Maybe It's All in the Name

So I wrote my Ode to Doodle a few days ago. This one…this one isn’t that one. You see, this family has a 2nd dog. We agreed to take in our niece’s boxer when she couldn’t keep him. When I heard she was looking for a new home for the dog, I asked if we could have him because I knew it would thrill my husband & I thought I’d like the 2-dog experience. My husband was overjoyed. He grew up with a boxer & has often cited it as his favorite breed.

I knew very little about them.

So my mother in law delivers him one afternoon, only she failed to tell me she was delivering him that afternoon. I answer the door & there she is with the dog. He starts to come in to check me out & Doodle sees him & attacks. Seriously, how dare this creature enter her turf before a good sniffdown? Doodle actually likes other dogs, for the most part, but they have to be introduced properly. She’s actually quite a social canine. So my mother in law backs out the door with the boxer & tends to his wounds. She puts him back in the car. I suggest we re-introduce the dogs on neutral territory, so she drives down to the corner & waits while we leash Doodle for a walk. Upon meeting again, the 2 dogs do the ritual that dogs do when meeting & the boxer is clearly submissive. (She’d already drawn blood!) We have a nice stroll around the block, trying to come up with names for him. He came as Cody & but I’ve always heard you are supposed to change their name when you adopt them.

Boxers are good German engineering, er, breeding, so we thought it should be something strong. It’s a male, so nothing too ambiguous would do. I thought “Ace” was cool. We tried that out. Turns out, the dog is no Ace, so we scrap that idea. My husband is a Yankees fan, so it was suggested we call him Yankee so our 2 dogs would be Yankee & Doodle. Do I need to sing for you? But my husband didn’t like that. He’s trying out all sorts of crazy monikers. Senor Sanchez, for instance. I complained, he’s not a Spanish dog! Then he called him Superdog. Professor Awesome. Dawson from Awesomeville. He vetoed Fritz, Franz, Jurg, & all the German names I suggested. Mr. Sprinkles. Dr. Sparkles. I wondered why we didn’t just call him Wuss or Pansy. You see, Doodle kicked his butt (playfully) at least once a day, sometimes thrice, & she is 8 years older than him. I was under the impression boxers were supposed to be tough. They’re bear-hunters! So after a week, maybe even longer, my husband says, I know, he’s Gary! I’d been calling him Buster, but Gary did seem to stick.

As we all adapted to a 2nd dog, I learned some things about boxers I hadn’t known. They smell. Whew!! The dog has gas that could peel paint. That was the 1st & fastest lesson learned. I’ve since researched & found that all dogs with the smashed faces are flatulent. They swallow a lot of air due to the way their noses are shaped. EeeewwwwW! Not only does he have gas, he has the worst gas. It’s not like any of it is pleasant, but there’s certainly higher degrees of disgusting. I’ve woken from my sleep looking for a steaming pile because of this dog’s gas. (Doodle is such a lady-She’s never awakened me with the scent of burning, decaying feces.)

The 2nd thing I learned was that it isn’t just his gas that smells. The dog actually has body odor. I’ve heard of some hounds & water dogs carrying a scent or getting dirty because they have more oils in their coat, but I did not know this about boxers. Frequent baths are required.

And whether this is just Gary or whether all boxers do this, I don’t know, but he drips. Ick. It’s nasty! His eyes run. Sometimes his nose runs. Our niece said he has allergies, but other than the constant ooze, he seems unbothered, so we do nothing. Well, I cringe a little bit.

The dog knows he belongs to my husband. He’s pretty dumb, far as I can tell, but he figured that out. Generally Gary is a well behaved dog. He comes when he’s called. He sits, shakes, lies down when commanded. But he doesn’t seem to speak English. I mean, I talk to my dogs & this is the 1st dog that doesn’t get it. My husband says he wants a dog to play with, not hold a conversation. That’s all well & good, but I want the dog to learn that when I’m walking, he needs to get out of the way, not let me walk into him. I’ve never had a dog that stood like a brick wall in place as I was moving along & would let me kick* him. I never told any of my other dogs to move, but Shadow, Winston & Doodle were all smart dogs. That can’t be said for Gary.

I googled dog intelligence. Just so you know, boxers are #48 on the list- that’s at the low end of what they are calling average for dogs. (Side note- Shadow was ½ Border Collie #1 & ½ German Shepherd #3. Winston was ½ Cocker Spaniel #20 & ½ West Highland Terrier #47, clearly he took after the Cocker…. & Doodle, well, we really don’t know what Doodle is but veterinary ‘best guess’ believes she has Labrador Retriever #7, German Shepherd #3, & then it is generally impossible to determine….she’s a true mixing of breeds….which could be Darwinism in her favor!) But as Forrest Gump says, “Stupid is as Stupid does” & that Gary, he is. While it’s clear that he is a purebred boxer, he was a stray. There are no papers on him. Maybe he was inbred. He was dumb enough to get lost. We have no idea how long he was fending for himself. Our niece found him dirty & emaciated, covered in bites, ticks & burrs. Maybe malnutrition gave him brain damage. I suspect he may be retarded.** My husband says no, but I’m keeping that theory active.

I also tease that the dog is gay.*** He gazes with pure adoration at my husband from across the room. He cuddles with him to watch TV. My husband says he’s not. I don’t buy it. I’ve seen that look. He’s clearly gay. And retarded. He’s a Gay Retard, I mock relentlessly. My husband asks me how is Gary’s following him around or staring at him any different from Doodle doing the same with me. If he’s gay, then she’s a lesbian, he claims. No. That theory is all wrong. You see, Doodle doesn’t want me, she just loves me. She looks at me like I am her mommy. Gary, conversely, looks at my husband like he’s in love with him. There’s something totally different about it! LoL! My husband denies it, but I think I’ve discovered the truth.

You tell me: though my husband refuses to confirm it, I know he suspects I am right. He added Tard to the name… so the dog is now Gary Tard.

*I do not, nor have I ever, kicked or harmed a dog or any other animal in this lifetime. It's more like I tripped over him because he wasn't bright enough to get out of the way.

**I don’t harbor any ill-feelings toward the mentally challenged.

***I am not a homophobe. I’m a pretty liberal chick. Whatever floats your boat.