Yes, this is a real dog. It scared the bejeezus out of me when it came lumbering up, cave-bear-like at Lisa's birthday party.
Turns out he's a big softie, supposedly as loveable as a teddy bear.
But he weighs 180 lbs, and as a general rule I try to avoid any dog that can kill you by accidentally rolling over on you. Drowning is another possible hazard, as he constantly produces waves of gooey saliva.
And I'll leave you with one last thought if you still want a Newfoundland for yourself: can you imagine potty training a thing like this?
4 comments:
As it happens, I CAN imagine potty training something like that. I did it twice.
The first one took a little while, but he was my first puppy and I had some lessons to learn.
The second one had a grand total of two, (count 'em), accidents in the house before he figured the whole potty training thing out. At 9 weeks old. He's been using the potty bells on the doorknob ever since. Smart little fluffball.
And neither of them, EVER, pooped in the house. Not once. Not even when Nanook had giardia and I'm not going to get into what that was like for him but you take it from me, if ever he had a "crap in the house free card" it was then. He didn't use it.
Feel free to stop by the blogs and take a gander at 'em. The boys are sending you some drool, with affection.
~Nessa (who owns two things like that)
Nessa, thanks for your comment! Of course you know this was all light-hearted jest. I have nothing against Newfoundlands, or any other dog for that matter. Ok, maybe toy poodles. They are not real dogs :)
(Now I can sit back and wait for the poodle-owners reply...)
I checked out your blog...your dogs are beautiful, and not at all bear-like.
No worries! I could tell you were writing in fun. I write in fun quite frequently, so I recognized the style. *laughing*
I get the potty training comment from casual observers frequently so it's possible you touched a nerve, (along with the requisite: "where's the saddle for that thing?" "Did you ride that here?" "Who's walking who?" "They gave you a license to keep those bears?" "How much does that thing EAT?" and my personal favorite, "Oh is that a Burmese Mountain Dog?" to which I must reply: "No. Nor is a Bernese Mountain Dog. Or a St. Bernard. It's not even a Newfinnland."
I see your Toy Poodle, and I raise you a Pomeranian. Those are not dogs. They're more like yippy cats.
When people walking small dogs see us, they open their mouths to say something along the lines of "Holy cow that dog is HUGE..." and I always beat them to the punch by saying, in my very best Paul Hogan impression, "You call THAT a dog, mate? Now THIS is a dog..."
And the most brilliant contribution comes from new parents, who pull me aside to ask me in a stage whisper how I can stand the drool. *shrug* I point to their offspring and say, "How do you? At least he doesn't throw up on me also, and so far I don't have to change diapers..."
(Now I can sit back and wait for the outraged parents to reply to me...)
As someone with young kids, I can definitely agree that work load and messiness are not proportional to size. In fact, they might be inversely proportional to size.
By the way, the Yippy Cat Society has taken offense to your comparison of their beloved pets to a mere Pomeranian.
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