Speaking of celebrating, Ango is rapidly approaching the 100 mark on his home tracker. By the time this post goes up, hopefully he’ll have made it without any issues or problems. He’s been a really good boy so far and hasn’t made a stink about being left alone in the apartment, even though he has every right to. I feel bad whenever I have to go to work for 8 hours, because I know he’s probably just sitting and waiting for me to come back. It’s like that Spongebob meme where Patrick tells Spongebob that all he does when he’s working is wait for him to come home so they can play again.
But Ango’s big 100 day achievement is not made any less important because of the fact that a majority of those days were spent lounging with me on the couch during the summer. He didn’t seem to mind those days and he enjoyed having constant company, but that doesn’t cheapen the fact that he’s still lasted almost 100 days without wrecking the apartment. He’s just as capable of wrecking the apartment while we’re around as he is while he’s home alone. The only difference is the degree of surveillance he’s under, which in this case was still very little, actually.
I just took a break from writing this blog to give Ango some head rubs. He loves when I grab his head lightly and tug behind his ears with all my might; he just seems to gravitate towards those types of rubs, the more eager and energetic ones. I love when he really leans into it and waits for me to finish so he can give celebratory licks. I love when he puts his head down, as if to say that he’s really enjoying this and needs to savor it while it’s still happening. He’s such a silly boy.
Sometimes we call Angus a big sausage because he looks very much like one. He’s big, full of love, and definitely a sausage. There’s no mistaking it: this dog is a sausage.
I mean, look at him.
He’s a big sausage and there’s no mistaking it.
No but really, this post is going to be Ango, our wonderful dog. The other weekend, he slipped, went airborne and fell on his side on the hardwood floor. It was his own fault, really, because he was getting super excited and running around the kitchen, which he’s not supposed to do, but he did it anyway because sometimes Ango is a jerk and doesn’t follow the rules exactly. He sometimes moans and makes groaning noises from across the room because he has nothing better to do than to do that. He just did it right as I was typing, actually, so he knows I’m writing about him from across the room. It’s part of his nature for him to want to be the center of attention, which is hilarious because as soon as people actually start paying attention to him, he’s already running over to one of his toys to bite and chew on. He can’t stand being excited for too long without having to chew on something close by, whether it’s the blanket in bed or a toy near him. He’s a fickle boy with fickle interests, but we love him for it.
This post might make it seem like I’m not exactly celebrating everyone’s favorite big sausage boy, but in reality I love him a ton and I’d rather have no other dog. I’m glad we were able to rescue him at the age of 6 and offer him a happy place to live out the rest of his adult years. He’s wonderful, and he deserves that kind of happiness above all else.
I’m dedicating blog post #300 to the good boy himself, Ango. He’s been a consistently great part of my life, despite his tendency to be a bit of a butt from time to time, and I don’t write enough blog posts about him. So today, it’s Ango time. Well-deserved, little dude.
Earlier in the day, when Alex and I were about to leave for the gym, Alex had Angus’s kong in his hand with a treat inside, and Angus jumped up and put his front paws on the table, knocking over all the magazines we had stacked up there. We were in the middle of talking about how Angus had been a good boy recently as this unfolded, which was perfectly ironic.
Angus is a wonderful dog, and I’ve learned some of his sweet spots too. If you rub his ears and head and push him towards you, he loves it. He just loves being pet and having rubs all over his head. When he leans into you, and his head is almost right up next to yours, that’s also a sign that he loves it and wants more. He really takes it all to heart. I love when I pet him on a specific spot, and then seconds later he rubs himself on that spot, either with his paws or mouth. It’s like he’s asking for it again but is only able to do a half-hearted job with his own two paws. A shame, but he tries his best and that’s what matters.
If Angus had the ability to pet himself wherever he wanted, he would definitely do so. He’s the type of dog who would definitely do whatever it takes to get there. Sometimes I get the chance to see what that reality would be like when he really gets into the self-petting.
The bedroom is probably Angus’s favorite place in the whole apartment. Without a doubt, he loves jumping on the bed as soon as the door opens, laying his paws down on the blankets, and relaxing his head between them. He is staunch and predictable in his habits. When I come home from work, one of the first things I do is take Angus out, but after that, I’ll open the closed doors in the apartment. Angus will, without fail, jump onto the bed seconds after the door opens. He loves the feel of being atop those blankets more than anything. That’s why we have blankets covering the sectional in our living room; that way, when Angus is home alone for a time, like when both of us have work, he can still relax the way he enjoys. However, it’s not the same for him. If he had to choose between the bedroom blankets and the couch blankets, he’d choose the bedroom blankets without thinking twice, or at all. And we’ve tried switching the blankets around. It doesn’t make much of a difference if the blankets have changed. Angus still prefers the bed, perhaps because of the height advantage, or perhaps because he’s surrounded by pillows and other comfortable stuff to lounge near.
When Angus is off the bed, he likes to rub his head through the ends of the blankets draped near the ground. Sometimes he gets caught in them, and that’s hilarious to watch. When we have company over he especially likes to show off his disappearing magic trick, where he sticks his head inside the blankets and proceeds to run around like crazy. Angus is unintentionally one of the funniest pets I’ve ever known, and I think it’s one of his defining features by this point. Having him around immediately lifts the mood.
When the time arrived, we gathered our things — the backpack, the watermelon salad in a grocery bag, Jimmy’s clothes and things — and left the apartment. It was 11:00am, and we knew we wouldn’t be back for awhile longer. It’s on days like these when I worry about Angus, our dog, who hasn’t been alone for very long over the summer. He hasn’t run into any problems in 52 days, hasn’t tore up the incense holder but has certainly torn a bunch of his toys. He’s been a busy boy, spending time mostly home with me, taking walks or casual strolls around the apartment and back and forth a few times until he decides to pee. He’s a long walker, and he’s got ambitions of his own when we take him outside; sometimes those ambitions include walking around and dragging me through the park until he finally decides it’s time for him to plop down and poop.
But there are other times when Angus is alone, and I feel bad for him. He’s a good dog and I don’t like the image of him sitting on the couch, waiting for us to eventually come back and greet him again. I feel like it must be lonely for him to sit there by himself, eagerly anticipating our return only for it to not come for another hour or more. I know it’s normal, and eventually he’ll get used to it again after I have to return to work, but when that time comes, I’ll still be feeling bad about our dog. The alone time is never fun, and I know that already based on what it was like while I was unemployed not too long ago. This is what the alone time is; Angus mostly being by himself when there’s nothing better for us to be doing with him.
Again, this post is a continuation of the previous two posts, so read those if you haven’t already before this one!
Last time, we were on the topic of Angus and his communication skills, and how novel it is that he’s able to talk to us through his actions.
The silence and stubbornness is, of course, not the only way that Angus communicates with us though; he wags his tail when he’s excited, he barks when he’s angered or alert or in pain, and he lounges the rest of the time, communicating to us that he doesn’t want to be bothered for the foreseeable future. I don’t blame him, of course; I would want the same thing if all I had to do every day was lounge and relax like a big lard boy. It’s almost as if he’s a very old man trapped in a dog’s body, which I say but then remember as I’m writing that he’s 6, not totally a new dog on the block. He’s been around a few times before.
Like Walt Whitman, this dog contains multitudes. He’s full of energy and complexity, whenever I get the chance to take a good look at him. I hate when people say that dogs don’t have real personalities, memories, or affections for their owners; I can absolutely sense a desire for closeness with us whenever Angus is around. He loves attention to the point that he will whine for it sometimes, but not often. When he lets out a moo or a moan, it’s communicating to us that he wants something, or that he’s just gotten into a really comfortable position and does not want to be disturbed. I’m envious of him whenever he gets like that; I can only imagine how comfortable life must be as a dog, when you’re made of fur and hair and able to get rubs whenever you ask for it.
This post is a continuation from the previous one, so if you haven’t read that one, you may want to go back and check it out so everything makes sense!
When Angus starts to wander around outside, it’s best to just let him do what he does. If you try to stop him in the middle of a jaunt, he’ll once again stay completely still and wait for you to give him rubs on his head. Again, this is a fickle animal with fickle needs and desires. His stubbornness is one of his defining characteristics, after all.
But even though I write about him in this way, I hope you understand that I do so out of love for him. It’s all playful and meant not to deride him as a pet, but to poke fun at his idiosyncrasies. His uniqueness is what makes him so lovable to us, and when he decides to stand completely still while waiting to go to the bathroom, it feels like he’s communicating to us through his behavior. I like that feeling, that he’s trying to speak to us in some way and this is the only appropriate way he feels able to communicate whatever he’s feeling.
Angus is an absolute blessing on our lives and I don’t know what life alone during the summer would be like without my constant canine companion by my side. I’m so happy that Alex and I were lucky enough to find the perfect dog for us while we were at a local adoption event at Petsmart in North Haven, almost out of the blue. We were looking for another dog in particular that we saw online, but when he was taken, we decided on looking around elsewhere. I convinced Alex to check out the big boy in the crate, and she acquiesced. It just worked out perfectly, like it was meant to be or something.
Sometimes, when Angus is being a bit frustrating, he refuses to do much outside.
If it’s raining or even snowing, he’ll stand at the doorway into the apartment complex and just wait for you. Nothing especially interesting going on in the lobby, just Angus being completely still, almost invisible. When he gets like that, you have to give him rubs or talk to him a bit before he eventually starts moving again. It takes time to get Angus back in his groove, with him moving around energetically after standing still and silent for so long. It’s a phase that he goes through, but occasionally it happens more than once per visit outside. In those moments, head rubs are again essential, but usually those silences take longer to bust through.
See, if you haven’t already gleaned this from reading the blog in the past, Angus is a stubborn boy. He’s a bit of a loner, likes to sit by himself and put his paws next to his head, and his favorite spot in the whole apartment is nestled between the pillows on our bed. This is made better when you end up in the shower or are momentarily on the computer, because he likes attention and if he’s not getting it, he’s going to be on the bed instead. He’s got a mind of his own, this dog. I could write essays about his personality and inclinations, but I doubt anyone would want to read them.
When you take him outside, sometimes he doesn’t find a bathroom spot right away. Sometimes he walks in circles in front of the apartment complex lobby and just waits for some inspiration to hit him. He needs a very specific spot and a very specific temperament in order to pee appropriately. This is the way of the Angus, and nothing will get in his way of it.
Before I get started, let me say that this is a milestone blog post! #200 is here! I couldn’t think of anything fantastic to mention or discuss here, so I reverted back to talking about Angus as is the usual trend of things.
(Before you ask, no, we don’t feed Angus big, sweet cupcakes like the one featured in the picture, especially because it has chocolate in it and that would be an absolute disaster. We’re smart dog owners; I promise!)
Angus is a good, good boy, and good boys deserve treats every once in awhile. Today I’ll be sharing some of the various treats we give him and how they’ve impacted his storied life so far. Sometimes, Angus digs into them with reckless abandon and with no regard for anything except his inner craziness. He rushes forward and puts his mouth around the long, curled bone and rips into it with his teeth for hours and hours until eventually it’s all in his stomach, and he’s then a tired, exhausted mess on the couch. That’s usually how he reacts when we give him bones from our big bone pouch in the kitchen. We’ve stopped giving him bones all day, instead deciding to give him enough to last a week and that’s it.
We originally got Angus a nylabone toy, with cheeseburger flavoring on it, but he didn’t like it at all, so Alex gave it to her sister. When we’re downstairs, taking him outside for whatever reason, he will jump up onto the counter in the lobby with the milkbones in it. He’s a fiend for milkbones. Unfortunately, we’ve stopped giving him milkbones because they’re not very good for him and he’s gotten a bit chubby, but he still jumps for them regardless. That’s the price to pay of starting a habit and then taking it away quickly!
We also recently started giving him raw hide pieces, but he rips those up quickly too. No matter what we give him, he will devour it. Angus the Devourer.
Can’t believe, after all of these blog posts in a row that I’ve written, that I haven’t talked about sleeping yet. Sleeping is so, so enjoyable, and it’s one of my favorite things in the world. I love drifting off to bed with my head’s weight laying down on the pillows, nothing else in mind except the tranquility and relaxation I’m experiencing in this moment. The softness of the pillows, the coziness of the comforters. And nothing feels better than waking up before your alarm, realizing you still have a few more hours of sleep to go, and then drifting back off to sleep another time. I’d like to crystallize that moment and keep it forever, endlessly repeating it over and over until I eventually have to go into work or school or wherever is next. If only it were possible!
Sometimes my anxiety prevents me from falling asleep on time, but I’ve had good luck recently in falling asleep exactly when I need to. I’m almost always tired and ready to go to bed, regardless of what time of the day it is, so if the opportunity presents itself for me to drift off to bed, I’ll take it immediately and with no regrets. Having a strong, sturdy bed with various pillows and a dog sleeping next to the bed definitely helps, although, like I’ve said in other blog posts, having a dog sometimes makes sleeping more difficult than it needs to be. Sometimes you want to sleep for longer during the weekend, and then it’s all wrestled away from you by a dog jumping up on the bed and bothering you until you take him outside. It’s a sensible, ethical alarm clock. Thankfully he’s gotten better at not doing that since we got him his new bed. He’s been a good boy.