The Bob Page
|
Bob
kills a squirrel!! Click here for pictures! |
|
One
year later...Bob
kills another squirrel!! Click here for pictures! |
(Click the pictures to enlarge)
Born July 2001
In
the summer of 2001, I was seriously contemplating getting
a dog. I didn't go in search of the perfect guard dog or hunting dog, I
simply wanted a dog as a companion. I grew up around dogs and have always
loved dogs, except for those gay French Poodles and those fucking "yip-yip-yip"
dogs. I never really liked cats, especially since I allergic to most of
them. Frankly, I wouldn't feel too bad if the NFL used them for field goal
attempts. If I don't start tearing up and sneezing within 10 minutes of
being around a cat, it's a good day. I didn't want to go to a
pet store
and lend my support to the puppy mill industry that will supply them with an endless stream of pets, but at the same time I didn't see much need in going to
a professional AKC breeder and paying $500 for a pure bloodline breed.
Deciding to do the kind thing, I decided to go to a local adoption shelter.
I'm not going to mention their name, because I am displeased with their service,
but suffice to say, I've heard generally positive things about them. So, I
decided
to check it out. I roamed through the numerous fenced in kennels
and saw a number of dogs that have been there over 6 months. There were
only a couple that caught my eye and would have interested me. After a
quick second look I decided to check out a 9 month old Black Lab. He was a
bit active, but what can you expect after being in a 5x5 kennel most of the day?
I decided I would like to take him home with me, so I proceeded to fill out the
paperwork. Up until that point that's when things started to get silly.
On the sheet, I marked that I would have him outdoors as well as indoors.
This obviously put a run in her hose, because she went off on a
rant about how
dogs left outdoors become more wild and unmanageable, they are more prone to
diseases, they'll get bored and try to escape...bla bla bla. I explained
my weird work schedule, and I didn't really want to leave him in the house 14
hours by himself with no opportunity to go outside to relieve himself.
That only agitated her further, "Maybe this isn't the time for you to get a
pet", but she said that if I was to have the dog outside, they'd have to send a
representative from
the Humane Society over to inspect my yard. Whatever.
A day or so later, I get a call on my machine from someone from the Humane
Society. I called his cell phone and left a message to call me at home or
my cell phone. A couple days go by, no call. I call him back to let
him know I'm still interested. A couple days later, still no call.
Once again, I call him and leave a message, and he finally calls back. He
tells me as long as he can access the yard I don't have to be there.
Sounds reasonable, plus he said he'd try to stop by that night while I'm at
work. The next day or so, I get a call from the adoption shelter saying
that my application to adopt has been denied. Just so I can full my sick
need to know why, I ask them. According to the guy from the Humane
Society, I had piles
of sticks in the yard. Well Mr. Dumb Ass, how do you
think those piles occurred? I suppose the neighborhood beavers are going
to be building a dam in the backyard. No, I was the one who created those
naughty little piles so that they could be taken by Mr. Trash Company.
Another brilliant reason they gave was that there were trees and bushes next to
the house. Damn, that's just awful. Another strike against me was
that the tops of my chain link fence protruded out instead of being flattened.
They had some other real winner excuses, but the only one that I actually agreed
with was one of the gates couldn't be secured due to one of the fence posts
being angled inward. Not a big deal, I just had to dig around it and
reposition it. They said that I'd still need to take care of these other
discrepancies before I could be considered as an applicant. Well, to put
it rather bluntly....FUCK THEM! If they want to place unwanted pets in
caring and responsible homes, they may want to reevaluate their policies.
A month or so later, I'm hanging out with
my friend Brian, who out of the clear blue asked "Dude, would you like a puppy?"
It seems that a local stray infiltrated their fortified compound of a yard, and
had a little "Love Gravy" with one of their dogs,
Shadow. We went over to
his place to take a look at the pups. They look like Black Labs with some
Chow in them. I had him set aside one of the black males
for me. They were only 4 weeks old at the time, so he was going to keep
them with their mom a couple more weeks. A couple weeks came and went, and
they brought over my new buddy. After much thought and deep meditation, I
decided on the perfect name for him...."Bob".
The first couple weeks was "fun" due to getting him
housebroken, when suddenly one night he stopped chewing on his toy and walked
over to the door leading to the garage. This is how we went outside to the
backyard, and this is the routine that he's been used to. I opened the
backdoor and he ran out into the yard and did his business. What a relief! 
There's only been a couple minor accidents in the house since that time, but
that was quickly remedied. Now the only trouble I have is getting him to
go completely OFF the back porch. For whatever reason, he'll start to piss
on the porch...until I chase him into the yard to finish up. Sometimes I
think I may have even housebroken him a little too good, because he'll
occasionally go outside, come back in, and five minutes later he's sitting in
front of the door wanting to go back out. I'll take him outside again, and
he'll try with all
his might to squeeze something out....in hopes that he'll get
a nice doggy treat. For a couple months I would take him to work and put
him on the patio outside the cafeteria. That way I could check up on him
every couple hours and let him go to the bathroom, plus I could take him for a
walk around the lake. He was also just little enough tha
t if I left him in
the backyard at night, he could squeeze under the gate and run off. Once
he was big enough, and because of this short time span between bathroom
sessions, I decided to leave him in the backyard while I went to work.
Things were going well until one night before leaving for work he wasn't in the
backyard. More accurately, he wasn't in MY backyard. Along the back
fence where four yards came together, there was a space between fence posts that
he just casually walked through to the neighbor's yard behind me. When I
got him back in September, there was foliage covering up this little escape
route, but since
everything's dead now I easily saw it....and proceeded to block it off with a
construction block and some twigs. Problem solved. But
wintertime was fast approaching, and I wasn't going to leave the poor little guy
in the 20 degree weather, so I had to take a chance and put him in the back
bedroom and put a gate on the door. On my lunch break, I would drive home
around midnight and let him out to go to the bathroom. He had been inside
for about six hours, but he didn't go to the bathroom inside. I was quite
pleased. I did this little routine a few more ti
mes
until one night, I couldn't make it home until morning. Fourteen hours
later when I arrived, I fully anticipated some early Christmas presents on the
floor or a nice big lake. Neither was the case, but when I popped the
gate, he made a mad dash to the back door and flew into the yard where he
proceeded to release the floodgates. So, until Springtime rolls around,
that's my intended plan of attack. I just make sure that he's "empty"
before I leave for work.
He's starting to learn to rules of the house, and is good
with others. He knows basic commands like come, sit, lay down, shake, and
he even goes to his crate when I tell him. He enjoys chasing (and bringing
back) his toys when I throw them across the yard, or playing tug on his rope
when I'm in the mood. He's not fond of getting his
nails clipped, but
I'm sure it's much more preferable than going to the vet and
letting them do the thermometer trick, or worse yet...getting his balls whacked
off, which took place mid-January 2002. I dropped him off in the morning,
and picked him up later that evening. He was still all drugged up and
could barely walk, let alone climb up the two steps from the garage to the
kitchen. He just kind of wobbled back to his room and laid down.
After a resting a few hours he slowly walked out, but spent the rest of the
night whimpering. Poor little guy. For the nex
t week, I kept him in
the house, since he has a tendency to run and jump around when I let him in the
backyard. The last thing you want to have happen is your pet's stitches to
break before the area's healed. Now the stitches are
off, and he's back to his normal rambunctious behavior. I'm
hardly what you would consider an Animal Rights person, but I do wish that more
people would get their pets spayed or neutered. Bob was a product of this,
but I don't intend to perpetuate the cycle of extra puppies that will either die
or be euthanized.
Now that you've seen him, tell Bob how cute he is.
Email him
to
Main
In
the summer of 2001, I was seriously contemplating getting
a dog. I didn't go in search of the perfect guard dog or hunting dog, I
simply wanted a dog as a companion. I grew up around dogs and have always
loved dogs, except for those gay French Poodles and those fucking "yip-yip-yip"
dogs. I never really liked cats, especially since I allergic to most of
them. Frankly, I wouldn't feel too bad if the NFL used them for field goal
attempts. If I don't start tearing up and sneezing within 10 minutes of
being around a cat, it's a good day. I didn't want to go to a
pet store
and lend my support to the puppy mill industry that will supply them with an endless stream of pets, but at the same time I didn't see much need in going to
a professional AKC breeder and paying $500 for a pure bloodline breed.
Deciding to do the kind thing, I decided to go to a local adoption shelter.
I'm not going to mention their name, because I am displeased with their service,
but suffice to say, I've heard generally positive things about them. So, I
decided
to check it out. I roamed through the numerous fenced in kennels
and saw a number of dogs that have been there over 6 months. There were
only a couple that caught my eye and would have interested me. After a
quick second look I decided to check out a 9 month old Black Lab. He was a
bit active, but what can you expect after being in a 5x5 kennel most of the day?
I decided I would like to take him home with me, so I proceeded to fill out the
paperwork. Up until that point that's when things started to get silly.
On the sheet, I marked that I would have him outdoors as well as indoors.
This obviously put a run in her hose, because she went off on a
rant about how
dogs left outdoors become more wild and unmanageable, they are more prone to
diseases, they'll get bored and try to escape...bla bla bla. I explained
my weird work schedule, and I didn't really want to leave him in the house 14
hours by himself with no opportunity to go outside to relieve himself.
That only agitated her further, "Maybe this isn't the time for you to get a
pet", but she said that if I was to have the dog outside, they'd have to send a
representative from
the Humane Society over to inspect my yard. Whatever.
A day or so later, I get a call on my machine from someone from the Humane
Society. I called his cell phone and left a message to call me at home or
my cell phone. A couple days go by, no call. I call him back to let
him know I'm still interested. A couple days later, still no call.
Once again, I call him and leave a message, and he finally calls back. He
tells me as long as he can access the yard I don't have to be there.
Sounds reasonable, plus he said he'd try to stop by that night while I'm at
work. The next day or so, I get a call from the adoption shelter saying
that my application to adopt has been denied. Just so I can full my sick
need to know why, I ask them. According to the guy from the Humane
Society, I had piles
of sticks in the yard. Well Mr. Dumb Ass, how do you
think those piles occurred? I suppose the neighborhood beavers are going
to be building a dam in the backyard. No, I was the one who created those
naughty little piles so that they could be taken by Mr. Trash Company.
Another brilliant reason they gave was that there were trees and bushes next to
the house. Damn, that's just awful. Another strike against me was
that the tops of my chain link fence protruded out instead of being flattened.
They had some other real winner excuses, but the only one that I actually agreed
with was one of the gates couldn't be secured due to one of the fence posts
being angled inward. Not a big deal, I just had to dig around it and
reposition it. They said that I'd still need to take care of these other
discrepancies before I could be considered as an applicant. Well, to put
it rather bluntly....FUCK THEM! If they want to place unwanted pets in
caring and responsible homes, they may want to reevaluate their policies.
