Browndog the big rap singer

    When we had two dogs, I always thought that the fat white dog, ‘Cino was a treat whore. She was the one that came running in to eat, demanded a treat, even before dinner, and while waiting for dog food would jump straight up in the air. She had a vertical leap to rival Michael Jordan. Or at least Charles Barkley. Matter of fact she was built more like Barkley than Jordan. We also had the Brown dog.

     When ‘Cino went to dog heaven, Brown dog was been possessed by the ghost of ‘Cino. But not all of her ghost was in him. I did not think an exorcism was in order, but she definitely had taken to part of his personality. He became a treat whore. He got to the point that he would go to the door, go outside and then come back in just for the treat. They always got a treat for going outside. He had that one down!

    Brown-brown, as he was often called was a dog of many personalities. He was the mellow one. Almost cat-like. He loved hard, and was fiercely loyal. He had a menacing bark, but was a pansy. Even keeping his junk intact didn’t change his docile nature. He loved belly rubs and showing off his junk. Both of our dogs were the jiggily-I-Love-you-So-Much variety.

     However, his biggest personality was rap singer. He had his own jingle. “He’s the browndog, he’s a Big rap singer…he’s the browndog…” He sang every time we came home, and whenever he was excited. He always greeted us with song. ‘Cino was the barker, browndog the singer. God forbid that you didn’t love him up soon enough. The noise was deafening.

     The other day I was, if you can imagine, typing a blog. As I was typing in my QWERTY modified hunt and peck style like the great newsies of yesteryear, I felt a cold wet nose push my left elbow, and then created THE new word sImnefogjailkhf. I have yet to decide what this word means, from what root language it hails, how it is actually pronounced, or what word was originally intended. It is a most likely a word the dog language. I think it means treat whore. Or rap singer...

      I turned and half expected to see the old girl, sad eyed and slightly pouting, begging for a treat. I knew this was impossible, for she is no longer among the living, but I was surprised to see Brown-brown, sitting there looking much like ‘Cino looking for a treat. I chose to ignore his request, and continued to type the pithy words of wisdom of the blog of the day.

     A few minutes later, the brown dog walked away. Then he came back and did a short rap and looked at the treat bin. Then he looked back at me. Then back at the treat bin. Yup, Browndog, the big rap singer, was a treat whore.

     Browndog was low-key. He had a low dominance factor. We didn’t realize how dominant ‘Cino was until she was gone. He could have been called Eyeor (sp?) from the Winnie the Pooh series. He had the “woe is me look.” But he was a good dog. A lover not a fighter and a lot smarter than he looked.

     My wife had him addicted to canned food as well. It smells like vomit, however, I am not sure what it tastes like and I do not want to find out either. I thought he liked the kind that looked like Dinty Moore, but he prefers the kind that looks like corned beef hash. As you know if you regularly read my blog, I have had both dog snacks and cat snacks. And I prefer dog snacks, but I have not eaten one in a few years, but I have no idea what dog food or cat food taste like.

     The other day I was picking up some more canned dog food. You know, the kind of food that looks like corned beef hash. I grabbed the cans and headed to the beer aisle where I grabbed some Molson. Then I headed to the register. I went the self check-out. As I walked up to the only one that was available I saw a sign, “no cash” Seriously? You can’t take cash? WTF??? I went to the next aisle.

      The clerk rang up my groceries and the bagger asked if I wanted paper or plastic. I responded with “plastic, then I cart it away after he is done with it in the same bag it came home in.” she wrinkled her nose and kind of laughed. Then she then asked what I wanted to put the beer in. I said, “I would carry it out, without a bag, because Brown dog only drinks Molson. And he would probably be drinking in the car.” I know open alcohol and all, but you just can’t tell Brown dog anything. Hey, HE IS a big rap singer.

     The last couple weeks he had been dragging ass. Not the chipper singer when we came home, he barely moved, for hours at a time. I was sure he was not long for this world. No matter how much we prepare we are never ready for the loss of a friend. I woke up one night last week and half-carried and cajoled him to the food dish. He ate a couple mouthfuls from my hand. He didn’t even eat his treats. We lay on the floor and slept for a minute or maybe an hour. I knew, but was not ready to accept what was imminent. My wife urged me to call the vet. I had some lame excuse, like I was working, but eventually I called the vet. He could be seen on Saturday.

    Last night he went on a road trip to see Uncle Chuck and Chris. Granted it is only a 25 minute drive, and most times you would have thought it was getting an audience with the king. The rapping would start as soon as the collar was out. Not last night. He struggled to get in the car. He was a bit perkier for the evening. He seemed pretty good. Maybe he just had a cold… He ate some food, and some table scraps. He almost walked thru the screen door, but I think he had had a bit too much to drink. He is a big rap singer after all.

     He collapsed when we got home. I had to carry him up the stairs. He probably had too many Molson’s. Well, we all have our moments when we delude ourselves. He did not look good. Blame the beer and the hard parting life of a rap singer if you want. That’s what I did. But I knew.

     We took him the vet today. The old boy was not acting like the big rap singer that he is. He was struggling. The news was bad. He probably would not make it thru the week end. The day was here. Major suckage… We had him euthanized. It hurt. A lot. He was a good boy, and a great friend. I will miss him. Somewhere he is rapping with other dogs and hanging with the fat white girl.

Just another day in paradise