It’s Tortilla Time| Hi I’m Tori and this is my Story

Seamus is especially gassy today. He currently lays at my feet, and I am doing what I can to prevent suffocating from the putrid stench.

Who knew that such a sweet faced animal could produce such a vile odour?

My legs are all scratched up, courtesy of the dense one. Note to self: it may be time for a nail trim.

My friend and I took Seamus and Rocky to the park today, and had as much fun as expected. Seamus and Rocky have formed some sort of deep, meaningful bond, and are damn-near inseparable. I can almost sense the shock that conquers Seamus each time he catches sight of his good friend Rocky, as Rocky has now grown to well over twice the size of Seamus. Seamus is now forced to stand on his hind legs to look his pal in the eyes. It must suck.

The dense one can make me so mad that I wish to rip out every last strand of my hair off my head, and at times such these I exhale gently and remember what a sweet, loving dog he is capable of being. The kind of dog that he was today. I love him.

If Marley is so deserving of a book and movie, shouldn’t Seamus be?

… think of Seamus.

Seamus may not be a perfect dog, but dammit he is mine and I love him for it.

As I sat and ate my cereal this fine morning, Seamus suddenly appeared on the couch next to me. He inched closer and closer to the bowl, hoping, PRAYING that for some absurd reason I’d grant him permission to consume the remnants of my breakfast. I shot him a disapproving look and Seamus, sensing my aggravated aura, backed off instantaneously.

I continued feasting on my Special K cereal, Seamus glaring at me with a look of immense resentment. Oh Seamus, I thought amidst his envy, there is a reason I am the master and you are the beast. I am capable of thinking for myself and vocalizing my thoughts and desires. You just sit there and stare blankly whilst I consume my scrumptious human food. Later you will probably lick your own butt.

I chuckled to myself and continued shovelling cereal in my mouth.

It wasn’t two minutes later that Seamus began growling at an object directly behind me.
What is it, boy? I asked, as he grew increasingly distressed. He began baring his teeth, a deed done only when he feels his life is in peril. Thinking that there was possibly some sort of intruder in my home, I quickly turned around to investigate. I studied the area, but could find no indication of any sort of plausible reason for Seamus to growl.

As I turned back I noticed Seamus’ head submerged in my cereal, taking this opportunity to consume as much of it as humanly possible. He looked guilty, but had a look of genuine satisfaction smeared across his smug face. I had been had. The beast had outsmarted his master.

Okay Seamus, you win, I muttered in defeat. I couldn’t even find it in myself to be mad at him.

Yesterday I thought that I would take Seamus to the park directly up the street from my house. After all, I rarely visit this park and it was an absolutely gorgeous day. I attempted to recollect the last time I took Seamus to this particular park, but found myself unable to do so. This must have been some sort of crime against humanity, for it is a decent park and ridiculously close to my home.

As I strolled up street, Seamus bopping along at my side, I pondered why my frequent visits to this park had come to an abrupt halt. It is a nice park, there is a respectable playground, and many of my childhood memories took place there.

I shrugged off my cogitations and carried on my short trek to the park.

As soon as we arrived, I scoped out a spot in the beautiful sunshine to mellow shortly. I tossed Seamus a stick, and he eagerly retrieved it and returned it to me. We worked on his basic commands, furthering his fluency of simple tricks.

It was not long, however, before our training session was rudely interrupted. A man, visibly intoxicated, stumbled toward Seamus and I. I backed up cautiously, and then noticed that he had begun to urinate in the middle of the sidewalk. He stared directly at us, and I quickly scooped up Seamus and took refuge behind a young family enjoying a day at the park. I glimpsed over at the drunk man to see what he was doing, and saw him quickly collapse on the sidewalk. Holy shit, I said aloud, shaken.

A few moments later the man rose to his feet and continued on staggering the other way. I looked at Seamus, and then at the man, and quickly remembered why I had stopped visiting this park.

The fact that Seamus can be seen as a mentor and role model to a young puppy is rather disconcerting. My friend recently acquired an Australian Shepherd puppy and wished to socialize him with friendly older dogs. I decided against bringing The Clever One, as she is now in her golden years and would probably be less than enthused about the asperity of being in the presence of a young puppy. Seamus possesses no such convictions.

In fact, I believe that Seamus greatly enjoyed having a fresh young puppy to mold into his own. He was probably sharing his pearls of wisdom, such as shedding on black clothes is much more satisfying, and when in doubt, pee on ANYTHING.

Meet Rocky, a pleasant 10 week old Aussie.

Seamus was initially unsure of what to make of this squirmy bundle of fur.

Seamus became quite attached to him rather quickly.

It wasn’t long before a third dog was added to the mix.

Seamus soon realized that chubby dogs lack an athletic ability.

He met new friends.

He constantly annoyed a much larger dog.

But it wasn’t long until she snapped.

Seamus’ alarmed expression post-snap.

OH SHIT.

Rocky was next to learn not to vex Jessie.

TURBO DOG.

Seamus soon morphed into a mother hen.

What an endearing ball of fluff.

Cam and Seamus.

They attempt to keep me out of trouble.

Cam thinks that his efforts go unacknowledged.

He looks strangely Asian in this picture.

For my dear friend Yoon.