Something in my dog's tiny brain has wired him to do some pretty outrageous things. For instance, when he gets out of the tub, if you put a towel on the floor he writhes around like an irate water moccasin (a snake), ready to destroy.
Sometimes he'll forget how to run up the basement stairs and set up a mournful howl, the likes of which is only seen on some lower levels of hell.
He also sniffs dandelions until they make him sneeze. EVERY TIME.
But one of the most bizarrely inexplicable things about him, has to be his love of pop containers. Not the cans (though we recently had some success teaching him to carry single cans from one room to the next, more about that if anyone is interested?) As I said, not the cans but the boxes, themselves! It doesn't matter the size, he just loves them. He loves to carry them around, sometimes he worries them, but mostly he just trots around ENTIRELY BLIND to his surroundings because his head is encased in an empty pop box.
So, weblings, without further adieu, I give thee,
In order to take this shot, I had to get him to sit still, which meant five minutes of hearing him blundering through the house while I called for him. He turned left, right, left... crashing into the wall and stalling his progress no less than six times! That is determination! We could learn a thing or too from my outrageous mutt :)
You'll notice he has a Coke container, please, let me explain! I'm a Pepsi-lover, die-hard, at heart. But the fact is, we don't have a lot of money, so when we do splurge for it, we go for whatever is usually the cheapest sale. Thus, the Coke. (Else we would have The Pepsimadillo. Sadly, we have the Cokephant.)
The Pirates of K-Mart
The container from above was tossed from the fridge to make way for the NEW containers. K-Mart had them 3/$11, so I picked those up. As I mentioned, we are not the richest of folk, so we do what we can with what we have... for example, changing our regular dollars into GOLD dollars. They're just more fancy.
With tax, it was around $11.72, so naturally, having only gold dollars at my disposal, I paid with 12 gold dollars. The woman took them and looked at me suspiciously.
"What're these?" she demanded. "Fifty cent pieces?"
I admit to a moment of surprise. "They're gold dollars?" I answered questioningly, as if her ill-founded mistrust had persuaded me that I was in error.
"Twelve of 'em!" she growled.
She punched a few buttons on the register and snarled, "Your change'll be twenty-eight cents!" To be honest, I half expected a "YARRRR!" thrown on the end.
None was forthcoming.
Perhaps I will have to hoist my own Jolly Roger.