A Visit to a Kennel
I responded to an ad in the newspaper for German Shepherd puppies a couple of weeks ago. I sure miss my girl. She’s not under my desk pulling my socks off. I haven’t played bally in a long time now. There’s nobody in her bed and no one pulling my covers off me every morning. I really am missing that a lot.
I am not ready for a puppy; however, I still could envision myself sometimes, holding a puppy in my lap at night. So why can't I be a tire kicker for once in my life and just "window shop?" So we're off to visit yet another German Shepherd kennel; we think.
During the entire trip, I kept asking the Hus, "Do you think that maybe there could be a little girl there for me this time?" Huh? Maybe, huh? Do you think there is one there that will look like Tracey? Whatchathink, huh? And I'd get that well known "look†that means for me to shut it, because I’ve become annoying. So after about 50 miles of stupid questions like that, he finally spoke up and gave me the lecture on how dumb it is that we are wasting our time looking at puppies again, and this was the last time we were going puppy browsing. In my best French accent, I had to agree, "Wee wee monsieur". He hates my French accent.
So, 45 minutes into the trip on the interstate, there goes my truck trying to over heat. Joy. Needles going crazy. Hot! Hot! Hot! We pulled over at the next gas station for truck to get an examination and then, here comes another "look". "Don't you ever put oil in this thing"? And I'm like "No, that's not my yob, ma'n".......He really hates my Jamaican accent, but I think it's cute. He was not amused. And then came "Look at this, we need water too," followed by yet another “look.†:new_argue:
Ok so we get water and oil and off we go. So now, I am reading the ad from the paper that I brought with me over and over again. The same 20 words, until I got that look that meant to quit reading the ad over and over. Fine! I'll turn on the radio and sing to oldies. Ever sing along wrong? That's a lot of fun actually, when you get so old and decrepit that you fumble through some of the words that you used to sing perfectly as a kid: "and we'll have fun fun fun till daddy puts my tea bags awayyyyyyay."
Now here comes the big question from the boss: "Which exit?" I respond that I dunno. I though you knew? How would I know? Cause you're the driver, and it is your job to know. Apparently, I left the directions on the table at home, gonna whoop me? I get another lecture about how I don’t focus on important things very well. No problem, Hus, we can just call. Hus has a cell phone because he’s rich. Well, oppsie, he left it at home. How come that I get a lecture for leaving the directions at home, and he doesn't get a lecture for leaving his cell phone at home? Ok, never mind, we'll stop and call for directions. How come there aren't any phone booths anymore? Cause the whole world has cell phones that’s why.
:
Aukkkkk. After about 15 minutes, we find a phone booth and between the two of us, we have enough change to make the call. I put the money in, and somebody down there swallowed it. “Hey Hus, gimmee more money. I have to try this againâ€. I'm digging through my purse and I'm scavenging coins on the truck floor. I put them in the slot, and somebody dun swallered them up too. Back to digging all over the truck for more change. I’ve got money everywhere in that truck; in the console, the ashtray, in the side pockets. I’m rich too. Hey, it’s a gold mine under these seats. Three dollars and some cents later, I place my local call and get directions. Seems we missed the exit long ago and we had to backtrack and change interstates. No problem. I announced in my French accent that "Hey Hus, that was your faux pas, not mine. :lol:
Finally, we make it to the people's house. I was directed to the carport by the owners and told to sit, stay. Off the carport was the very large back yard where I could see there were at least 15 full-grown dogs, each in separate chain link pens on dirt ground. They each had a shelter; some had homemade doghouses and others had igloos. Some had just a sheet of plywood for a roof. Not a fancy set up, but acceptable, I guess. It was clean, didn't seem to stink or anything. I told them I would like to see the parents first. They don't want me to. I wondered why. Then I found out why. Cause they want to eat me. The dogs, not the people. ( I don’t think they were cannibals; they were Southern.)
The dogs seemed to be fat and healthy from what I could see from a distance, barking like crazy and snarling, growling, posturing, fangs showing. I sure didn't like the way they were all jumping and bolting and body slamming at their fences. They were only 4 feet high. A piece of cake for a GSD to jump right over the top effortlessly if they wanted to devour a human. And they wanted to devour me. I know, because I look rather beefy. I was worried. Maybe if I stayed on the Atkins diet I wouldn’t have looked so delectable. But there I was, sitting like beef on the barbie.
The longer I waited for the owner to return with the puppies, the more I became a nervous wreck, knowing any of them could jump out and nail me in a second. These dogs were getting more and more intense, making a racket, because of my presence in the carport. Here I am a few feet from a yard full of pi**edd off dogs that could get loose at any second and clean my clock. And before I could say "Holy inadequate fencing Batman", a dog had jumped over their fence and headed in my direction. This is one of those times that you wonder if you should start wearing Depends when you go on a day trip.
I had strict instructions not to move and to stay quiet in the carport behind the carport fence. Ya think? Not a problem. I won’t utter a word. Promise and gaurenteed. Matter of fact, I'll go stay in the truck if they want. Doors locked too! Or better yet, I’ll go home! I'm probably wet! I whisper to the Hus, this is NO good. I want to leave. I can tell by the pitch of their bark, these dogs mean business. At any moment, I was going to become Swiss cheese. Now the woman is chasing this dog around the yard and finally returns him back into the pen. Oh, golly gee, that's a relief. He’s only going to get right back out again. Now I'm humming the Beach Boys chorus to Sloop John B...â€I want to go home, please let me go hooooo oooo ommme......., this is the worst trip, I've ever been on....."
:
I've walked into several kennels before and had dogs barking and jumping, but never saw fangs and heard snarling threats coming from dogs, like these people had. It was overwhelming. Now, if this was the Dog Whisper's joint, and he was there inviting me to meet his pack, I would not have worried for a moment. But no such luck. Cesar Millan, where are you ??? :lol:
How am I going to see the parents I wondered? I need to see the parents. If I like the parent's, I like the puppies. If I don't like the parent's I don't like the puppies. Simple. However, there is no way for me to see the parents. I can't get close enough to them for a decent glimpse. I give up. I’m outta here. I thank the man anyhow for their time and head back to the truck.
The woman hollered at us to wait, that she was still trying to gather the puppies. Her son began to explain that they were new breeders, building a better facility, and getting higher fences. Wonderful. I hope so. But they are too low today. I'm gone. I walk off back down the driveway towards the truck.
:
She opens the gate and here came eight little fatty puppies running towards us. Oh dear. Now I’m dead. I’m way too vulnerable for this. They really put on a show for us too. Running, playing, wrestling. Having a wonderful time. So unlike their relatives in there, Dogzillas. I wanted to pick up every single one of those puppies and had a hard time containing myself. The man brought his notebook of pictures, shot records, pedigree paperwork all in order and was giving us a lot of information about the breed that I know was incorrect, but I let him yak on. You could hardly hear a word he was saying because of the barking, growling, and snarling in the background. Hus could care less about the paper work. He was too busy watching those little babies play and romp and roll. "Want one?" He asked, and I quickly said no thank you. He wrinkles up that face, gives me that darn look, and tries again in a louder voice, "want to pick one out?" Again, I said no, I don't think so. Then here came the sales pitch from the owners, but I still wasn't interested. They asked me why not, and I told them I had to see the parents to pick out a puppy, but apparently, that wasn't possible. They said they were sorry, but that wouldn't be a good idea. NO KIDDING! But they didn't understand why I wanted to see them. UGH!
I thanked them for their time. We got in the truck and left and I had that well known lecture all the way home that I am just impossible! Followed by, “we are finished looking at puppies foreverâ€. Followed by, “…..and if you think for one minute that I am running you all over the state of Tennesee in this truck to look at puppies all year long……….yadda yadda, yaddaâ€â€¦â€¦. In my best New Jersey accent I asked " are ya suuure?" And he was sure. And I didn't care.
On the way home, passing through Chattanooga, I asked the Hus to pull over at Petco where the Pet’s go, because we were out of dog biscuits for Devin. I didn't expect to see that the Humane Society had brought half their dogs with them. It was adoption day. They had free hot dogs, cokes out front, and pens full of dogs all over the place. I walked right by refusing to look. But I peeked. "Peeks" are not "looks," they are peeks. These dogs looked so good. Clean and groomed and healthy. I was so glad to see so many dogs getting homes that day. And here comes the Hus....."Want one of these?" No thanks, just dog biscuits. Well, for some reason, I made a few other purchases. I came out with a puppy collar, leash, dog bowl, and assorted puppy toys. Hus asked me what in the heck am I buying those for? I told him, that I have no idea. I would put them in my hope chest for "someday." When the time is right, I'll be ready, but the time is clearly not now. He shakes his head and announces that he’ll never understand me.
:
The next day the woman called and said she reduced her puppy prices to half. I told her again, no thank you, because I didn't want to buy a puppy unless I could see at least one parent. She asked me to explain, so I just told her that it would give me a clue of how the puppy would turn out when fully grown. She said that was the most ridiculous statement she ever heard. I apologized for taking up her time, and she said that I should be. I’m so ashamed; I think. :new_shocked: She wasn't happy with me one bit. Oh heck, nobody's happy with me. Especially Devin. I forgot his dog biscuits!
The next road trip is planned for April 14. :new_tomato:
Do not ask me where or why. You’ll just have to stay tuned! :cheeky-smiley-006:
I responded to an ad in the newspaper for German Shepherd puppies a couple of weeks ago. I sure miss my girl. She’s not under my desk pulling my socks off. I haven’t played bally in a long time now. There’s nobody in her bed and no one pulling my covers off me every morning. I really am missing that a lot.
I am not ready for a puppy; however, I still could envision myself sometimes, holding a puppy in my lap at night. So why can't I be a tire kicker for once in my life and just "window shop?" So we're off to visit yet another German Shepherd kennel; we think.
During the entire trip, I kept asking the Hus, "Do you think that maybe there could be a little girl there for me this time?" Huh? Maybe, huh? Do you think there is one there that will look like Tracey? Whatchathink, huh? And I'd get that well known "look†that means for me to shut it, because I’ve become annoying. So after about 50 miles of stupid questions like that, he finally spoke up and gave me the lecture on how dumb it is that we are wasting our time looking at puppies again, and this was the last time we were going puppy browsing. In my best French accent, I had to agree, "Wee wee monsieur". He hates my French accent.
So, 45 minutes into the trip on the interstate, there goes my truck trying to over heat. Joy. Needles going crazy. Hot! Hot! Hot! We pulled over at the next gas station for truck to get an examination and then, here comes another "look". "Don't you ever put oil in this thing"? And I'm like "No, that's not my yob, ma'n".......He really hates my Jamaican accent, but I think it's cute. He was not amused. And then came "Look at this, we need water too," followed by yet another “look.†:new_argue:
Ok so we get water and oil and off we go. So now, I am reading the ad from the paper that I brought with me over and over again. The same 20 words, until I got that look that meant to quit reading the ad over and over. Fine! I'll turn on the radio and sing to oldies. Ever sing along wrong? That's a lot of fun actually, when you get so old and decrepit that you fumble through some of the words that you used to sing perfectly as a kid: "and we'll have fun fun fun till daddy puts my tea bags awayyyyyyay."
Now here comes the big question from the boss: "Which exit?" I respond that I dunno. I though you knew? How would I know? Cause you're the driver, and it is your job to know. Apparently, I left the directions on the table at home, gonna whoop me? I get another lecture about how I don’t focus on important things very well. No problem, Hus, we can just call. Hus has a cell phone because he’s rich. Well, oppsie, he left it at home. How come that I get a lecture for leaving the directions at home, and he doesn't get a lecture for leaving his cell phone at home? Ok, never mind, we'll stop and call for directions. How come there aren't any phone booths anymore? Cause the whole world has cell phones that’s why.
Aukkkkk. After about 15 minutes, we find a phone booth and between the two of us, we have enough change to make the call. I put the money in, and somebody down there swallowed it. “Hey Hus, gimmee more money. I have to try this againâ€. I'm digging through my purse and I'm scavenging coins on the truck floor. I put them in the slot, and somebody dun swallered them up too. Back to digging all over the truck for more change. I’ve got money everywhere in that truck; in the console, the ashtray, in the side pockets. I’m rich too. Hey, it’s a gold mine under these seats. Three dollars and some cents later, I place my local call and get directions. Seems we missed the exit long ago and we had to backtrack and change interstates. No problem. I announced in my French accent that "Hey Hus, that was your faux pas, not mine. :lol:
Finally, we make it to the people's house. I was directed to the carport by the owners and told to sit, stay. Off the carport was the very large back yard where I could see there were at least 15 full-grown dogs, each in separate chain link pens on dirt ground. They each had a shelter; some had homemade doghouses and others had igloos. Some had just a sheet of plywood for a roof. Not a fancy set up, but acceptable, I guess. It was clean, didn't seem to stink or anything. I told them I would like to see the parents first. They don't want me to. I wondered why. Then I found out why. Cause they want to eat me. The dogs, not the people. ( I don’t think they were cannibals; they were Southern.)
The dogs seemed to be fat and healthy from what I could see from a distance, barking like crazy and snarling, growling, posturing, fangs showing. I sure didn't like the way they were all jumping and bolting and body slamming at their fences. They were only 4 feet high. A piece of cake for a GSD to jump right over the top effortlessly if they wanted to devour a human. And they wanted to devour me. I know, because I look rather beefy. I was worried. Maybe if I stayed on the Atkins diet I wouldn’t have looked so delectable. But there I was, sitting like beef on the barbie.
The longer I waited for the owner to return with the puppies, the more I became a nervous wreck, knowing any of them could jump out and nail me in a second. These dogs were getting more and more intense, making a racket, because of my presence in the carport. Here I am a few feet from a yard full of pi**edd off dogs that could get loose at any second and clean my clock. And before I could say "Holy inadequate fencing Batman", a dog had jumped over their fence and headed in my direction. This is one of those times that you wonder if you should start wearing Depends when you go on a day trip.
I had strict instructions not to move and to stay quiet in the carport behind the carport fence. Ya think? Not a problem. I won’t utter a word. Promise and gaurenteed. Matter of fact, I'll go stay in the truck if they want. Doors locked too! Or better yet, I’ll go home! I'm probably wet! I whisper to the Hus, this is NO good. I want to leave. I can tell by the pitch of their bark, these dogs mean business. At any moment, I was going to become Swiss cheese. Now the woman is chasing this dog around the yard and finally returns him back into the pen. Oh, golly gee, that's a relief. He’s only going to get right back out again. Now I'm humming the Beach Boys chorus to Sloop John B...â€I want to go home, please let me go hooooo oooo ommme......., this is the worst trip, I've ever been on....."
I've walked into several kennels before and had dogs barking and jumping, but never saw fangs and heard snarling threats coming from dogs, like these people had. It was overwhelming. Now, if this was the Dog Whisper's joint, and he was there inviting me to meet his pack, I would not have worried for a moment. But no such luck. Cesar Millan, where are you ??? :lol:
How am I going to see the parents I wondered? I need to see the parents. If I like the parent's, I like the puppies. If I don't like the parent's I don't like the puppies. Simple. However, there is no way for me to see the parents. I can't get close enough to them for a decent glimpse. I give up. I’m outta here. I thank the man anyhow for their time and head back to the truck.
The woman hollered at us to wait, that she was still trying to gather the puppies. Her son began to explain that they were new breeders, building a better facility, and getting higher fences. Wonderful. I hope so. But they are too low today. I'm gone. I walk off back down the driveway towards the truck.
She opens the gate and here came eight little fatty puppies running towards us. Oh dear. Now I’m dead. I’m way too vulnerable for this. They really put on a show for us too. Running, playing, wrestling. Having a wonderful time. So unlike their relatives in there, Dogzillas. I wanted to pick up every single one of those puppies and had a hard time containing myself. The man brought his notebook of pictures, shot records, pedigree paperwork all in order and was giving us a lot of information about the breed that I know was incorrect, but I let him yak on. You could hardly hear a word he was saying because of the barking, growling, and snarling in the background. Hus could care less about the paper work. He was too busy watching those little babies play and romp and roll. "Want one?" He asked, and I quickly said no thank you. He wrinkles up that face, gives me that darn look, and tries again in a louder voice, "want to pick one out?" Again, I said no, I don't think so. Then here came the sales pitch from the owners, but I still wasn't interested. They asked me why not, and I told them I had to see the parents to pick out a puppy, but apparently, that wasn't possible. They said they were sorry, but that wouldn't be a good idea. NO KIDDING! But they didn't understand why I wanted to see them. UGH!
I thanked them for their time. We got in the truck and left and I had that well known lecture all the way home that I am just impossible! Followed by, “we are finished looking at puppies foreverâ€. Followed by, “…..and if you think for one minute that I am running you all over the state of Tennesee in this truck to look at puppies all year long……….yadda yadda, yaddaâ€â€¦â€¦. In my best New Jersey accent I asked " are ya suuure?" And he was sure. And I didn't care.
On the way home, passing through Chattanooga, I asked the Hus to pull over at Petco where the Pet’s go, because we were out of dog biscuits for Devin. I didn't expect to see that the Humane Society had brought half their dogs with them. It was adoption day. They had free hot dogs, cokes out front, and pens full of dogs all over the place. I walked right by refusing to look. But I peeked. "Peeks" are not "looks," they are peeks. These dogs looked so good. Clean and groomed and healthy. I was so glad to see so many dogs getting homes that day. And here comes the Hus....."Want one of these?" No thanks, just dog biscuits. Well, for some reason, I made a few other purchases. I came out with a puppy collar, leash, dog bowl, and assorted puppy toys. Hus asked me what in the heck am I buying those for? I told him, that I have no idea. I would put them in my hope chest for "someday." When the time is right, I'll be ready, but the time is clearly not now. He shakes his head and announces that he’ll never understand me.
The next day the woman called and said she reduced her puppy prices to half. I told her again, no thank you, because I didn't want to buy a puppy unless I could see at least one parent. She asked me to explain, so I just told her that it would give me a clue of how the puppy would turn out when fully grown. She said that was the most ridiculous statement she ever heard. I apologized for taking up her time, and she said that I should be. I’m so ashamed; I think. :new_shocked: She wasn't happy with me one bit. Oh heck, nobody's happy with me. Especially Devin. I forgot his dog biscuits!
The next road trip is planned for April 14. :new_tomato:
Do not ask me where or why. You’ll just have to stay tuned! :cheeky-smiley-006:
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