Two weeks ago, I adopted a rescued Great Dane named George. I knew he’d be big, but you really can’t comprehend how big, until he’s nosing around on top of the fridge or settled in for the night in your bed.
There is also a considerable amount of saliva.
Long, stringy, mesmerizing loogies that dangle precariously at varying heights from his excessively long grumpy-cat lips.
It pools on the floor in unobvious places that are only detectable by bare feet. It is also, seemingly, evaporation-resistant. It will stay there for days, still as wet and slimy as the day it was deposited. Although, this same saliva crystalizes on countertops, tables, shoes, skin… and the TV.
I had this romantic notion that Great Danes were gentle giants who did everything in slow motion with undying love and affection in their eyes. George is clumsy, believes “whoa” means “go faster”, and has not a care in the world to the frailty of my old bones as he drags me down a forest trail hill clocking 12 miles an hour. [Note to self: Let go of the leash.]
Two walks a day, morning and night, whether I want to or not. 2 miles of pushing, pulling, tugging, and plenty of “NO!” “Stop that!” “Get your head out of there” and of course the largely misunderstood “WHOA!”
Who needs a gym membership? My arms are so sore I can no longer lift a slice of bread to my mouth. My hips have rotated out of their sockets from windmilling downhill faster than any human ever should. My back is a twisted, knotted mess from curling into a ball to sleep on the top right corner of my pillow, which is my current nightly allotment.
And it’s not free exercise either. Much like a gym membership, there are dues to pay. A Great Dane eats a lot. I mean.. A LOT.
Then there’s the poop. Two shopping bags full. Not the sweet little black poopy bags you see other dog owners discharging from their pet utility belts like some dog-walking ninjas. Oh no, I’m talkin’ large, awkward plastic grocery bags. You know the kind your fingernails can inadvertently punch a hole through? Yeah, those.
And don’t even get me started on the eye boogers.
4 responses to “Curious George is my new Gym membership”
Lol that’s too funny. I had a lab mix that could drag me around the block and he could slobber like nothing I ever saw. But what a cool old beast he was !
Awww yeah, here’s to the cool old beasts. 🙂
I can totally sympathize. We adopted a rescue bloodhound about 8 months ago. Elvis is now 135 pounds of drool and love.
They’re perfect, right? 🙂