that El Cid was first, but I don’t remember proposing to him until way after proposing to TS, Yutsy, Tunchie, and one whole thread. But, it’s now family lore, so, there you have it.
jibeaux proposed to me when she was drunk on NY’s Eve, and I accepted. She likes to pretend it never happened!
Mnemosyne
Totally random thought, but why does it seem like so many of the best web cartoonists can’t draw worth a damn?
Not that I’m complaining. More like, between xkcd and Hyperbole and a Half, I’ve actually become suspicious of cartoonists who draw in forms other than stick figure. I guess I’m a cartoon minimalist now.
(Similar animated example: Simon’s Cat.)
asiangrrlMN
@jl: Minneapolis is lovely–in the winter. Right now, I am withering in the heat (yes, eighty-five is hot, damn it). I floss two to three times a day and only manage to gouge myself at most four times.
@eco2geek: Yeeeeeeah. That’s a perfect example of someone who should have given it a bit more thought before adopting a dog.
@Mnemosyne: I tend to think of those as more about the writing than the pictorials, therefore, I am a bit more forgiving of the rather crude drawings.
Yutsano
@Mnemosyne: Okay, that is just too fucking adorable. Especially since my cats are almost the exact same way when the white stuff hits the ground. Plus that drawing style seems more honest to me, if it gets too polished it’s like they’re trying to prove something.
@asiangrrlMN: Family lore with a bit of truth to it. After all, you told me he came first and was therefore technically number 3, but it somehow got forgotten in translation over the Interwebs. Or something like that. Anyway hi hon.
asiangrrlMN
@Yutsano: Hiya. I did not say that. He thought he was first, too. Man. Now I’m fake-marrying people in my sleep! Anyway, how you be? I’m gonna be crashing soon.
James in WA
@Mnemosyne: Well, there’s always kate beaton, since she’s pretty good and way above xkcd in terms of artistic quality. But then maybe she’s the exception that proves the rule.
Yutsano
@asiangrrlMN: Well someone said it somewhere to someone else and some time along the way it became truth, so yeah. Or something. I dunno, I’m cornfuzzled now.
Can I announce the big news now?
Joy
You just described my Chloe perfectly. We have been working with her for 6 months now with a professional dog trainer and I am starting to see light at the end of the tunnel. You are so right about her desire to “just be a good dog”. I try to remember that just about the time I am ready to kill her (I’m just kidding!) Thanks for the link. I always love your posts.
Tattoosydney
I is FH#1. Hear me roar!
Yutsano
@Tattoosydney: Just no scaring Pedro that’s all I ask.
Hi dear.
I think wifey may haz zonked out on us. I haven’t beaten her to bed in like forever.
Tattoosydney
@Yutsano:
So what do we know about this young man who wants to fake marry our fake wife and become our fake-wife’s-fake-husband?
ETA: If this fake family gets any bigger, we’re going to need ourselves a new vocabulary.
Gina
Thanks for the link Anne, fwiw, I laughed hard at the description of your doggie. Not to be mean, just picturing the pooping at a dead run did me in. You are blessed among dogs for your patience.
I’m currently working through a sleep adjustment scenario by which I try to reset my and the children’s sleep/wake cycle back to a diurnal instead of fully nocturnal one. We’d gotten totally turned around, getting to sleep at dawn, getting up late afternoons. So, each night this week we’ve pushed staying up by 3 hours later. We’ll go around the clock til we get to a respectable 10-11pm bedtime, 8am or so rising. My son and I have serious trouble sleeping well in a big chunk, going to be earlier never and getting up earlier has NEVER worked, so I decided to try this out. My daughter would probably be okay, but she likes to hang out with my son and me too much to settle in on her own at night.
They both have summer camp activities starting next week that are scheduled like normal human activities usually are for children, in the AM and early PM, so hopefully this remedy will stick once we get to the desired time slot. I’ve been this way since I was about 8, my son was this way from birth, so it’s a struggle. But going to bed later does seem to enable a full sleep, not long to fall asleep and waking frequently, needing naps, etc.
Today, bedtime is 2pm.
fucen tarmal
@bago:
from what i watched the industry specific term is fucking proper fucking booming.
Scott
I’ve had Hyperbole and Kate Beaton bookmarked for a while, and they are indeed worth digging through all of their archives. I just wish they were able to post new stuff more often… :)
Comrade Javamanphil
@asiangrrlMN: The weekly cleaning around the java family household now begins with a 5 minute chorus of “Clean ALL the things?” The entry about “alot” may be my favorite though.
MattF
The final illustration in Things that can make you feel like an idiot is a classic.
Scott
I think my favorite Hyperbole cartoon ever is How a Fish Almost Destroyed my Childhood.
Lamont Cranston
For the love of God, someone tell me how to house-break an adult dog! We got a Pekingese mix as a puppy and made the tragic mistake of teaching him to use puppy pads. Now, four years on, he will sit outside for an hour waiting to be let in so that he can go where he is “supposed” to go – the puppy pad in my living room. We’ve tried taking him out just as he gets ready to go on the puppy pad, and he just gets distracted when put out. We’ve tried putting puppy pads outside – he ignores them.
Someone please help me not spend the next decade cleaning dog waste off of my living room floor.
Nicole
Toast and Anne Laurie, thank you for this. I’ve spent the past two nights back in the hospital with the baby (jaundice, nothing life-threatening), and am exhausted and really needed something like that to read. I’m afraid people must think there’s a crazy person in the Parents’ room; I’ve been laughing so hard.
AsiangrrlMN, I’ll send in a pic soon, I promise. I had a great one of the baby, just after he was born that I was about to send to b-j and then realized the little flesh-colored thing at the bottom of the photo was my nipple. Caught it in time for here, not for Facebook. Oops.
Sly
My favorite Hyperbole drawing. Not because its particularly funnier than any other, just because it’s completely fucking true.
elmo
Ye gods, that drawing gets to me. I’ve had and rescued so many dogs exactly like that, who were abused, neglected, ignored, beaten — and who still, after horrors that I will not describe, want only to be a good dog.
I’m sorry, I can’t see any humor at all in that drawing or the caption. It’s so accurate, it just makes me feel sick and sad and wanting to cry.
growingdaisies
I loooooove that blog. Be sure to check out the tragic post about the fish, the one about the goose, and the more recent one about running a race in Texas. All wonderful.
debit
@Lamont Cranston: Walks, lots and lots of walks. Being outside of his normal territory will hopefully encourage him to pee, and moving about can get his gut going so he’ll poop. Then praise him and treat him each time.
If he’s alone during the day and tolerates being kenneled, that should keep him from messing if, and only if, he can hold it. Some little dogs, from what I understand, can’t always hold it for more than a couple hours. If he doesn’t take well to being kenneled, confine him in a small room; make sure he has a bed, some toys and access to a bit of water.
Our late cocker was exceedingly stupid. It took two years to house break her. I knew we were making progress when she figured out that she shouldn’t pee on the floor, and that since the couch wasn’t on the floor… One couch later we finally figured what would work for her: No kennel, because she submission peed when we went to let her out. No confining her to one room because she submission peed when we opened the door. But leashing her to the door of the living room closet gave her about a six foot radius of movement, the illusion of not being confined and yet a small enough containment field that she wouldn’t mess. Success.
I hasten to add, this was when she was alone in the house. When we were there, it was no issue after six months or so.
RaJe
This is my favorite piece from Hyperbole and a Half: The Alot is Better Than You at Everything
I would like a pet Alot.
Randy P
Well, I was going to chime in that I believe most dogs with a reasonably good temperament want to be good dogs, and the trick is to communicate to them what the definition of “good dog” is. What the rules are.
But eco2geek’s story makes me think that some dogs are just fundamentally not sane and are likely to do random “bad dog” things at any moment.
Smarts are probably part of it. There was a huge dog who lived on the edge of the schoolyard where I used to walk my Lab and let her off the leash to play. They were great buddies. The kids walking to school were terrified of him, but he really was a good natured dog. But dumb as a brick. One time I was patting him as he was all excited at seeing Cinnamon, and with no notice suddenly he turned around and peed on my leg. I don’t think it meant anything, I just think some synapse got shorted.
Redkitten
@RaJe: That bit with the Alot was hilarious! “Alot more dangerous. Baby less dangerous.”
So lovely to find a new source of entertainment.
And yes, that one of the dog is rather heartbreaking. Some poor sweet doggies just want nothing more than to please us.
Unless they’re terriers. In which case they want nothing more than for you to just let them have their way, already.
ktward
Having tortuously slogged through the culling of my bloated iGoogle, I’ve since installed an electro-shock gizmo that triggers the second I threaten to click ‘Add stuff’.
So I’m not waxing metaphorically when I say that it pained me to add Hyperbole and a Half to my ‘Chuckles’ page. But it was worth the cost of the box of finger-specific bandaids, and is now a daily part of my a.m. chuckle fix alongside TDS, The Onion, and Borowitz.
Muchas Gracias, Anne Laurie, for the heads-up.
Quick personal note:
I’ve owned a handful of adorable dogs in my lifetime, but I’ve never had a … what’s the PC term? mentally/behaviorally-challenged pooch. Perhaps I was more blessed than I knew, since every pet I’ve ever had has come from a shelter. Well, ‘cept for the Betta fish my daughter brought home from college last Thanksgiving and never took back with her. (It’s not bad enough I already converse with the cats, now I’m talking to a damn fish. But he is awful purty.)
I do, however, currently have one really stupid cat. (CW held to be a mythical creature, but I have proof they exist.) In her defense, she disguised this amazingly well and it took us 7 years to catch on. But she purrs on demand, so it’s all good. (Pick her up- she purrs. Scratch her head- she purrs. Give her a lap- she purrs. Come within 5 feet of her snuggle spot- she purrs. Can’t ask for more than that.)
LarsThorwald
Ladies and gentlemen,
I am a proud new dog owner. Meaning, I am new at owning a dog, not owning a new daog.
I had a dog when I was young. I got her when I was 6 or 7. He was a mutt, mostly beagle, found on a golf course. Her name was Divot (like the chunk of turf and soil you ineptly hack up whenever I play golf. Get it?)
She lived until my last year of college. And then one day she simply couldn’t stand anymore. She was very old, and very tired, and her body just gave out on her. After dinner my dad and I took her to the vet where she was quietly put to sleep.
And I cried like a baby.
So for twenty plus years, no dog. Too painful.
A couple of weeks ago my curmudgeonly facade regarding dogs melted in the light of the glow of the faces of my sons begging me for a dog. My wife’s voice, added to the chorus, broke me completely.
You know the drill from that point on. Lab rescue website. Selection of the new family member. Interview for adoption.
The day we met Rocky — not the name we would choose*, but the name he was given, and the name we stuck with — my grinchy heart grew three sizes.
And then, goddamnit, the first moment on day two that we opened the door to step outside, bam, like a shot he was off. That dog can run, and run he did. The chase ended when he crossed a busy road — thankfully, with attentive drivers who braked — and eluded us.
Panic. That frantic moment of “what do we do, what do we do?” (You follow on foot, I’ll grab the car).
I spent 12 hours driving around the neighborhood, the neighborhood next to ours, the back roads and thoroughfares, calling his name until hoarse.
We posted signs, with his picture, which we had taken as soon as we got him. Have you seen Rocky?
Finally, late at night, a call. He’d been found, fortunately by a lab rescue worker who happened to live 5 miles away, and who happened to have seen a yellow lab saunter into her yard and just plop down on the grass in exhaustion. Better her than anyone else, because we figured there were two kinds of peopkle in the world: those who would call, and those who would keep.
Rocky had spent the night sleeping in the woods somewhere, a night I spent not sleeping, but consoling my inconsolable children.
And so he returned to us, this big, dumb, adorable, lovable yellow lab. He sits on command. He knows how to shake. he’d been raised in a home that served as a daycare until the owner, too sick to care for him anymore, surrendered him. So he is a marvel with my sons, who find new ways to tickle, poke, pull, and hug on him despite our warnings that one day that dog’s going to take your fool heads off.
And my wife loves that dog. She has a confidant to complain to when, once again, I leave pee on the toilet seat. She has a new friend to take walks with on the days that I spend, late into the evening sometimes, working.
And as for me, the guy who hadn’t even petted a dog at anytime during my adulthood? That dog sits next to me at night, smiling and squinting as I continually and happily scratch his head and pat his back and say over and over again, “Good dog, Rocky. Such a good dog.”
So now I am one of you.
Toast
You’re welcome. :-)
Toast
Oh, and if you haven’t gotten to it yet, this post – Sneaky Hate Spiral – is a classic. It was the first of hers that I ran across, and I almost ruptured an organ laughing.
Randy P
@LarsThorwald:
Nah, not a lab. He’ll put up with it, or walk away if it gets to be too much.
We had a lab from the shelter. She was three years old and lived to be 14. Early on in our ownership for some stupid reason I decided to take her with us to watch fireworks. Sitting on a bit of grass picnicking near the place where they were shooting them. She was in a harness and on a leash, I figured she was fine.
First couple go off, she starts to tremble and panic. I’m holding her by the harness, but somehow she manages to pull completely out of it and I’m holding an empty harness as she goes tearing off IN A STRANGE PLACE at top speed, surrounded by busy roads. She survived that one somehow. My wife tackled her as she came by again, and we got her into the car. It’s now on the list of Things My Wife Will Murder Me For Someday (I assume there’s such a list, though she swears there isn’t. I figure one day I’ll hit the critical number and that will be that.)
Anyway periodically she did get out of the house, especially if there was a squirrel or other dog going by, and we were never able to find her by walking around and calling. But always, ALWAYS, we’d find her patiently waiting back home. Eventually we just learned to wait, and in an hour or so she’d be back.
I think your dog probably got lost since he was new to your house, but as you walk him around the neighborhood he’ll learn his way and be more likely to find his way home if he gets out again.
ktward
@Randy P:
OMG! Your story reminded me of a similar one of my own, probably 15 years ago.
Our lovable pooch–an uber-furry shelter mix of Malamute/Huskie/Shephard–sat with me in our backyard while my hubby set off Indie Day fireworks. The dog was solidly leashed and I had a firm grip because we already knew that, for whatever bizarre reason, he *loved* fireworks. Our kids were around 4 and 7 years of age, and huddled close to me. (They were, uh, less enchanted with fireworks than the dog.)
Off went the bottle rocket. And off went the dog. And me. In trying to catch the flare, he dragged my 125 lb carcass–on my stomach–through the yard and across the street.
I beamed proudly, ‘I never let go!’. Truth is, the damn leash was wound so many times around my hand, I couldn’t let go.
To this day, I have the slightest remnant of road burn on my stomach.
Jay in Oregon
@Yutsano:
Well, if that isn’t damning with faint praise…
Joe
@elmo:
Thanks for your comment. That drawing absolutely tore me apart. I adopted a terrier from a shelter, who was shy but sweet. As she turned about a year old, she developed some fear-based aggression behavior. We worked with her as best as we could for a year, and with 2 veterinary behavior specialists, but in the end it just couldn’t be made into a safe situation. Completely heartwrenching.
Which is not to say it isn’t great and true art.