Dor-Bear

It occurred to me that even though she’s been in our lives for almost a year now, I’ve never talked about Dora.  I think it’s high-time to introduce the lovely lady.

Meet Dora.  Dora is a two-and-a-half year old Rottweiler/Black Lab mix.  Originally from Georgia, she was moved to a shelter up here in Minnesota to get away from the bugs that kept giving her heart worm.

She is a connoisseur of fine dining.  She would rather starve herself than to eat unappetizing food.  She won’t eat crumbs off the floor, and when you fill her bowl, she’ll inspect it, and then walk away if she’s not hungry.  Yet, the only thing I’ve ever seen her get possessive over is her food.

She loves ice.  She hates baths.  She twitched when she dreams.  She has ticklish feet.

She’s a creeper, and I mean that in two ways.  One, she creeps.  If you let her lay next to you, first she curls up beside you.  Then she cranes her head back and puts it in your lap.  If you don’t stop her, she will coil up her body, and slowly extend herself until she is in your lap.

Creeper...

What’s the opposite of a peeping tom?  Because Dora’s one of those, too.  She doesn’t stare into people’s houses; she stares out of mine.  She’s a creeper!  The girl knows more about what’s going on in the neighborhood than I do.  Its like living with a little old lady… who growls at anything moving.

If she didn’t growl - which is my one rule - she could be outside for hours, sitting on the steps, attentively eyeing the whole neighborhood.

If it wasn’t for other critters I could trust her off her leash.  She freezes up at the sight of birds, squirrels, bunnies, fake deer.

She’s a bigger chicken-shit than me.  A barking dog will make her whimper.  Hell, whenever there’s a thunderstorm, she looks for something to hide under.  Noises at night will make her howl in terror.  More often than not, it’s the cats.

Its probably payback, seeing how Dora has this tendency to box them in while they’re trying to get downstairs.  And she won’t desist until they smack the hell out of her and hiss in her face.  My puppy is emo.

She loves people.  Her favorite “hello” is to jump on you.  I tell people to tell her “off” if she does, but everyone insists that it’s okay.

We now have to scold our friends instead of the dog to make her stop.

She loves to dance, until she realizes that I’m not going to let her go.

She is an incessant licker.  She’ll lick her toys; her leash; her paws; her crotch; you.  When I repeatedly try to get Dora to stop, she will secretively lick the upholstery instead.

The women in my life.

She does well with kids.  They’re like lollipops for her.

I have a lazy dog.  She’ll lay in her kennel, and then on the couch, her pillow, my bed, outside.  At one point I thought she was getting sick, but the moment I started playing fetch with her she came to life. 

That’s right.  I bore my dog, and she’s lazy.  It’s so hard to tell which is which.

She loves her kennel.  If she thinks you’re getting ready to leave - or maybe when she’s just hoping you’ll leave - she rushes inside. 

She likes to be tucked in, too.  When she’s tired, she will pace back and forth, go in her kennel for a minute, and then come back out.  It’s bedtime, she’s decided, for everyone.  She wants to be told to go into her kennel, and for us to lock it shut.  Don’t ask me why.  Unless its storming, she doesn’t sleep well outside her kennel, even in our bed.

And when you tuck her in, you have to throw a blanket over her kennel, because movement in the night spooks her.  It’s like have a hairy, 70 pound parrot.

She is the strangest dog I’ve ever known.  I’m sure every dog owner says that, and they’re probably right.  But she’s my Dor-bear, and she’s the one I live with.