shit dogs do {shit my dogs do}

first off, I would like to say that it would've been so clever of me to jump on the "shit ___ say" bandwagon with this post (albeit a little late, like three years late or something), but unfortunately dogs don't say, they do. But of course, since I am a crazy, crazy dog lady (think cat lady, but a cat lady that prefers cats with wagging tails, because that way you just know that it can't secretly be mad at you), I just had to write a post about the bizarre things that have happened with the hundred or so dogs I've had (just kidding; at last count, I've had eight dogs throughout my lifetime, I think, and five at the same time. Five! That was cray cray. But I promise I ain't no animal hoarder).

first, there was Korrelon, which is roughly translated into "one who runs fast," but spelled incorrectly, with a "k" instead of a "c" (like Khloe Kardashian, for example). This is when I was in Costa Rica, and my Spanish was the best it has ever been. My sister and I are real trendsetters in the dog naming field (there is a "Justin Bobby" to come, like from The Hills). Korrelon was bitten by poisonous snakes twice, ran over by a car, kicked by a cow (Costa Rica, remember?), tangled on electric wire, and attacked by a dog that I am still convinced was really a wolf (the bite was so deep that the vet had to sew his muscle back together). But my favorite memory with Korrelon?

He humped the other dogs all day long. This was, of course, before my sister and I knew what sex was, human, canine, or otherwise, so we would burst into fits of hysterical laughter and exclaim in between short breaths, "Korrelon plays so funny!"

He played funny, indeed. He played so funny that he got like ten other dogs pregnant (no one ever neuters dogs in Costa Rica). I wonder what half dalmatians*, half mutts look like?

*of course he was a dalmatian, since we bought him at the time when Cruella DeVille was all the (infamous) rage.

then there was Joyita, one of Korrelon's many daughters, which we kept. Joyita means "little jewel," which is a really dumb name, wouldn't you agree?

there is not much to say about Joyita, though. She was a straight up bitch. I've never liked female dogs since.

Joyita and Korrelon did the nasty (geez, was Korrelon like a frat boy douchelord or what!?), and Snoopy was born (the first normal name of the bunch, however generic). Just as medical history predicted (or so I've heard, since I don't know squat about medical history), Snoopy was a little...no a lot...slow. I mean, slow doesn't even cut it. He was nothing short of a moron. And also, he looked like a bulldog a little bit, which makes me wonder if Joyita was, you know, making friends behind Korrelon's back (is this really surprising, though? Her father was getting intimate with her; it is no wonder that her escape was to become a slut).

And Snoopy? As I said, the kid (or dog, whatever) was real, real dumb. Like, other dogs would be trying to fight him and he would just sit there wagging his tail until they were done eating his flesh or something.

You want to hear something funny, though? Snoopy's vet would swear on his life that his name was actually "Goofy." Um, no it wasn't.

Nala was a beautiful, yet completely deranged, golden retriever. Her original owner couldn't handle her, so my sister begged and begged until we adopted her. Truth be told, I didn't want her. She was psycho. Psycho, I tell you. Kind of like an awkward, clumsy mammoth that did not understand his own strength (sorry, I had to bring mammoths into the conversation. I always forget what "furry elephants" were called, but now it is here, recorded for prosperity).

Eventually, we couldn't deal with her either.

The people that lived upstairs at our apartment building had an award-winning husky, so I got it in my head that I just had to get one. As luck would have it, my fourth grade substitute teacher was selling husky puppies, so I went over to her place one weekend to check them out. I set my mind on one particular puppy, and my dad and I went to the bank so that we'd have the money to pay for it.

By the time we got back, someone else had already bought it and taken him home. I cried for days. Finally, my dad took pity on me and set out to find baby huskies for sale (in Costa Rica! In that heat!). Eventually, he found one. We named him Nevito, which means "little snow" (there we go with those fabulous names again).

The most bizarre thing about Nevito? My mother actually liked him. I try not to hold that against him, may he rest in peace.

One by one, the dogs died off (sorry, how morbid), mostly due to snake bites. In early 2010, we got a Yorkie, Justin Bobby (not Justin Beiber. Justin Bobby from The Hills. This Justin Bobby. I believe this has been our most brilliant dog naming decision yet).

What bizarre thing does Justin Bobby do? Many a thing, that's what. But my favorite? Acting like a kangaroo. I mean, he jumps just like a kangaroo when he wants our attention (not that I've ever seen a kangaroo or anything). I wish I had a video to upload. It's hysterical.

Then, my boyfriend and I had another husky, Mikos, for a while. I don't feel right making fun of him since he died a very sad tragic young death due to a genetic disease. But I will say this: Mikos is hands down the smartest dog I've ever had, amen.

And that brings us to Simba. He is quite the strange little man, that one (also, before I changed his name to "Simba," his name was "Little Man Charger." Like what is that? I guess it's not just my sister and I that suck at dog names). There's the obsession with playing with tape, even though it hurts him when I have to rip it off his fur. Or his refusal to sleep anywhere other than on my head.

Or the way that he makes out with my finger when I give him a little peanut butter (a boy after his mama's heart, I see).