My Big Dog

Okay like I said, I’m following up with the story of my big dog.  My boyfriend, during one of his manic phases, set his mind to a dog – but, inevitably, not any dog but a bullmastiff.  He wanted a “manly” dog.  I searched, but could not find one within my debt limit – so nearly gave up when one day I received an e-mail for bullmastiff puppies.  A bullmastiff, with papers, for 500 was irrisistable and would offer me relief from the constant “where is my dog” bullshit.  I saw the pictures that the family had taken of an unexpected litter, and looked only to recoup their expenses, so we made the trip to meet the new member of the family.

*See, I didn’t get the dog to eat the cat after all.

When we got there the “puppy” was up to my thigh, and the mommy and daddy dogs looked like the one in the Harry Potter movies, just different colored.  I was really taken aback but, the animal lover in me quickly got over it.  We watched the puppies cavort and I chose one and the boyfriend chose another.  His choice was more beige where mine was more red, and his choice was sporting marks from being the less dominant at play.  However, I was not so attached as he was to his so his was ours just like that.  *By the way, I mention the differences in our choices for those who seek to analyze things – analyze away. 

Looking at the dogs face, and his drooping jowls, I recalled my ex father in law and his face being much the same.  (Although the old dear was all bark and no bite).  So I asked that we name him Ralfh (the spelling is really that way – you know – dare to be different).  When we said that the parents’ owner tells us that is the puppies father’s name so – Ralfh it is.  I watched our puppy, well mentally a puppy, then his father who was the size of a medium horse.  The father, sensing I was watching him decided to walk over and jump up on me.  Now should this dog have done this in the usual clumsy beast way – I would have went flying but he did it with the grace of a ballerina.  Talk about your odd sights.

So the first few months with Ralfh were a challenge.  We learned many things – Ralfh hates walking outside and many a time I had to drag him with his limbs extended over the snow (but he learned); Ralfh loves the taste of leather so much that he ate half my sofa; however, he does not limit himself to sofas but will pepper his diet with such things as DVDs, IDs and entire wallets, anything in or near the garbage can, wood, fabric, hell – just about anything (be he learned better); Ralfh is insecure and hates competition, so much so, that he would devour it if given the chance (he hasn’t learned but we keep him away from temptation; that he costs a MINT to feed and if, God forbid, you don’t buy the “right” foods he will vomit and defecate anywhere he goes (but we learned).

But Ralfh, and we, have learned and thus he will be celebrating his second birthday this month (ironically the day before mine).  He is a gentle, needy, affectionate dog that somehow thinks he’s a cat.  But it’s okay, love him anyway.  And, that’s the story of Ralfh who appears below.

Ralfh Russ

 

Striking a Pose