Any Way, Shape Or Form

I think I have the laziest dog on the planet.  How do I know, you ask?  Well, I’m pretty sure the following criteria qualify him as the most sluggish around:

• His favorite walk is from my bed to the couch.
• He refuses to catch a ball and, instead, lets it bounce off his forehead.
• The above also applies with a frisbee.
• He only goes the minimal distance required in the yard to do his business.
• All the bunnies and squirrels laugh when he is around.
• He is slowly becoming part of the sofa (see previous posts).

Rufus has seriously let himself go.  His lack of movement has caused his waist to expand a bit and I fear his limbs will deteriorate.  I gave him some slack earlier in the year, thinking his laziness was due mostly to the extremely hot weather we had earlier in the summer.  Now that it is cooling off a bit, I expected to see his frisky side come out.  Nope.  He just asked for a blanket to keep him warm in his slumber.  The time had come to force the issue and get him off his behind.

 

“Okay, fine. Let’s get this show on the road. I’m ready to sweat!”

 

I thought it might be fun to try Rufus out as a jogging partner.  I figured since he just sort of shambles anyway, I could go really slow (which is my prefered pace) and enjoy the scenery.  Rufus could get his blood flowing, I could slowly get back into running and we could bond over the experience.  Imagine my surprise, then, when I had my arm almost pulled out of my socket.  It’s not what you think, though.  Rufus did almost dislocate my shoulder, but not because he took off like a rocket.

We started slowly, Rufus trotting beautifully by my side.  “This is great,” I thought.  “Rufus makes an excellent poster boy for jogging with your dog!”

The joke, however, was on me.  Here I was, jogging happily down the road, stupid smile on my face, enjoying the cool brisk evening air, hand in Rufus’ leash, when all of a sudden Rufus decided he didn’t want to run anymore (and run is being generous…he was barely trotting).  Instead of slowing down first like any normal dog (or any other being with any type of motor skill), he just stopped and flopped immediately onto his side, perfectly imitating a beached whale caught on the asphalt.  I, in my jogging enthusiasm, did not realize he had crumpled himself onto the road and I kept going until whiplash and an almost dislocated shoulder from the sudden dog anchor stopped me in my tracks.

“Rufus!  What the heck, buddy?  Come on, let’s go!”

I tugged at the leash.  Dull, glazed over eyes stared out at me from Rufus’ skull.  Dear God!  Had I killed my dog?  Did he have a heart attack?  I bent down and checked him out.  He proceeded to roll on his back and solicit belly rubs.   Big faker.  I prodded him with my foot.

“Get up.  Let’s go, doofus.”

He rolled back onto his side and just laid there.  I tugged again at the leash.  Nothing.  I started to drag him, thinking he would get up and start walking.  Nope.  I dragged him two feet with his harness before I gave up.  He still wouldn’t budge.  Since we were only fifty feet from the house at this point, I thought I would call his bluff and just leave him.  I turned around and jogged towards home.  This finally got him to sit up and acknowledge me, but he wasn’t moving anywhere.

“Come on, Rufus.  Come here!  Ok, fine.  I promise I won’t make you run anymore.”  He still looked doubtful.  Time for the ultimate bribe.

“Rufus!  Come here!”  Blank dog stare.

“If you come now, I’ll let you snooze the rest of the evening away on the couch…and I’ll throw in some peanut butter!”

**Boing!!**  That dog actually galloped back home and beat me to the front door.  As soon as I let him in, he jumped on the couch.  Even though Grimm was in his favorite spot, he didn’t care.  He just climbed on top of Grimm and commenced his snooze fest.

“I never want to leave the couch ever again…or you, Grimm.”

 

Obviously Rufus will have to stick to sleeping and wrestling as his sports of choice.  I guess he really isn’t built to be a runner.  He has more of a couch potato weightlifter physique.  Really, though, is being lazy all that bad?  If sleeping on soft surfaces makes him happier than frantically chasing frisbees, that’s fine.  Grimm and Zella are more than happy to be my running buddies.  Rufus can come if he wants and we’ll slow our pace to make him happy when the time comes.  I will enjoy the dog he is rather than try to turn him into something he isn’t.  I’ll take him any way, shape or form, even when he’s out of shape and his form looks more like a sofa pillow and less like a dog.  As long as he’s happy, I’m happy.  At least I know I’ll have company when I, too, want to be a couch potato.

 

“Okay, no more pictures…and no more running!  Take off these sweatbands!”

 

“You gotta know when to be lazy. Done correctly, it’s an art form that benefits everyone.” 
― Nicholas Sparks, The Choice

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Birthday Wishes

One year ago today (or thereabouts), a warthog and a dog became proud parents.  You know, now that I think about it, maybe it was actually a hippo…or possibly a rhinoceros…an ogre?…and a dog.  Either way, some type of forbidden union produced Rufus.  Only the most powerful love could have made such a canine.

Who’s his daddy (or momma), you ask? I have no freaking clue.  Surely one of these combinations is the correct recipe for a Rufus.  **Note:  If you are one of the creatures pictured above, please do not infer from this posting that Rufus is asking for any proof of parentage.  Your secret is, and always will be, safe.  However, if you feel the need to come forward to claim your offspring, you are too late.

I have no information on his beginnings.  Did he have other siblings?  Are there other Rufi (that’s the plural form of Rufus) out there?  Possibly.  If you follow this blog, you know that Rufus was a rescue so I only know his history from the time he was about four months old.  Today may not even really be his true birthday, but based on his comparative age when I obtained him, it is a very close approximation. Why September 1st, you ask?  Well, it just so happens that today is also Grimm’s birthday and, even though Grimm is a rescue too, I do know that this is the day he was actually born.  Apparently, I wanted two Virgo canines in the house because one just wasn’t enough.  The Virgo dog horoscope states:

The Virgo Dog is a genuine domestic creature, more resigned than any other Sign of the Zodiac to play the role of pet. In fact, he or she will feel totally comfortable in this position and accept it without a single murmur. This canine will be in his or her element as a friend and companion living with humans, and will strive to be the perfect pet. The Virgo Dog considers being told what to do as a pleasure…it also saves him or her the trouble of having to think up something. There will be no unpleasant surprises for an owner who returns home to the Virgo Dog since this canine is the cleanest and most hygienic of the Zodiac.

This sounds great!  Who doesn’t want the perfect pet?  Rufus had to be a Virgo for sure!  Plus, since Rufus loves Grimm so very much, Rufus wanted to share his birth date with his older brother, too.  I thought, they share everything else, why not save my brain from having to remember another date and let them party it up together?  The woofers thought it was a good idea, I thought it was a good idea and my maid thought it was a good idea because she would only have to clean up the post-party shambles once instead of twice.   Just kidding.  There are no post party shambles (yet) plus I don’t have a maid.  [Dear Santa, please bring me a maid this Christmas, okay?  Thanks.]  I should have read the horoscope further before assigning Rufus the same date of birth.  I never read this part until today:

The Virgo puppy will be easy to handle in the beginning, but as he or she gets older, trouble is bound to start. This canine is determined that his or her life be filled with beauty and nothing but the best will suffice…the most comfortable chair, the most delicious of food, the most luxurious of surroundings. The Virgo Dog will never be found sleeping on a hard floor and is sensitive to discomfort in much the same way as the fairytale Princess was to the irritating pea. The Virgo Dog tends to spend a great deal of time in the garden, communing with nature as he or she weeds, digs and generally makes a mess.  The Virgo Dog is never happier than when he or she is doing something for the owner. This canine will take over some of the many chores which pile up during the day…bringing in the laundry, counting the socks, clearing the table, for example. However, this truly helpful dog does not always get it right.

My couch and yard were pretty much doomed from the beginning.  I knew there was a reason Grimm and Rufus were so vain!  Having to look pretty and be comfortable was destined by the stars, not to mention their exuberance in performing yard work (and by yard work, I mean tree destruction).  So, to my two puppy boys:  Happy Birthday!  Here’s a picture to demonstrate exactly how far they have come: Whoa!  Rufus blew up a bit, didn’t he?  Grimm just looks like a bigger version of his puppy self, only he grew into his ears.  Rufus, however, looks like he’s been hitting the ‘roids.  He hasn’t, just so you know.  Those are the hippo…or rhino…or warthog…or ogre genes coming out.  He will probably fill out even more over the next year.  Does the Incredible Hulk need a canine sidekick?  Rufus is available for hero work two nights a week. Grimm has pretty much done all the growing he’s going to do, unless you count getting a fatter belly “growing”.  [If that’s the case, well, I’ve been steadily growing for a while now, too.]  He still acts like a puppy, though, so I’m still waiting for him to mentally mature.  With Rufus only a year younger than him, I’m afraid I’m going to have a couple of wild boys for a while yet. For their birthday, they got to do all their favorite doggy things:  chase a bunny, watch the squirrels outside, eat awesome grub and catch some zzz’s on the couch.  Rufus really wanted a kitty for his birthday, but I told him no.  Grimm just wanted a pair of flip flops to eat.  I told him no, too.  Instead, they got fluffy squeaky toys in the shape of veggies to play with and a special dinner treat of canned tripe mixed with tuna juice added to their normal kibble.  Stinky like you would not believe, but they adored it (Zella got some, too).  I told Rufus he needed to make a birthday wish but that he couldn’t tell me what it was, else it wouldn’t come true.  However, I think I figured out his wish because it appears to have come to fruition:  to really and truly become part of the couch.  See?  Sometimes birthday wishes do come true and sometimes (okay, most times) a homely pup grows up to become a good friend…and part of your sofa.

Rufus’ transformation into Rufa is complete! Birthday dreams do come true!

“You were born, and with you endless possibilities―very few ever to be realized.  It’s okay.  Life was never about what you could do, but what you would do. ” 

—Richelle E. Goodrich

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