Posts Tagged With: Farts

The Lilacs

It’s my favorite time of year again! It’s warm, the sun is out, we have 4 months worth of warm temps in front of us and most of all…..MY LILACS HAVE COME IN!!!!

 

Actual photo of my lilacs

Actual photo of my lilacs

I only have about 2 weeks of being surrounded in my purpley loveliness and each year I make sure to enjoy it to the fullest.

These sweet-smelling flowers are beneficial in many ways:

1.) The backyard smells awesome.

2.) The lilac bushes are full and leafy so I don’t have to see my sweaty, shirtless neighbors.

3.) I pick the flowers and bring them inside to use as a natural deodorizer. Mack crop dusts the house about every 10 minutes on the 8’s, Peterbilt manages to forever smell like a wet Sasquatch and my husband punctuates his sentences with farts:

“I’m hungry” (toot.)

“What’s for dinner” (rip?)

“Peterbilt jumped the fence and is running amok in the neighborhood again” (POOT!)

Although to be honest, Peterbilt escapes so often, it’s more commonly punctuates with a “toot.” than a exclamatory “POOT!”.

Just let the dog run. He’ll be back and if not, well, then that’s cool, too.

4.) I can sit underneath the bushes and pretend I’m in a magical forest. I’m the queen of Pinot Grigio-land.

So yesterday, I was out snipping more lilacs to put in a vase. I noticed what looked to be like two, upside down bird’s nests made of grass on the ground, with a large tuft of gray fur, balled in on top of it.

“What kind of bird would make a nest out of fur?”, I wondered.

I used my scissors to lift the nest and peek inside,expecting to see eggs. Instead, I saw something small and furry, move inside.

Bunnies. Two bunnies. In a small hole in the ground by the root of one of the pine trees in our backyard. Just out in the open! What type of unfit mother leaves babies vunerable to such beasts as an always-hungry, possibly diabetic, 13-year old bulldog and a 5-year old, spawn of Satan bulldog? Doesn’t she know? Doesn’t she read my blog?

Oh the poor things! How are they going to survive? How will I protect them? They were about the size of golf balls.

All sorts of scenes are starting to play through my head:

-Mack gulping the bunnies down and devouring their nest. Seriously. The dog would eat the nest.

-Peterbilt ruthlessly murdering the babies for the pure sport of it, his blood-stained face peering through the back door asking to come inside to vomit them up on a bathroom rug.

-Hubs mowing over them, a brief, red spray of blood, mama bunny looking off in the distance with tear in her eye

I didn’t want to disturb them too much, so I did not take a picture.

I brought Hubs out to the backyard to prove to him these were rabbits and that I was not crazy.

“Well”, he said. “We can take care of that.”

“NO!!!”, I yelled. “Please don’t kill or move them! Help me think of another way that we can keep the dogs away and keep them safe!”

Google it, he says. Find out how long bunnies are helpless for.

So I did:

http://www.inarkansas.com/84984/baby-bunnies-in-your-yard-heres-what-to-do-about-them

So Mama Rabbit isn’t a deadbeat mom after all! And now I can move them so Mack won’t turn them into appetizers!

Here’s hoping Mama Rabbit doesn’t come tearin’ ass out of the bushes at me and gnaw my nose off. Because then I wouldn’t be able to enjoy those lilacs.

 

 

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Categories: Bulldogs, Farts | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Movie Night with Mack

Trying to watch a movie with Mack in our finished basement, aka Mack’s Bachelor Pad, is trying and is usually peppered with unnecessary interruptions in forms of certain smells and noises. The older he has gotten, the longer the list of unreasonable demands that pop up as we are watching a movie. Last night, I hid my empty cup of hot cocoa in a spot I thought would be safe from a nosy Mack Truck, but within 15 seconds, he had found the mug and was lapping up the remnants off the rim. Pausing the movie for the 3rd time was annoying, but it was only Grudge Match so it’s not like we were on the edge of our seats. Actually, having a visual break from watching a very saggy and shirtless Sylvester Stallone and an even saggier Robert Deniro box was a blessing in disguise.

Movie night has become an experience and although we better at dealing with it, sometimes company is not. I like to think that if there were ever an orientation video/audio to “Movie Night with Mack” and if Mack could talk, it would sound a little like this:

——————————————————————————————–

Welcome to movie night with your host, Mack Truck the bulldog! Make yourself at home in his downstairs apartment and help yourself to any of his toys in his toy box. Wait, no, you can’t have that one. Or that one. Or his Wubba. No, definitely not the Wubba. In fact, you know what? Scratch the whole toy box thing. Better yet, as far away from the toy box as you possibly can.

To maximize your Movie Night experience, Mack has come up with a few, simple guidelines. These easy to follow guidelines will be read by your overweight and ornery host, Mack. (Mack’s voice is similar to Billy Bob Thornton’s character in Sling Blade, only more angry than handicapped and with a heavy Texas drawl. The producer’s part will be italicized. Warning: Mack has a potty mouth.)

(tapping of the lavier microphone with a paw)

“Hello? HELLO? Are we live? Yes, Mack. It’s on now. What am I supposed to be doing again? Reading your rules about movie night. C-can I have a treat first? Only after you’re done. Fine, dick. ‘The rules of Movie Night by Mack Truck.'”

“Hello! Welcome to Movie night! I’m Mack Truck the Bulldog and I have prepared a few rules so that Movie Night can be an enjoyable experience for all involved. I’d be happy to answer any questions once I’m done but in the mean time, please shut the fuck up. Mack, remember. If you want people to follow your rules, you have to be nice. I AM being nice! I said “please”!

“Number 1: You can sit an any couch in my apartment except mine. How does that saying go? ‘I don’t swim in your toilet so don’t pee in my pool?’ Yeah. Always wanted to use that phrase. Heh! Mack, I don’t believe that’s the correct way to use that phrase. Oh. Ok….uhhh… how about ‘I don’t shit in your yard so don’t sit on my couch?’ Heh! Oh wait, I do shit in their yards, don’t I?….Let’s move onto number two…….

Heh! Number 2….Oh! You mean the 2nd rule! Ok, Number 2: Any movie that you bring will have to be inspected by me first. Expect random sniffdowns of the DVD case and/or your hands for possible treats. Movies with barking dog sounds are highly encouraged. 

Number 3: Unless you plan to feed me, stay the fuck away from my food bowl. Uhhh….Mack? Let’s keep it polite, remember?

Number 4: During the movie, I will most likely grab a toy and ask for you to play a game of keep away or tug-of-war. YOU MUST ACCEPTANCE MY INVITATION!!!!! Mack, forced play during a movie is not being an accommodating host. SHUT UP! *burp*. Scuse me.

Number 5: The odds of you being crop dusted are high. Accept this and have an evacuation route planned beforehand. I…don’t see that one on my script. Mack, are you making these rules up as you go?

Number 6: You can hide your snacks, but I will always find them. Be prepared to have all foodstuffs confiscated by Officer Mack. Officer Mack? Yeah! Officer Mack looks a lot like me, but he’s not like me, or anything. Officer Mack has a mustache and a badge and confiscates snacks n stuff. Mack, do you don a costume to steal snacks? Uhh.. no? Where did you get a fake mustache and badge anyways?

…………….uhhhhhh….the dumpster behind Party City?

Number 7! You are allowed to watch your movie at a reasonable volume from the hours of 8:00 PM to 9:00 PM and after which you must shut all of the lights and noises so I can go to sleep on my couch. And then get the fuck out. Mack? Most movies are at least 90 minutes long. An hour isn’t a lot of time to watch a movie. Maybe we should adjust that time window? Hell no! My bedtime is approximately 9 PM! It’s my apartment and I can do what I want! Actually, it’s funny you brought that up because it appears you are two months behind on your rent.

Moving on now! If the details of Rule Number 7 are not adhered to, the following will result:

7A: I will sit on my couch and commence mournful whining at 9:00 PM. The whining will increase in volume and pathetic tone for 15 minutes and if the room isn’t completely dark and quiet, Stage 2 will commence. Uhh, Mack?

7B: Stage 2: I will get off of my couch and sit in front of you and whine. This may or may not include barks and nudges with my face. Mack! Stick to the script!

7C: Stage 3: I will glare at you in silence. Stink Eye City! MACK! Are you ignoring me?

7D: Stage 4: Crop dust time! Mack! Ma- (sound of Mack eating microphone)

*burp*

Where was I? Ah, yes. Subsection 1 of 7D! If the distant crop dusting is ignored, I will climb up on the couch and fire toots off at close range!

Number 8: Well, at this point, I’m on the couch and probably on your lap. Yeah. That’s 80 lbs of hot farty blubber parked right on  your balls. Try breathing now, fucker. That’s right. Give up and shut her down. Turn off ALL of the lights please…..Ah…..sleep time.

Well, that about wraps it up here. Questions? Comments? Be sure to call 1-800-Mack-Don’t-Care. Heh heh! I’m so funny and awesome, I’m going to lick my paws.

(mlam mlam mlam, slurp, slurp)

Copyright 2014

 

 

Categories: Bulldogs, Dogs, Farts, Funny, Pets, Potty Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Mack Checks a Ho

Its hard out here for a pimp.  Especially when your name is Mack Truck.

I got 99 problems

I got 99 problems

Mack’s a cool rider most days, but even Trucks have a limit. Mack laid the smack down on Saturday.

This story will be laid out differently than my others, with the italics being Mack-speak. Caution: Mack has a potty mouth worse than I do. That and he’s a little sexist at times……

The stack of reminder postcards from our vet was starting to topple, so The Husband and I gave in over the long holiday weekend and decided it’s finally time to bring The Fat Guy in to see the “White Coats” for his annual check up. Mack was up for a car ride. (OPEN THE GODDAMMED DOOR TO THE TRUCK! And fetch my leash, woman! No, not the new one. That old red one that stinks real good. Yeahhhh……)

We absolutely love our vet clinic to the point that we are willing to drive 30 minutes away down perpetually-gridlocked I-94 when there is a vet clinic, literally, within walking distance from our house. (Fuck walking.)

The doctors and staff there know both of our dogs by name when we call and are a pleasure to do business with. They’re not at all pushy about vaccinations. I’ve been to some vet clinics that act like they’ll call the ASPCA on you if you don’t get your dog/cat’s distemper vaccine. When I was broke and in my twenties, I had a vet tech look at me with such disgust when I declined my cat’s distemper shot (after paying for the rabies shot and a pack of Frontline) I never went back. I understand vet clinics are businesses but that type of behavior, bullying people into buying things they don’t feel comfortable with, is just in bad form. You’re getting off the subject, Treat Lady.

Anyways, going to the vet is a real treat for Mack. Mmm Hmm.

I’ve never seen a dog so happy and relaxed about a place that has consistently stabbed him with needles for the last 12 years. He’s got his own routine he runs through each time we visit:

-Sniffs around outside (gotta check my pee-mail), takes a leak, maybe a dump (which I will bag up and hand to the receptionist with a smile, “Here’s that stool sample! She’s a honey of a turd!”), then walks through the door and intimidates a smaller and already panicked dog (Do you have a hoo-hoo or a hee-haw? Let me inspect your junk, DO NOT RESIST!). He walks up to the reception desk and wags his nub at the delightful, hitch-pitched female voice that greets him. (Hello nice lady. Look in awe at me) He then impresses the staff by doing his best perky little trot over to the scale, walks onto it without force or assistance and plops a sit for the tech to get his weight. (I get a  treat now) Granted, this is only a performance of which Mack knows the end result is one of those mediciney-looking dog treats. (What, are you new here? Give me my damn treat!!) Those things look like they have to be the most tasteless things in the world, but you know Mack. (GIVE ME MY FUCKING TREAT!!!) He gulps treats down before he has a chance to taste them. (NOM. GULP. FART. More please!) And then continues to try to work over the girls for more. (Don’t get stingy on a bully now)

The scale groans with the weight of the giant bulldog that has foisted himself onto the contraption…..just kidding. “He’s 76 lbs! Down from 87 last year! That’s a lot of weight to lose in a year”, the vet tech said. Mack was too busy inhaling another pill treat to care about his accomplishment. (*Burp*)

This time, Mack was due for his Bordetella vaccine and Distemper. He also had a skin tag on this back that was now big enough to open up and bleed at times. It was about the size of…well….a really big booger. (I like boogers) The kind  you stick under your desk at work. (I’d totally eat those) That’s all I can compare it to. It was odd shaped.

The doctor came and gave Mack his usual look over. The doctor said he was in great shape (damn straight) and at the perfect weight even! We told the doctor about his skin tag and she said that would be no problem to remove. She left the room to get the anesthetic and his shots. (Say whut?!?!)

During that time, Mack farted once or twice in unusual anxiety. (Uh oh) Hubs and I slowly moved our shirt collars over our noses in synchrony. He started to pace around the exam room, knocking over the chairs and checking and rechecking the interior of the garage can. (Anything good in there? Damn. Better check again.) He looked up at the glass jar of treats on the counter (…what I would give….), and repeated the routine a few times more. Mack, was getting nervous. (THEY’RE SENDING ME TO THE GLUE FACTORY!!! I JUST KNOW IT!!!)

The doctor came in and Hubs hoisted nervous Chubs onto the table. (I CAN DO IT MYSELF, DICK!!!) The doctor gave him a shot to numb the area around the skin tag. She gave it a few seconds and proceeded to give him distemper shot. Mack jerked back in pain a little bit but I was there ready with a pill treat to make it all go away. (Oh, pill treats. You make it all worth while)

Then came the bordetella shot. (Whut?!?) This shot is sprayed through the nose. (WHUT?!?!?) The doctor approached Mack, and Mack held up his paw and pushed the doctor away! (ENOUGH’S ENOUGH!). The doctor tried again and received another paw to the chest. (DON’T MAKE ME TELL YOU THREE TIMES!)  The doctor tried again and then, he bit the air by her hand (Back OFF, B!). Mackie had had enough of this woman’s voodoo. Another bite (DOESN”T ANYONE SEE WHAT SHE IS TRYING TO DO???) and Husband had to use every muscle in his body to clamp his mouth shut and weight him down, getting a small dose of the vaccine in his face in the process. (Mmmfppfpf!)

That wasn’t even the end of it. They still had to remove the skin tag. We attached the leash to Mack’s collar and the doctor opened the door to get Mack into the back room. Mack threw his ass down went dead weight on her (No!!!!!!! The Glue Factory!!!!!), but the Doctor, knowing Mack’s weakness, removes a pill treat from the jar and used it to lure Mack into the back room (ROBOT VOICE: Ok. Doctor. I.WILL.GO.WITH.YOU)

The door shut and we heard the electric razor fire up, to shave the area. Husband and I, trying to be quiet for Mack’s sake,  could barely contain our laughter, “He’s going to be SO PISSED!!”. Mack returned a short while later with 2 metal stitches and a scowl. (Fuckers) which then evaporated once we gave him another treat. (I love you again, now) .

All in all, Mack did have a pretty rough morning at the vet, but he and the doctor made up before he left and Mackie got to unwind in the back of the SUV (I need a beer) and was back to being his normal level of pissed off by afternoon.

Side Note: Our vet is a wonderful and patient lady who has kept both of our guys healthy for years. I hope to God she doesn’t read this.

Categories: Dogs | Tags: , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Introduction: What you should know about Olde English Bulldoggs

Hola mis amigos !

Aaaaand that the extent of my Spanish.

Before I indulge you with stories of dog farts and folly, panty-eating and subsequent panty-pooping, I’m going to have to give you some background information on Olde English Bulldogges, to better help paint the poopy picture.

I own two Olde English Bulldogges AND YES THAT’S THE CORRECT SPELLING. This breed is not to be confused with English Bulldogs.

Centuries ago, bulldogs were breed for use in bull baiting. A bloody and needlessly violent sport, the bulldogs would use its large jaws to bite the bull’s nose and pin it to the ground. Back then, bulldogs were larger, stronger and received little to no Beggin Strips. Life was not a bowl of cherries for bulldogs. Here is a painting of bulldog from the 1700’s, totally stepping on what looks to be a penis:

 dog

Eventually, bull baiting was outlawed and the American Kennel Club was organized. This took the English bulldog in an entirely new direction, appearance wise. Over time, the bulldog became shorter, the snout became shorter, and the dog was not as strong as its new job consisted of laying around farting all day long. The breeding took a toll on the English Bulldog. This breed is plagued with joint problems, eye problems, allergies and breathing issues due to the short nasal passage way.

That’s when the Oldy came along. In the 1970’s breeders organized to start a healthier breed of bulldog that was supposed to bring the bulldog body back to what it originally was. This took breeding pit bulls, bull mastiffs and the American Bulldog to get the perfect trifecta.

Disclaimer: There are no absolutes and I’m not saying buy one breed over the other. Trends point to a larger incidence of health issues in English Bulldogs vs. Olde English. I’ve seen many, perfectly healthy English bulldogs and have seen Oldy’s with severe hip displaysia. Hell, Peterbilt has been through a few surgeries himself, where as his father Mackie, is just dandy. Although I’m understandably biased towards Oldys’, I’m a fan of any bull dog, boxer, pitbull, mastiff and other bully breed.

Oldy’s are taller/larger than English bulldogs but are smaller than bull mastiffs and American Bulldogs. Many people confuse Oldy’s for American Bulldogs.

This is a picture of my Mackie (Mack Truck):

mack

Mack is pretty representative of his breed. Although he’s on the slightly shorter side, his build and appearance are pretty standard. Oldy’s lazy demeanor makes them prone to being overweight. This picture is a few years old. At his heaviest (right after we neutered him in 2010) he weighed 101 lbs. However, we switched his to a Nuttro Lamb Diet Dog food and forced his fat ass to go on walks and he is now down to his ideal weight of 85 lbs, but we still affectionately call him Chubs. Our vet could not be more happy with us right now. Way to go Mackie!

Mackie gets bad hayfever in the fall, but allergies are common with any bulldog breed. Otherwise, he’s an ox.

Below is a picture of our other dog Peterbilt, Macks’s biological son:

pete

Peterbilt is taller than the standard, thanks to his mother. Mack would kill me for telling you this, but when my husband would drop Mack off at his “girlfriend’s house” for a few weeks, the owners of the female Oldy had to provide Mack a small step stool so he could bow-chicka-bow-wow. Otherwise he was throwing it to the wind.

Peterbilt gets mistaken for an American Bulldog all of the time. Occasionally, a misinformed yokel will think he’s a pitbull and shrink back in horror. There’s this teenager on our block that my husband has been totally messing with. This kid saw my husband and Pete on a walk about 1-2 years ago and nervously asked my husband if Peterbilt was a pitbull. My husband, who is as sick of Pitbull-bashing as I am, said “Why yes! Yes he is!”. The kid reportedly crossed to the other side of the street upon hearing his. I snickered when my husband told me about what he did that day but thought nothing more about it until months or years later when I was walking Pete.  I turned the corner to see two teenage boys. One boy grabbed his friend by the collar and dragged him to safety, his eyes wide with fear. After I was done laughing, I waved Hi to the boys, much to their bewilderment.

At age 4, he’s still got a lot of puppy in him, which is something I did not forsee when we got Peterbilt. This breed really takes about 3-4 years to fully mature. This dog has a LOT of energy and requires daily walks, 2-3 walks ideally.

This is also a dog that has had a bouquet of health issues. Petebilt has had surgery to correct cherry eye and a luxating patella, both of which are genetic defects. Peterbilt also hit the unlucky jack pot once again and tore his ACL by slipping off of an icy curb on a walk about 2 years ago. That was another surgery. Mack has never had any joint issues and neither his mother. This goes to show you that you even healthy dog parents can yield pups with problems. Peter also has had UTI’s, at least a dozen ear infections, skin rash issues and a food allergy we have not quite nailed down yet. Sometimes I want to sit down and come up with an estimate of how much $$ this dogs has cost us over the years, but then I would only think of all of things we could have bought with that money instead soooooo it’s best not to know.

Behavior-wise, bulldogs are very bull-headed. They know what they want and you can’t tell them otherwise! Like pitbulls, they are great family dogs and do well around children and babies because these dogs ARE giant babies. They are very loyal and will follow you around where ever you go. I sometimes hid to get a minute to myself. They love to be watchdogs and take that job seriously.

So now you have an overview. Stay tuned for my next posts which will give you more back stories on my two knucklehead. Adios!

Categories: Bulldogs, Dogs, Farts, Funny, Pets, Potty Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Happy Dog’s Bedtime Prayer

Found this tidbit yesterday. Totally describes sleeping with my bulldogs, except they left out the obscenities and the part about the rancid 3AM farts.

 

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Preface

Hello!

This is my very first blog post about life with my husband and two, male Olde English Bulldogges named Mack Truck (12 yrs) and Peterbilt (4 yrs). 

The inspiration for this blog came from an ongoing photo album on my Facebook page called The House That Bilt Ate. For any of you that are not familiar, I have been snapping and collecting photos of the various objects around the house that Peterbilt has eaten and/or destroyed over the last 3 years or so. To give you an overview, Peterbilt has savored and enjoyed the following items: multiple socks, a remote control, a deck of cards, an unbelievable number of left shoes (he specifically only eats left shoes for reasons we have not figured out yet) pillows, blankets, tax statements, junk mail, Tupperware, underwear, pajamas, his Gentle Leader and a squeegee, all in the name of separation anxiety. Every time we came home to a mangled piece of whatever, I’d snap a photo of it, caption it and post it, sometimes even snapping a photo of a guilt-ridden Peterbilt as an accompaniment. At times, we had multiple incidents a week and sometimes we’d go months without issue. However, what started as an outlet for our frustration ended up being a source of amusement and laughs for many of our friends and relatives. 

 

It wasn’t long after the House that Bilt Ate came to be that my husband and I started noticing that anytime we’d run in to someone we hadn’t seen for a while, or if we would attend a family function, or wedding, or what not, the first thing people would say to us is “DUDE! Your dog!”, and then tell us about their favorite photo and the laughs that ensued. People were sharing the pictures with their kids and other relatives, even! “Hey! How are you! Has Peterbilt eaten anything lately?” was and still is pretty common. 

 

I figured if people got such a kick out of the little snippets and pictures posted at random, maybe they’d find the stories that go on in between just a funny. That, and we’ve made several adjustments around the house over the years to curb Peterbilt’s appetite for destruction, so are picture posts are becoming less and less frequent. Pictures are funny to look back on and all but replacing my husband’s $200 work boots for the third time, really, really sucks.

 

So here we are! Stay tuned for stories and pictures!

Categories: Dogs | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment

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