Wednesday, September 22, 2010

What We Should Have Named Harley & Quincy

First of all - I have a new follower!!! How exciting!

Second of all - I am happy to report that I found a "Stats" section on the Blogger dashboard that I didn't even know was there. And so I know I have a few more followers even if you aren't all "official like". So thanks!

Third of all - what was that third thing? Oh well. If I think of it, I'll interrupt today's post to tell you.

Oh wait - I know what third of all was. I finally bought vacuum bags. Now I just need to wade through the mountain of Quincy hair to get to the closet where we keep the vacuum. Sheesh!

Speaking of Quincy, I was walking him around the neighborhood this morning and I got to thinking of what we should have named him. And I also was thinking about my firstborn - Harley - and what we should have named him. And I thought. Hmmmmmm. That could make a fun post.

Harley, for those of you who don't know, was our Jack Russell Terrier that we owned for ten and half lovely, but too short years. We actually had our own breed name for him. He was a Jack Russell Terror. He was lucky he didn't get killed by our hands for the first two years or so. But once we made it through those years, he was actually an awesome dog.

However, we didn't choose the right name for him. In retrospect, Harley could have been called two other names.

First, he could have been called Hoover. He constantly had his head down and would eat anything that came across his path. It was pathetic. He definitely had a nose for finding all kinds of things to eat. Mostly stuff he shouldn't have. The worst thing he ever found was a disposable razor in the shower. Twice. He did it twice. Luckily, we found him very quickly. So if you want to know and are brave enough to do this and not take your pet to the animal hospital, take a piece of soft white bread (i.e. Wonder Bread) and tear it into bits. Have them eat it and wait a few minutes. Then make them throw up. Voila. The razor comes up with the bread. (disclaimer - if you do this and your pet gets hurt worse, I am not a vet and you should always call your vet instead of reading blogs to find out what to do in cases like this.)

He also once at a wolf spider. Luckily I watched him do it and as soon as he started acting funny, I figured he had been poisoned. I took him to the vet. They gave him anti-venom. His head swelled up and by the time we came to get him, just his nose was swollen. We called him W.C. Fields for a few days till the swelling went down.

He also ate a rope toy. And almost $2,000 later, we got to bring him home from the vet. Needless to say, he was one expensive JRT.

The other name we could have given him was Licky. He licked. Everything. He licked his paws. He licked our faces. He licked other really gross parts and then tried to lick our faces. We drew the line there. He licked walls, chairs, floors, arms, legs, books, beds. The list is endless. I never could figure out why he did that. It's one of the few things I don't miss about Harley. Because Harley was an awesome pup.

Quincy could also be Hoover of the Outdoors. He eats everything from sticks, to acorns, to dirt, to the lining in Jamey's rock wall and underneath the mulch, to bugs, to rocks. And then on more than one occasion, we get to see it again. In the kitchen. In great big dark piles of yuck that he has kindly regurgitated. Nice.

And lastly, we could have named Quincy Humpy Humperton. Need you ask? He loves his bed. No, no. You read that wrong. He loves his bed. That's a verb. An action if you will. Again, nice.

That said though, we'll keep him. Joshua really loves him. And he is about the most laid back, chilled dog I have ever seen. Perfect for us. But I wish we could interview them before we choose the names. Because if it were acceptable, I would have named Quincy, Humpy instead.

Sigh. Vacuuming up a bazillion pounds of Qball hair now. Fun times.

1 comment:

  1. Yep, I have seen Quincy do the humpy with my own eyes. On my own precious yellow lab, Sugar. At least Quincy has good taste.
    As for weirdo dogs I truly feel that Will's old dog, Cosmo, takes the proverbial cake.
    First, he was declared by our vets to be one of the top five worse dogs they have treated in thirty years. Perhaps they judged him based on his:
    ocd-- licked his skin off his arms
    epileptic seizures-- a true sight to behold
    he was gay; we witnessed it; very strange
    three legs: he threw himself into car path's, some kind of death wish issue; actually we kept his fourth leg on him after the unfortunate car issue, but it withered up and atrophied. it was going to be 500 bucks to chop that sucker off. constant face fungus; oh, did i mention he was a pug? and, did i mention the brain issue? we think when he was hit by the car there was so much damage..... well, he was never quite "right" if you know what i mean.
    and, then, the anal glands which had to be removed, the tennis ball he ate, the bone that was stuck sideways in his throat which had to be surgically removed, and the eyes that could pop out.
    do i win the prize?


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