Tag Archives: English Bulldog
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He’s So Handsome!

21 Jul

Hubby bought a Bushnell binocular over the weekend. He felt it was a practical buy as we could use it to watch our favorite pro golfers, up close, whenever these players are in town for their LPGA or PGA tours.

But we played with it over the weekend, watching our pets up close instead. Happy and Herbie, the tortoises, were let loose in the garden and we used the binocular to observe them. So cool to view them so magnified and see their expressions.

Then I used it on Rooney, official pet number one. Up close, my Roo looked stunning; with his fierce look and folds, it really took my breath away!

He is indeed handsome. Amazing what a binocular can do to make one see their pets differently. It’s very different looking at him with the device compared to an up close face-to-face as details are zoomed in, becoming more pronounced and thus, the appreciation for his dogginess heightened.

I guess I will put it to good use on the pets for now.

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My Fat Little Pig

24 Jan

It’s been raining a lot these days and as such, Rooney, official pet number one, has not been exercising much. Either that or he’s been snacking too much. Looking rather pudgy than a studly dog, hubby is appalled how fat he has become. This reminded me of when we first brought him home and he was mistaken for a little pig!

He was a beautiful little yellow ochre, curly stubby-tailed puppy at seven weeks old when we adopted him from the pet shop. Coming from a champion line, we were so proud of our latest addition to the family then. One day, we brought him out for a walk and the part-time maid across from our house, from the balcony above, saw him.

“What’s that? Is that a pig or a dog?” the curious maid hollered loudly, obviously having never seen an English bulldog breed before.

He may be yellow ochre in color with a curly stubby tail but the pooch ain’t no pig although he may have or could have looked like one from afar with his color and short legs. Or it could be his trot or the floppy ears that had him resembling a little pig. I was too amused to be insulted.

Well, six years has gone by and my fat little pig then has grown up to be a fat big pig now!

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Mummy’s Boy

24 Oct

Every evening, the routine is typical. We come home, we eat dinner and the Roo, official pet number one, looking in from the external wet kitchen, barks to get attention. This can be quite annoying and especially so when the day at the office was a brain-sapping one.

Rooney is not allowed in the house because his drool is just to gross for us to deal with when it drips onto the marble floor. But we play with him in the garden. Occasionally, curiosity gets the better of him and he would saunter into the house to wander into the dining room, dry kitchen and the courtyard just to appease his wonder of the house. Most times, he pretends not to see us, thinking if he does not see us, we will not see him and he won’t be caught!

There was one evening M2 brought him back to the external wet kitchen after playing in the garden and he went back grudgingly. Feeling unsatisfied, he came back out to the garden again and made a ruckus insisting it has to be Mummy—me—to lead him back and that M2 bringing him back doesn’t count.

M1 shot him a disgusted look and muttered “Hrmph. What a brat! Being Mummy’s boy.”

Come to think of it, if hubby attempts, he wouldn’t even budge, what more the girls. So indeed, he’s being Mummy’s boy, a bratty one though.

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I’m not looking at you so you can’t see me!

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It Has to Be All Orange

19 Sep

The weekend that passed was such a busy one that I felt guilty neglecting Rooney, official pet number one, also affectionately called ‘Roo’. So much so, when I went to the mall with M2 (M1 had friends over to work on a school project), we decided to buy him a toy and some snacks. M2 called it cereal, not snacks, for it had oats and a whole bunch of supposedly healthy stuff for the skin.

As for the toy, it was with much debate whether to get him another orange colored one or not, for he fancies this color. Or we theorized he fancies this color. After much discussion, we opted for a sheep with beige limbs and face, and some orange color here and there, with the ratio of the orange lesser. We thought we’d challenge the theory that perhaps it does not have to be an all orange toy to perk his playful mood.

That night, the sheep was thrown into the lion’s lair and soon, plenty of shuffling, grunting and action sound. In less than 15 minutes, the poor sheep was gutted! All the stuffing came out and it laid lifeless on the floor.

The poor sheep

The poor sheep

And the Roo? He laid there too, lifeless and sad, staring at his torn new toy. He looked like he was either worn out from the sudden exciting playtime or he was feeling guilty he mutilated the poor sheep so quickly that he cannot play with it anymore. We suspect it was the latter emotion running through him. That night he went to sleep very quickly!

But if I were to give the sheep another lease on life to extend its usefulness, as in putting the guts back and sewing it up, the appeal may be different. Like the cat toy I got him a while back, it was gutted too (like the sheep) and was sewn up to extend its life but totally neglected right after the operation. So hopefully leaving the sheep as it is for now with three hanging limbs (one limb got ripped out), it may still have its appeal.

The appeal was there alright but ultimately it cost the death of the already half dead sheep. In less than 48 hours since the first contact, the poor sheep was decapitated last night! Oh boy.

What's left of the sheep, now looking foreign, like a new toy!

What’s left of the sheep, now looking foreign, like a new toy!

Does this mean he loved the sheep so much or that he couldn’t stand the color combination ratio that only death will do it justice? I can’t imagine the outcome if the color ratio had more orange. The life was sucked right out of Roo too after the violent act; he sat lifeless and looking forlorn again. I had to coax him with several snacks to lift his spirits up.

Looks like we have to get him another toy soon. And it has to be orange, all over. Anything less than half in the color ratio will just result in the death of it in no time at all.

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poop! Poop! POOP!

23 Aug

Official pet number one, Rooney, is one quirky bulldog. Must be the English in him or being with us, the Asian in him.

Whenever he comes out to the garden to play and suddenly does his thing, he would bark like crazy as if telling us, “Poop! Poop! I pooped!!!” and would run scared shit (pun intended) maniacally.

If we choose to ignore him even for a little while, taking our time to get the paper and scooper to clean up after him, he would not have it any other way but to hurry us, “Poop! Poop! Go scoop!” He would go on barking relentlessly and sometimes the bark pitch turns into a scream. “Poop! Poop! I pooped!!!” “I pooped! Pooped! POOPED!!!”

It seems like he likes his mess to be cleaned up immediately, not afterwards in 5 minutes, 2 minutes or even a minute but IMMEDIATELY. Geez, it’s only poop and not like an air-borne toxic pile of radioactive compose or something…

Are all dogs or just bulldogs like this in nature? Or is it just him? I wonder…

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Can Dogs See Color?

18 Jul

This is about official pet number one, Rooney. We think he likes the color orange or rather, he only sees the color orange.

Why I say this because the toys that we get him can range from many colors but the orange colored ones last the longest playtime. A replacement frisbee for the orange one—in the same shape and size but in green—did not even warrant a day’s play. A blue & white bone hardly gnawed to the core while anything orange lasts so long!

When we discovered his preference for the color and not the object, both M1 and M2 would be mindful to select an orange colored toy for him whenever we visit the pet shop.

His recent orange & yellow chicken was chewed till the guts came out. Then the cat, which was a darker shade of orange, lasted less than the chicken. I surgically gave the cat another live but since then, with its orange shade turning brownish, the reincarnated cat has been neglected.

Currently, he’s just all over his basketball. At the right bright shade of orange, we all agreed that he only sees the color orange.

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Bury the Bee, Part 2

8 Jul

It is now evident that the colony of bees have been disturbed. More came our way last week after the first incident, invading the kitchen and the girls’ bedroom.

I had an SOS call from M2 reporting this and more. “Mummy! They are everywhere! Rooney’s in his cage and fine but… OMG! One’s on my bed, like a zombie, writhing away!”

“Zombie? Or more like zombie bee?” I couldn’t help myself.

“Zombie, zom-bee, zombie-nee, whatever! Hurry home please,” she urged in between muffled laughter.

So we came home from work to stories of the bees’ invasion and both having to shower in my bathroom instead. We were to have a mass burial last Wednesday night, for the scattered little bodies here and there (in their attempt to fly out to freedom) but homework got in the way.

And for the past few nights, circumstances were not favorable, burial plans were dashed yet again. And last I checked, the maid just simply got rid of all of them. So the pet cemetery is left intact without a crowd arising from this latest little unfortunate aftermath.

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It’s Not Fair

7 Jul

When official pet number one, Rooney, was a puppy, both girls complained that he was getting more toys and things than them.

We were often queried, “How come he gets something every week?! Every week!!! What about us? We have needs too you know. It’s not fair.”

 Well, sometimes life can be unfair…

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Ooh! Can I Have It As A Pet?

16 Jun

We have a lovely home and enough space for a pet, or two or three or four…. Official pet number one is our adorable English bulldog, Rooney Wayne or just plain Roo.

Official pet number two of the home is the regal arowana fish called Meow-Meow. Meow-Meow?! That’s another story all by itself. Then there is the pondful of fishes of various species. Not forgetting the two turtles and two tortoises, all official status of course.

All pets, official or otherwise, have names. All of them, yes; even the fishes in the pond, every single one of them. But to make things easy for identification, M2 christened the whole school, Bob. Clever, ain’t she?

Now, the pets are labelled official simply because daddy takes care of them. M1, M2 and myself just give moral support and enjoy them.

The urge to mother and care for a pet sometimes would strike M2. Whenever the hubby buys some live frogs or shrimps for Meow-Meow as food, M2 would ask, “Ooh! Can I have one as a pet?” Yes, even a shrimp can be a pet.

But as she is a school-going, homework-laden child, caring for these pets can be tedious and their well-being neglected. So, often there will be expected deaths and burials subsequently.

There was a time we thought maybe something more substantial, to instill responsibility and a sense of ownership in M2. So for one of her earlier birthdays, we got her hermit crabs, and revived the old crabarium that used to house M1’s crabs before.

It worked out well for awhile but them hermies are a notorious bunch, partying every night and wrecking their abode like a tornado came through or something. We started with four but within a month or two, the population halved. By 6 months, the last survivor eventually died of loneliness and old age.

The crabarium has been back in the storeroom ever since.

M2 is not disheartened even when her last pet fighting fish went to pet heaven due to over feeding. Once, she tried to champion for a hamster but we fear the play thing may elevate to official status. In other words, daddy will end up taking care of it. So no can do.

In the end, she found a clever solution to having a pet of her own and with no deaths to endure. Pancake is now the happiest (conifer tree) pet—in a pot—sitting at the front of the house. With daily greetings, petting and attention whenever she goes in and out, it’s a great solution to M2 having a pet that doesn’t need feeding, just love.Image

 

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