Look at Those Cover Girl Eyes

The thing about our beloved Boxers is their spirit, heart, soul...divine. The bearer of goodness, good cheer, warmth, affection, nonjudgement, excitement, oh yah...exuberant as all get out, athletic, ready for a walk, run or ride at a moments notice, funny, full of joy, posers, as in strike a pose, loyal...oh my God, the loyalty. What's not to love and adore?

I've known some great doggie dogs in my life; Moochie, Muskie, Juno, Tuffy, Sammie, ChaCha-Marie-Jack, Sandy Jean, Maggie, Jiggs, Rufus, of course Alexander Maximillian Wolfgang Francois Dubois Houndog Ramirez de Ipiotis. I just called my boy; Alexander or Ali Babba or Ali Bob, whatever I was in the mood to call him, half Doberman, half Alaskan Malamute, and one hell of a dog with quite a presence. My mother sometimes referred to him as a sheep in wolves clothing, because of his fierce face. If we ever picked-up a hitch hiker, back in the early 80's, on the way to Vegas or Gallup he would let me know if the individual had a weapon, with a growl, as if to say; "Watch it with this one Mair, he's packing heat,"

Yah, whose gonna try anything funky with a big black and tan dog-face (puro cara) leaning over the front seat, right in your face like; "Where you headin fella?" "We're on a road trip and if you try anything motha f**ker, I'm gonna take a big-bloody-bite out of your hitchhiking face much faster than you can cause any trouble." "No warning, I'll just mess you up, real-quick-type-thing." I wouldn't do that now-a-days, way too risky, sadly but honestly, way to hostile a world out there and Alexander is in heaven. Rruff.

But back to the Boxers. I just love them. I will write and blog more about those crazy but incredibly lovable doggie-dogs. The first Boxer I've sheltered and shared a good part of life with was Annie May, she loved children and children loved her, then Spike, Annies good son. He was a baby-cry but was intimidating and had that don't f**k with me look. Both dogs succumbed to mass cells and we loved them to death. I held both of them in my arms at their respective time of death, when it was time to let them go. I cried like a baby to have to say goodbye to my precious doggies. <-Spikey the big boy (top), and his precious mommie, Annie, posing on the arm of the chair.

And now we have our kooky Sunni Marie Jack Paws or Paz Guadalupita.

We named her Guadalupita because we brought her home from Gary's (big brother) the day before the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe. We got Annie from Gary and Dellie back in the early 90's, probably 1990 to be exact. Anyway loves me my Boxerz. Sunni Marie ->

Dogs really do make life, for me anyway, more livable and often I've pondered that 'ol addage that goes something like: "The more I know poeple, the more I like my dog." Woof!

Redickulous

Joyful one, you wonder what I would say about man's best friend...Ask a ridiculous question-get a redickulous answer. Pretty simple; It has it's place.

Some male and female, egocentrics fancy themselves to have a substantial enough "beginning" to sling it in back of their shoulders. Big, drag on the floor, gets in the room before you do...big...notifying the whole world "I am here, you lucky people"..."large and in charge, alpha a**hole." I know how it goes... I know that brash, brazen, cocky way. Nothing to be proud of necessarily.

It's an ego maniac type thing...absurd, asinine behavior requiring the dumb ass "ego" to be stroked, nothing less than audacious, psychotic, cave- dwelling, bizarre, freaky and thankfully for me fleeting albeit out of control, even if only for a moment.

HAZARD-WARNING: Reality check required. So let's break it down, fold? bend? but not mutilate in graphic detail. The long and short of it: Fry, shake n bake it up, sizzling, shriveling hot, open face and served generously to those jonzin to show it off the most, to see who wins the pissing contest, drag it around like a boa on Marilyn Monroe and see whose is bigger. That's pretty much what I'd say Joy.