Today’s blog entry is rather bitter, just to warn you. If you read my posts from The LOVErador section in the top menu of this page you will know that my history with women has not been great so far. In few days I turn 2 years old and that means I am a proper teenager now and I need to reflect on my life so far. Especially on the fact that I am still a virgin:(
You know how , when you’re a frustrated teenager, it all shows on your complexion and stuff? That’s what’s happening to me right now. I have spots around my private area that apparently are typical for a teenage dog; I believe acne is the term that the vet used. My parents spent almost 30 quid on a special shampoo to deal with it (sort of like a dog Clearasil) I’m pretty sure I saw tears in their eyes when we left the vets!
I’ve had enough. Why am I still a virgin? My mum has been advertising my stud services for almost 6 months and nothing! I’m sure no other mother ever worked so hard to get her son laid. There were few dates arranged but they all cancelled last minute due to the bitch’s end of season or such rubbish I didn’t get.. Am I really that repulsive that no girl wants me?
Guess what – they all say they want a proven father. Catch 22 right? How can you be a proven baby daddy if no one wants to date you and let you put the bun in their oven? I’m told I’ve got great genes and scores and I’m generally perfect and it doesn’t seem to work anyway. It’s like when you’re looking for your first job and all the employers want experience.
I am really getting desperate. Take a look for yourselves:
Here’s me creeping up in the park, looking for some potential victims of my perverse fantasies.
And this is me hitting on a dog of a bigger size and unknown (!!!) gender.
And finally, here is me trying to hump a girl while her friends and her father are watching!
Definitely not my proudest moments, I know. So now you see I really do need a woman asap. What can I do?
Do you remember my neighbour Lola, the brown labrador goddess that just wanted to be friends? Well, she’s converted nicely – she loves me now!! I’m so happy!
Excuse the dirty picture of us, but I had to prove it, cause I still don’t believe it myself!
I don’t know how that happened to be honest with you. Must be my raw dog magnetism. On our first two dates she showed literally no interest, even pretended I wasn’t there at times, which was quite hurtful to my feelings and, well, my ego too. And then last time we saw each other she just suddenly started to respond to my flirting attempts and before I knew it, she was all over me cuddling and kissing and even, ehm, giving some attention to my private bits, but don’t tell our parents.
That’s the thing – our parents. They have some sort of crazy notion in their heads, that they cannot breed us together because I am white and she is brown – does that sound politically correct to you? Exactly!
I love all the bitches – the white ones, the yellow, the brown and the black – as long as she’s got good legs and sense of humour, I’m game. Labradors are beautiful in all shapes and sizes. Love sees no colour! And the fact that she is going to have some other dog’s children soon just breaks me heart.
I’ve just googled it – apparently yellow and chocolate theoretically CAN mate, but it’s more complicated and you need to thoroughly check the genealogy in those cases before you breed them and it can be trickier. It’s weird though, because there’s absolutely no rules against black labs mating with white ones and obviously all OK within the same colour (racist!) So I’m guessing noone’s going to bother to care about the unfulfilled and tragic love of one white Romeo and his brown Juliet 🙁
Fine, I’ll have to forget about my sexy little chocolate but life is so unfair.
Some dogs bark practically all the time. I’m not a big fan of that kind of behaviour. I find it quite intrusive and attention-seeking to be honest with you. Sometimes though, I good warning bark is important.
Look at me for example. I don’t really bark. I’m usually quiet as a mouse when we are on walkies or in a pub. Everything changes when I’m inside our house and there is someone outside and I can see them through the window. Or hear them. Or sense their intrusive presence. Then I get on super alert mode and I turn into Lord Protector of our household.
First my muscles get tense and I sit straight up focusing my whole attention on the person outside. Then I bark and growl really loudly. Apparently it is quite annoying (or so I’m told). Personally I think it is the right thing to do for a cautious, concerned citizen and it should be appreciated more by the people who are being guarded that way by the concerned citizen.
It doesn’t matter who it is; the postman, a complete stranger or neighbours coming back from work. Even thought I always greet the neighbours politely and play with them on the street, the situation changes completely, when I can spot them from the inside, when they’re lurking on the outside, ready to invade our house at any moment.
For example this is me watching closely and suspiciously as my dad cleans our front yard. I love him. He is family. But can anyone REALLY vouch for him or do we know EVERYTHING about him? I’ve only known him for less than 2 years. Is that enough to really know a person?
You can never be too careful when it is your house. A person may look friendly to you or may even pretend to be your friend and still be after your stuff. For example, what if they break in and steal my Pedigree supplies? Or play with my plastic bone without including me!? People can be monsters sometimes!
Funny thing is that deep down everyone knows I’m soft and would never actually bite anyone. Even I know that. They’re just warning barks, but if someone doesn’t know me, they will think twice before trying something funny! And if someone I know and trust tricks me, well let’s just say: Fool me once – shame on you. Fool me twice – also shame on you, but at least bring me a treat.
I’m really sad today.
We just found out that Dave, the hedgehog that my parents and I tried to rescue over weekend had been put to sleep:(
We found him on the road next to our house on Saturday night, when I was going out for my last wee of the day (accompanied by my dad who always goes with me to make sure no perverts peek when I do my private business)
The hedgehog must had been slightly hit by a car or attacked by another animal; he was lying on the street and making crying noises. I felt so sorry for him. We got mum to come down and she took him to our garden, where she rested him under a cover of a T-shirt and gave him some of my food. (no one really checked if that was OK with me, but I forgive them as it really was a stressful situation) A bottle of warm water was also put close to him to keep him warm.
Dad named him Dave despite the fact we didn’t know its’ gender. That sort of thing would not come as a surprise to you, if you knew my dad – all I’ll say on the subject is that the two best plants in our house are called Suzie and Eric.
The next morning mum rang the local Hedgehog Rescue and they have been amazing – collected Dave really quickly and took him to the vets for an x-ray. Only today did we think to enquire about him as we assumed he was fine, but unfortunately it turned out that he had his front leg broken and it is apparently unrecoverable for hedgehogs in the wild:(
The lady said we still did a good thing – he would have died a slow painful death otherwise and apparently magpies also try to get the wounded or hurt hedgehogs.
So even though we are all sad today, we know we’ve done a good thing and we encourage all of you to always try to help when you see an animal in pain – they cannot speak for themselves and not all of them will have blogs to express their feelings, but they do HAVE feelings and one of them is pain. If you found an animal in need, first google what are their immediate needs and food/temperature requirements in such a situation and then, when you’ve made it more comfortable, look around if there’s a local rescue or animal charity you can ring for help.
Rest in peace, Dave The Hedgehog,
Shaun The Housedog
Many of you will know that I’ve been naughty in the past and when my parents finally stopped caging me few weeks ago, they were really terrified that I might go back to my demolition habits.
I haven’t though and I’ll tell you why – they bought me a radio!
It is nice and vintage; it plays me music and talks to me all day long. It doesn’t lose patience with me or ask me to leave it alone. It doesn’t shut the door on me when it eats its’ dinner or shout at me when I’ve scratched some piece of furniture. In other words – it’s much better than my parents.
The reasons they bought me a radio are unknown to me, but I suspect it was to keep me occupied. Either they are devious geniuses or they must know me very well, cause I love it! I don’t even think about destroying stuff anymore – feels childish now when I think about my previous destructive accomplishments. It is so much better to just chill out to the music or listen to some silly conversations about nothing. Surprisingly entertaining!
Although I must say that mum was not impressed the other day when she came home from work and found me jumping up and down to “The Final Countdown”. Not to mention her reaction when she caught me listening to some soppy Lionel Ritchie’s song. She immediately grabbed her phone and texted dad – I’m sure that whatever she wrote was not particularly nice! How is that my fault? It’s not like I can stand on my back paws and change the radio channel with my front ones!
Even more annoying when sometimes I hear comments like “What is that dog listening to now!?” or “I’m afraid that dog has developped some bad music taste!” (I have noticed that every time they have something mean to say about me they refer to me as that dog rather than Shaun.)
The channels I listen to vary depending on who’s set the radio for me last. If it’s mum it usually is some 80s hits, while dad always puts sports on for me. If anyone bothered to ask ME what I wanted, they would find out that I’d prefer some hip-hop doggy music, but guess what – no one asked!
I know you haven’t heard from me for awhile and you’ve probably started feeling some withdrawal symptoms already. I do apologise, even though it wasn’t really my fault.
My mum has had loads of technical issues with her computer for a long time and finally it became clear we needed a new labtop. But it couldn’t be just ANY labtop. Oh no – it had to be the perfect computer that combines matte screen, good size memory, fast processor, enough storage room and loads more. Don’t ask me what all that means – I don’t know and I don’t care. The bottom line is – she has been searching for ages and then, when she bought it, she has been setting it up for some more time. Absolute nightmare!
And when everything was finally ready to be used and played with, who do you think got the first dibs on computer time and whose internet needs got completely disregarded in the process? If you’re thinking that The Shaunmeister got screwed again, you are so right! Apparently you don’t come high in the priority queue for pc privileges if you’re a Labrador puppy. At the same time dad was enjoying the full computer access for whatever boring stuff he needed to read about! In case you’ve not realised that yet – there is no justice in this house. Just terror and favouritism!
I don’t even get all that fuss about computers – I love using them, but does it really matter what make and what parameters your pc is? I only use it for fun stuff and I really don’t care how fast it is, but I have noticed that humans often use it for other things than blogging or browsing through the Labrador bitches photos. Like for work and stuff… There are many computers in offices for example.
It must be fun to work in an office. All these people sitting together, able to play and run around as much as they want to, all day long! So many things to throw and bite; and all that lovely crunchy paper!
Hmmm I just heard my parents talking about their day at the office and I’m not sure if it sounds so cool after all. It doesn’t sound like they throw things or play with anyone at all! And they can’t go home whenever they want to either! Sounds more like prison to me!
I COULDN’T WORK in the office and here is wHY:
- I would have to sit still and focused for 8 hours – I can only sit still and focused for the amount of time between someone showing me a treat and someone giving me the treat.
- I’d have to use human toilet – Which would be stressful not just for me, but also for my co-workers who would have problems adjusting to the unavoidable mess, not to mention the stress of walking in to the toilet to find a peeing dog standing on two paws and holding his bits with his right paw (unless everyone else at that workplace were dogs as well – that would obviously change the power balance of this scenario completely)
- I’d have to actually listen to my superiors – I don’t do listening. Or superiors! Just the very notion that someone is considered superior to ME is so ridiculous I cannot even cope!
- I wouldn’t have the ability to lie down and fall asleep on the floor whenever I’d feel bored – and that sounds like one of the basic perks I’d look for in a job.
- I’d have to wear clothes – I always thought it must be really uncomfortable for humans and there’s also the question of which style and image to choose – rasta dog? fluffy romantic puppy boy? A fashionable hipster with a man bun? A dodgy hound with a ponytail and a goatee? Too many choices and only one dog!
So there – I cannot count on making a career in this fascist environment. I’ll just have to stay at home and divide my time between sleeping, blogging and waiting to be taken out. It’s a tough life, but someone has to do it so other people can enjoy themselves working at the office!
So in case you were wondering what happened to that dog whose mouth never shuts and why he is not spamming you with the details of his life anymore – the answer is – I have been home all along, back from the kennels almost two weeks ago, but my labtop was broken and it took absolute ages to sort out. I missed the Internet and the attention for so long I was actually starting to feel some withdrawal symptoms and ,trust me, it’s not a pretty sight on a dog! Well I’m back now and if you thought you got rid of me for good – think again!
I really liked it in the kennels, but some aspects of kennel life resemble prison. Sure, my cage was massive and had two separate rooms, but at the end of the day it’s still a cage with bars and everything. And my parents got rid of my own cage at home good few weeks ago (as I’m all whipped now and do not unload my frustrations on furniture anymore) so I’m not used to being locked up like a common criminal anymore.
Having said that, the wardens were alright and they fed us regularly. They let us run few times a day and it was fun, even though they didn’t let me run with all the bitches that were in season (and that’s the best kind of bitches!) They said it was because I have not been castrated! Like it’s something good that I’ve missed out on!
Either way kennels are not that bad as long as you don’t bend over under the shower and act tougher than you feel, you’ll be fine. The secret is to bark louder than the other dogs and I can definitely do that. I generally feel like a badass after this experience. I got into a little disagreement with a small staffie, but we’re good now. Thought I’d have a little scar out of that incident and got all excited about it (bitches dig scars), but it’s healing now and I’m back to nice and loveable, when I wanted to be rough and ready 🙁
Hope you’ve all missed me like I’ve missed you!
I won’t be online for about a week and a half, because we are having a family vacation – I am going to my favourite kennels (yes!) and the parents are going abroad for my aunt’s wedding. They seem really sad for not being able to take me – yeah, like I want to parade around in a miniature tie and be squeezed by all the tipsy relatives asking me who’s a good boy in baby talk!
I never understood why humans have this need to get married. If I found a bitch that I wanted to be with for the rest of my life, I would be really happy and I wouldn’t need her to be called Mrs Shaun or anything just to prove that she’s mine. Of course I’d pee on her instead and that would do the trick. But I suppose humans don’t like to do that in public, so they probably have no choice but to get married if they want to label someone as their property.
So instead they make all that fuss and spend all that money just to tell the world “Hey, this bitch is mine and from today on, noone else sniffs that butt!” That’s more or less what they say in the vows, right? There’s no harm in it though. And I am happy for my aunt and new uncle for having found someone to share the mutually exclusive butt sniffing experience for life.
In the meantime, I am still here searching for the one I can pee on forever.
It’s like Sting says – If you love someone, spray them with wee
See you soon
So we had that election thing yesterday and guess what? The world is still the same today, except for my dad who hasn’t slept most of the night and now looks like a zombie. But a happy zombie for some reason. I think he really wanted The Labour Party to get stronger. At least that was what I gathered from the fragments of his conversations to people for the last few weeks.
I don’t understand why humans care so much about all that politics nonsense. All the politicians want the same – money and power. And none of them ever mentions the welfare of dogs, so I couldn’t be more bored with them.
I guess The Labour Party wants to save the NHS so technically I would be rooting for them, but then again – there’s never been any NHS for dogs and I haven’t heard them say anything about changing it, so….
Having said that, The Conservatives want to legalise fox hunting and that’s just pure evil. If there are still humans stupid and cruel enough to hunt anything, they need to be stopped with any means necessary. And, as a canine, I feel somewhat related to foxes. Not to mention that I am a fox myself! (in a purely aesthetic manner of course)
So, all in all, I suppose it’s good that it resulted the way it did, although I still think that NHS should be accessible for dogs too! And there should be dog representatives in Parliament, dozing off during other politicians’ speeches, taking bribes and having affairs with their secretaries. That sort of life would suit me, I’m sure. Shaun The MP sounds good, don’t you think?
And anyone who hunts foxes can brexit off! @#$%
I might run in the next election. I have already started working on my future campaign. Here’s the first draft.
I thought I’d tell you about my first day in my present home as a little innocent puppy and show you how cute I was back then.
As we estabilished HERE, I was adopted by my human parents some time ago and lived with them ever since as their generally happy, but delightfully rebellious son.
I don’t actually remember my first day after adoption (or anything before it for that matter), but here’s how it happened, according to my parents.
When they brought me home, I was so scared, I hid in the corner and wouldn’t move for many hours.
Then they put my on the sofa to sit with them and I was even more terrified (I probably didn’t have a clue what those huge monsters wanted from me and imagination is always worse than the reality so…)
Anyway, probably because of all that fear, I got constipated and wouldn’t poo for the whole evening. As a result, I pooed a lot in my cage later on, when they were fast asleep upstairs. Then I howled, because I was forced to sit so close to the poo I just did. Then I stepped into the poo and howled some more. Eventually they got up at 5am (AT LAST!) and cleaned the whole mess up. They say I had never pooed in my cage after that. I’m not suprirised at all. I’m sure I’d much rather poo in THEIR bed instead, if I had the chance.
I was adorable though, right? Do you see that baby fat? That has now turned into pure muscle and sex appeal, I assure you.
I can’t help but notice how dopey I look on those old photos though. Do you think it’s possible my parents drugged me at the breeder’s house and simply kidnapped me straight from my poor biological mother’s womb? I wouldn’t put it past them!