I've had him for almost two years now. He is a sweet, beautiful, loving, worthless asshole who likes to fart near my mouth. He is my Bull Terrier Mace, also known as Mace Dog, or my personal favorite, Stinky.
Parents love to tell people with animals that it's nothing like raising kids. Well, short of teaching him to speak, (oh wait, I did do that.) I'd say cleaning up something's shit and puke and getting up at ungodly hours to cater to this thing's needs might be the closest thing to parenthood I'll ever get. Mace doesn't shit in a diaper, he shits on the carpet, pees on it, and then tries to bury it by raking his back paws over it. Then tracks shit over all parts of the house with carpet, stealthily avoiding the areas easy to clean . Does your devil baby do that?
It isn't all bad with him, I shouldn't have started like that. Mace is one of the most loving dogs I have ever met. He is a total mama's boy who follows me around the house and cleans my arms and most of my face in the morning. Whenever I have a moment to sit down, he needs to be on top of my lap, not seeming to understand that he weighs upwards of 75 pounds. It would be adorable if I didn't have tiny claw-mark bruises all over my thighs. He nudges me ever so sweetly with his toy to play tug-of-war, tail wagging and doe eyed, ears cocked to the most darling degree. He's also unbelievably good at sighing.
Another thing- his skull is, I would estimate, four inches of solid bone and stupidity. When I bend to tie my shoes, he likes to come up under my face and ask for cuddles. If it didn't result in black eyes and split lips, I'd be all for it. But no, my dog makes many of my friends and family wonder if I'm one of those silent victims in a domestic relationship.
Mace sleeps better than probably 65% of the world. If he's lucky, he'll enter our full size bed under the covers and fall asleep by our feet. But by mid-morning I'll wake up to a dirty paw pushing my gums and teeth away from him as he stretches to force us off the bed. Head on the pillow, he'll sigh loudly because his life must be more difficult than I could possibly understand. Occasionally, I'll wake up spooning with his large dog ass, which, if his tail is in the right position, there is a high possibility that some part of my face/neck/hands will be touching a dog butt hole.
I wish I looked at anything the way my dog looks at food. His begging knows no limits. When he first graced us with his presence, he'd merely snatch the food out of our hands or off our plates because he'd never been trained in house manners. Now, he'll sit on his bed next to the fire place, sigh, whimper, cock his head and give us these huge doe eyes of a victim that is clinging to life after months of starvation. I could never know the kind of love that Mace feels for hot dogs.
Mace is prone to nerves when going #2. He will only do so comfortably with me, his mother, and also while making direct eye contact. But, if we happen to walk by someone eating, he usually won't mind squatting and trying while making eye contact with them. He's easy like that.
One time I made dog treats for Mace. I was pretty proud of myself, having splurged the extra twenty cents on Organic pumpkin. Then I got real drunk and decided it was training day for Mace, and he probably ate upwards of thirty five cookies. The resulting farts smelled other worldly. They made our house stink for days. Completely silent, we knew they were happening because he would bolt upright and frantically look at his asshole, as if he too couldn't believe what was trapped inside him. Sometimes he'd lick it, other times he would just sigh and lie back down. He woke us up in the middle of the night to unleash havoc on the backyard, and Jeremy proudly proclaimed that he had vomited while Mace took what he described as a "dumpkin".
Have I mentioned he hates cats? I don't mean this in the typical cat vs. dog way... I mean he kills cats. This is not something that I am proud of, but a reason why Mace cannot leave the house without a leash on. He has and will continue to commit murder with wild abandon. I'll just leave that one there.
Part greyhound, Mace is incredibly lazy. Which is perfect, because so am I. Incredibly. Some people say that your dog picks up on cues you are sending. I believe that sentiment wholeheartedly because the minute I see a tweaker, Mace loses his mind and barks something to the effect of, "I will rip your face off and shit on your corpse." I would like to think that if I was a dog I'd do the same thing, but since I am a pathetic white girl usually I just ignore it while tensing up my entire body with fear. Same thing.
He loves the vet. This is because all vets and vet techs find Mace adorable and love to shower him with attention and cookies. Also, I secretly think it's because he doesn't bat an eyelash when they lube up and stick the thermometer up his butt hole. Just speculating.
So now, he's in his seventh year and I feel like I have about seven more left. So for the next few years I get to be acutely aware of bodily functions, sighing sounds coming from different rooms of the house and really, really weirdly inappropriate eye contact. And it all started because we got day drunk in New Zealand and looked at Craigslist.