Socks

by Steve on September 17, 2010

Moose Socks

Houlton, our neurotic black lab mix, has had house priveleges while his stitches heal from a growth removal. You can imagine the problems this has caused at the door trying to cull one from three as they all attempt to break in. Moose has been accused of playing his own medical problems for a spot on the couch to recouperate. His condition is anything but serious – some calouses that have become swollen and raw from a combination of suspected food allergies and stress. So we begin the nonsense that is dog blogging around these parts:

Moose: “Dig my new gaiters, man!”

Boss: “Headed to the track or jazzersize?”

Moose: “You’re old, dude. Nobody will remember what jazzersize is except your fraternity brothers.”

Boss: “Seriously, tell me you didn’t just cost me $70 in meds because you’re stressed!”

Moose: “If you prefer you could send me out to Crested Butte for a visit to the canine chiropractor you were telling me about. Get me out of this heat for a while.”

Boss: “So this is a shakedown for some spa time? For a minute I thought you had lost your mind and took on Mr. Ed’s persona.”

Moose: “Aging yourself again there big man. Hey, I heard they had monkeys riding dogs at the state fair a few weeks back! That gig still available since I’m dressed for it?”

Boss: “All that training for retrieving and you want to go redneck on me?”

Moose: “Would you prefer we call it ‘simians saddling canines’? I’m telling you it could be fun! No way that little bugger could hang on for more than a few seconds. Be more like bull riding!”

Boss: “With those long ears of yours for handles I’m thinking that monkey would stick like a tick.”

Moose: “Good point… What time is my morning foot bath?”

Boss: “No way.”

Moose: “You heard the nice vet – she said I need to soak ’em!”

Boss: “She said it was optional, don’t push it.”

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