Say No to Pugs

Hey hopheads: leave your dog out of it. When you're riding that verdant wave, all zonked up on cannabis seeds, your dog may seem like the perfect companion for the journey, zoning out together onto some distant astral plane, where his fur feels like moon-grass and your shoelaces taste ribbons of fettucine boiled by the sun itself. Man's best friend right? Well unfortunately not all pursuits are suitable for a dog to embark upon. It's not the same kind of thing where taking Fido along to the chocolate donut and macadamia nuts buffet will result in a blown-out stomach and a trail of shimmery blood poos all over the rug and up the stairs. A high dog is a happy dog, or so it seems, but it's this kind of happiness that's colored by a loss of some of your control. For as much you guys may seem like pals, getting your dog wild on rhino seeds is going to make him respect you that much less, turning the master-hound relationship into something far less defined. Sure you might share a puff with your boss if offered, but it's always a turning point situation, the two of you lighting up in the parking garage one day and the next you're knowing it's all an act when he tries to hassle you about expense reports. It'll be the same with your dog. He'll start thinking of you as the good-time party master and know he can take a little more, sneak a few more snausages while you're falling asleep on the couch in the afternoon, without you having a thing to say about it. So next time you order a lid from cannabis seeds uk think about the negative precedent you'll be setting if you extend the revelry into the realm of mano-a-dogo.

Movin' Out

Jesse: Dogs love to move. Maybe it's because dogs love conveyancing at moveme.com and a chance to get their paws all over that is like finding a scrumptious heap of vomit getting all toasty in the sun. The layout is all Picasso blue period without the emaciation which appeals to dogs because their color vision is slanted to the green end of the spectrum and ladies with sweet headsets remind them of their rambunctious youths, little pups rolling around in endless green fields.

But it's not all fun and games. When you need a conveyancing quote you need a conveyancing quote, its like the call of nature in some ways, and its not like you can just stroll down to the 7-11 or your local "We Sell Your Stuff on E-Bay" store to pick one up. Dogs understand this. They don't show it, but that look, the one they give you when you come out of the bathroom and they're just standing their next to the door, a little judgmental, a little wise, it's a real understanding of the demands of conveyancing and market fluctuation and the vagaries of moving in our fast-paced modern world.

But its cheap conveyancing that's important, you know. It's especially key for a dog, whose liquid assets are all expended on fire hydrants and who doesn't ever have much cash on hand. Moving can be hard on a dog. Their love for new experiences is what makes them so appealing in some ways but a lot of it is a front. As pack animals they need to be strong, to back the choices of the leader without question or any kind of obstinance. In nature that would get them nipped in the butt without a second thought. In the domestic world you're the leader of the pack and your dog will follow you wherever you ask him to. But try to keep his feelings in mind and realize that cheap conveyancing makes his dreams a little sweeter as he nods off to sleep in front of the stove.

Dogloo

Jesse: Did dogs ever really routinely live in dog houses or is this yet another fabricated myth of magical pre-hippie America, like sock-hops or the Fonz? There's no way of knowing for sure but I recently recently found a dogloo abandoned in some dense brush and it was like stumbling upon the ruins of a lost civilization.

Wolves

Jesse: Maybe science has theorized this already but I feel like dogs are just wolves who thousands of years of coddling and puppy treats have left severely mentally retarded. Which, like child-safety guards on outlets, is probably for the best. Having a wolf for a pet would involve constantly outwitting it as it repeatedly hatched brilliant schemes to eat you while you were sleeping or looking into the fridge or in the bath. Sure, complain the next time Fido wedges his head in the banister, but remember you're only a few IQ points away from him eating you and all of your relatives.

Lisa: A ginger dog is a most wonderful thing; this one in particular is something special, do you see

Dogs Eating Our Blogwork

The dog-ate-my-homework legend actually started in the 18th century, when certain breeds of dogs were trained by professionals of low moral standing to snatch important papers straight from the hands of their rivals. It worked in a sense, until the victims started training passenger pigeons to steal the papers back from the dogs and London started to look like that scene in The Birds where the birds break through the window of the doggie day-care center. The bobbies had to blow their whistles until everyone got a hold of themselves and the streets were covered in doo. Yes it's an unfortunate anecdote, but it proves that there is some historical validity to the whole thing and kids who used it back in the day weren't as obviously yanking the chain as it may seem to our modern minds. Anyway, to summarize: a dog got into this blog and ate the last four months of posts. What a strange coincidence.

Dogs of War

Jesse: This guy somehow looks like even more of a dope when you consider him in comparison with the cold efficiency of this two-legged killing machine. You may have to operate the gun yourself but with it you can bring down any number of things: deer, bison, pickup trucks, low-flying helicopters. This dog could maybe kill a rabbit but only after scrambling through the bushes on some madcap Maramaduke-style chase around circles with this pathetic coup de grâce where it slips and crushes the poor creature with its tremendous cornfed ass. Then you're eating hot pockets for dinner while Bongo here looks at you like you've just asked him to find the square root of Kentucky.

and Julius Rosenberg on alto clarinet

Jesse: You hear about this dame they got on the piano tonight? She's a real dog. Louis B. Mayer over here thinks its a laugh riot.

Babes in the Wood

Jesse: As the Greek god of juniper, deep-sea fishing and postal deliveries, Actaeon always had some dogs scrambling around underfoot, so when he bursts into this scene with two yappers at his heels its no suprise. But what else is going on here? Are all these thick naked ladies standing in as a gaggle of vernal fertility symbols? Do they represent the spoils of the hunt? Feminine mystique? Nah man those are just some titties.

Dogsong

Jesse:

Every dog is like a puzzle
every dog has its own charms
so before you put on that muzzle
think of Ol' Yeller back on the farm

(chorus)
YEAH
some dogs are good
some dogs are bad
but all dogs need a helpin' hand
doggs who are rude
dogs who are sad
help make this a better land


I like to think that somewhere a man is sitting at his piano furiously furrowing his brow over the precise lyrics for the next infectious jingle that's going to have us all rushing out to stock up on Puppy Chow or donate our nickels to Pals for Pups or some other vaguely sweet-sounding charity. He can use this one if he wants.

Lisa: Jesse I told you to stay out of my room

Bo

Jesse: Motherfucker's all "no comment" sniffin nonchalant at that boom and trotting around the grounds like he owns the place (which he does), these reporters scrambling along behind all out of breath trying for an interview. Afternoons spent nosing around the new digs, fetchin' shit, uncovering a secret terrorist cell among the gardening staff and digging up some evidence behind the new herb garden. Obama's like "good boy" with the thousand watt smile and those guys are shipped off to Guantanamo post-haste. There hasn't been a hound this bad in the White House since Rover Eisenhower bit into Kruschev's wingtip and refused to let go.