Early last fall, a new dog moved into the neighborhood.  He was sort of a blocky-headed Border collie…but not quite.  Mostly black, with some tan, a lot of tan ticking on his front legs, a husky sort of dude, probably about 75 pounds.  He looked like a Rottweiler blend, perhaps the reason for the blocky-head?  Anyway, his Mom is Monica, and she warned My Dad and I right away that…what’s his name?……Wesley…that’s his name, did NOT like men and did not get along well with other dogs.  My faithful, loyal, well-informed followers (thank you!) are very aware that I am very calm, very cool, very collected….unless I see a FedEx truck, or their associated vehicles.  I am very well behaved when meeting other dogs….I just stand there, tail up and wagging briskly, and I wait for the dog, strange or not, to approach me.  My Dad and his family, and most of my human buddies have come to the belief that I give off some subtle signal (EFF with me at your own peril!).  On top of my well-mannered behavior, most of the dog people around here call My Dad, The Dog Whisperer…he is pretty cool with strange dogs and they like him as quickly as they like me…but just because you like me does not mean I am going to like you, if you’re a dog…I’m very picky about the canines I am going to interact with.  If I like you, I will know immediately.  If I don’t like you, we will exchange canine pleasantries, CALMLY AND RESPECTFULLY, and I will continue on my walk.  People are another matter…I really enjoy meeting and greeting ALL people.  I am so in tune with being a Therapy Dog that I will go out of my way to say HI! to a person in a wheelchair – really!  Where were we?  What’s his name, Wesley, the blocky-headed BABY…he is SUCH a baby…he whimpers when he sees My Dad, he wants to hang out at our place, AND he is a toy thief!  He has taken my toys right from My Dad’s unwilling hand…gently, but with authority.  And then, after stealing MY TOY (one time it was my two-tone green squeaky crocodile or alligator), Wesley immediately heads for home.  His Mom, Monica, says he takes the toy home and DESTROYS it.  Jeez, some of my toys have lasted months…even years!  I pretend I’m being rough with them but they’re still intact.  Wait…what?  Oh, yeah…My Dad just reminded me that I have a reputation for popping those play-balls, and there are also times when toys, plush toys, squeaky toys, deserve a good pull-apart…especially those toys with the white fluffy stuff inside of them.

Which brings me back to Wesley.  My Dad and I ran into Monica and Wesley this morning.  My Dad had two-tone green squeaky alligator with him.  As soon as My Dad saw Wesley cruising in, he hid the green alligator at the back of his shorts.  Wesley knew there was a toy…somewhere…but was too polite to knock My Dad to the ground and search him for the toy (I hope).  Wesley likes to insert himself into our walks and really likes to hang out by our door.  Then, My Dad, the wizard that he is, brought out a small Angry Birds plush toy that was given to me as a gift…MY TOY…although I must admit that it was not a toy of great interest.  So My Dad offers the toy to Wesley…Wesley opens his teeth just a teeny bit and takes the Angry Birds plush toy with a slow pinching movement…I thought that was sort of WEIRD.  Wesley then lays down and begins treating Mr. Angry Bird like he is a fresh kill…pulling the outer layer from this poor toy little bits at a time.  And then, Wesley gets to that white stuff, inside Mr. Angry Bird, and very deliberately, almost surgeon-like, begins making a pile of white fluff to THE RIGHT (and only the right) SIDE of Mr. Angry Bird.  Here check out the photos of THE DISEMBOWELER at work…



And something else about Wesley…something I can identify with…HE DOESN’T LIKE HIS PICTURE TAKEN!  He started giving it to My Dad, barking at him…”Don’t take my picture during a disembowelment!”  You’ll notice I stayed in the background.


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