WTF Wednesday

12 Nov

Crocs:  You’ll never want to take them off, so long as you don’t look down or have friends who point them out, snicker and question your judgment to your face.


Seriously.  They are ugly.  They’re not even tolerably ugly like cheap flip-flops or Vibrams (Arguable point for Fang). They’re just goddamn ugly.  Don’t pretend you like the humpbacked, chunky-and hole-filled clogs from hell.   You don’t and your feet don’t either.

For some reason that we can’t fathom, Crocs have spread like the clap around the globe and are no longer just for unfortunately dressed German tourists.  

Because Crocs are the gift that won’t stop giving, one company has apparently decided to jump into the fray by creating a dog bed that is shaped like a Croc.   For serious. 

Screen Shot 2015-11-11 at 3.39.53 PM

Do you hate your dog?  You sure?  That says “I hate myself and my little dog too”.  We already know about the stupid decorative pins (Nothing can fix the ugly that are those) and the fancy dress crocs which almost look like real shoes (You can’t fool us, foam-manufacturing heathens) but this… this has gone too far. Leave the dogs alone.

More than you wanted to know a.k.a. Why I’m not here right now, by Fang.

2 Nov

As many of you are aware I recently moved and have been more absent than usual from our illustrious blog this fall. Busy Bee and Potnoodle have been rockstars keeping up where I’ve bitched out and I owe them many frilly drinks on our next adventure. As for me… well  I started a new job (Which I think I actually love), left a situation I can only describe as a rut (Didn’t love but it was home) and have been struggling with my mental health on a level of intense and scary I’ve not had in a long time. This is a dog blog, but it’s still a blog and I feel like some explanation of my absence to our readers and my co-writers is in order.

Minus the substance abuse problems of these rockstars.

I rarely talk about personal things (and by rare I mean jackalope riding a unicorn to the moon rare). My problems have been and will continue to be my problems whether or not I voice them to others. When things are going poorly it’s rare for me to talk much at all. This has been a very quiet fall everywhere but in my own head.  Finding topics I can be flippant about in TDS irreverence has been difficult if not impossible when every good thing I can find personally is torpedoed by my own brain. I’ve been torpedoing other things too making it an incredibly lonely time despite being more involved with other people than I have been in years.

Not to make this about me or anything.

In a non-technical sense I have an anxiety disorder. In my case essentially it means I obsess over minor things that are stressful to the point of destroying my own life. I can say that and think it’s totally normal and that alone is likely a problem. I was tentatively diagnosed as a child which wasn’t technically correct but I’m not going to argue. I literally cannot turn off the wave of bad feelings in my head without a lot of mental prepping and relaxation techniques. Sounds like a real party, right? I learned to cope well enough to pass as a semi-productive human being but my coping mechanisms of ‘control issues’ and ‘sucking it up’ are only effective for so long. In a more technical sense, I can play “Genetic component mental health disorders Bingo” on my family tree with most of the DSMV-IV so the possible diagnosis element scares me more than the label it was given a decade ago. There’s a lot to be said about removing the stigma from mental illness, but I am neither brave nor an advocate for anything beyond minimizing the stupid in my daily existence, so while I can tell you I have a problem, I still don’t super-want to talk about it or hang up a banner let alone announce it to complete strangers in public.


I do also like spinach and sailor suits.

Dear readers, while you’ve been working away productively this fall, I’ve been whittling away the tenuous grasp I have on reality and practicing my high-dives from ridiculous anxiety cliffs down to end of the world ocean while telling everyone things are great and aiming for an air of “I’m totally fine, how ridiculous for you to wonder, peon”. While the anxiety itself has been justified, the attitude about it has not been, nor has the pulling away from anyone who cares about me, the lame excuses for not wanting to talk, the refusal to discuss anything that doesn’t have four legs and fur or the brushing-off of my fellow TDS authors when they ask for my input. It’s not okay and I’m sorry.

Nothing says I’m sorry like potato animals.

So here’s the gist, kids. I’ve been gone for a while. I will likely continue to be gone for a while minus the odd rant, at least until I can find my sense of humor again. Things are not alright and I am not okay, despite what I may in fact tell you but I’m pretty sure they will be okay eventually, maybe, and once they’re okay-ish then I will be too.

Except really fine.


Some things that are fine (For realz):

-My dogs are fantastic and perfect.

-I get to sign papers giving kids puppies.

-I really do like my new job.

-Booking hotel rooms for dog shows gives me things to look forward to.

-Many people have it a lot worse than me (Which is awful but finding perspective helps tone down the personal angst a lot when you’re stuck in a loop)

-I have friends who at least tolerate me when things are rough.

-Ironic use of Z for pluralizing words.*

*No that’s never okay.

Just Don’t Call Me Late For Dinner; or Your dog can’t actually speak English, ya dumbass.

20 Oct

Show of hands if you’ve ever called your dog an asshole.  Or a fucker.  Or any other particularly colorful name that you’ve seen us use here on this blog.

*waves hands in the air like we just don’t care*

For those of you that didn’t raise your hands, either you are lying or you have perfect dogs.  In which case you’re still lying.

For those of you that raised your hands, welcome to the club.  We feel you.  We get you.  You’re our people.  And by our people, we mean our foul-mouthed minions.

If you are someone who thinks that calling your dog an asshole makes you an ever bigger asshole, may we suggest getting your panties out of a wad?

Here’s the thing.  We can love our dogs and still refer to them as shitweasels.   We can even joke about rehoming our dogs and still love them. Potnoodle tries to give her dogs away constantly (turns out no one else wants the assholes either.)  While this may seem like common sense to those of you who are rational and/or have a sense of humor, you’d be surprised how many uptight people get upset on various dog forums or personal Facebook pages when they see dogs referred to as anything other than a precious furbaby.  BusyBee recently received a nasty Facebook message from a “friend” who was upset that she referred to her dog as “the worst”.   Seriously.    No lady, you’re the actual worst.

Before one of you (who probably shouldn’t be on our page in the first place) says, “But Dog Snobs,  isn’t it a slippery slope from calling your dog an assmarmot to abusing them?” all we can do is roll our eyes and tell you to relax.  We assure that our dogs are pretty much the opposite of abused, even if they do occasionally get called things that would make our grandmothers blush.

Here’s the thing. Dogs give zero fucks about what they’re called. Tone of voice? yes. That they care about. Jokingly referring to your dog as a dumbass on the internet? Nope. They’re not going to pick that up. We see you over there, wringing your hands, clutching your pearls, and blathering on about building a relationship. We hear you, we just don’t think calling our dogs a Ratbag has any bearing on the relationship.

Dog ownership isn’t all sunshine and roses. The smiliest, happiest dog owner can continue to bottle it in, smile and call Pookie their furbaby all day long but one day, at three in the morning, Pookie is going to paint her crate with the foulest diarrhea that has ever existed and Ms.Happyfuntimes is going to have to explode. It happens. You realize it isn’t the dog’s fault but you still call them Shittageddon as you magic erase all your hopes and dreams off the wall.

But when it does….

“He’s just protective”: Freakshows and the people who love them problematically.

14 Sep

We started this article last summer in fact when Fang and Potnoodle went on another edition of “Grand Dogshow Adventure™” and infringed upon the hospitality of friends in another state because being equal parts poor, annoyed with your work circumstances, and willing to make others uncomfortable opens up your bunking-in options dramatically. Extensive driving, however did leave much time for article discussion (Despite not actually putting it all together until a year later) and we’re going to hit on one that we’d begun and stalled on previously, the tricky issue of “protective” dogs who we all know aren’t actually protective.

We air quote whatever you say.

We’ve all seen it.  Hell, it’s been so romanticized and stuffed down our throats that it’s really hard to get around.   What are we talking about? The Perfect Dog. From Rin Tin Tin to Lassie, the perfect dog comes home not only pre-trained, single-mindedly bonded to its owner, psychic,  perfectly coiffed without a brush ever having touched its luscious locks, kid-socialized and a completely savage vicious creature to any man or beast who threatens its owner. Sound familiar?



Much like the discovery that your closet can’t actually transport you to Narnia (So much for multifunctional, IKEA, you jerks) most of us get over this idea sometime between puberty and getting our first dogs. While these people are a pain in the ass, the belief that their dog can do no wrong is considerably less irritating than their counterparts, the freakshow enablers. This small subset of the population believe erroneously their special snowflake is a delicate flower of Persia who must be coddled, cuddled and soothed in perpetuity because “He’s a rescue!” or “He’s just a normal <insert breed here>” and any and all bad behavior is excused on that basis from now until the end of eternity.


Delicate God Damn it

Delicate God Damn it!




Let’s look at the reality here. The actual number of truly physically abused dogs in a given population (And we mean actually abused, not just fed Beneful and denied a custom no-pull harness) is very small. Totally unsocialized, under-stimulated and undervalued? Absolutely. Physically abused? Unlikely. Physically abused by a man in a funny hat? Even less likely. Odds are good the dog has just never seen such a bizarrely headed man and therefore he is suspicious and someone to be feared.

I also find this terrifying… yet captivating?

This in and of itself is not particularly problematic, unusual or even worrisome to most reasonable dog people. Damaged dogs? Hell, we see them weekly. Fearful, undersocialized and dogs with poor genetic temperaments are nothing new or even interesting at this point. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt with the holes in it from Snookums’ panic scramble to freedom from their leash being clipped to their collar before they ran out the door to be killed on the highway. Dogs with issues are the norm. They are not inherently the problem.

Ten of them are you, and the last three are open for suggestions.


Where this becomes an issue is when our inherent need to own ‘Perfection the Wonder Hound” kicks in and we begin making excuses, enabling behaviors and in some cases even encouraging these horrendously bad manners (and bad temperament) simply because the dog is damaged (Rescued/neglected etc) or too valuable to not excuse, or because no one is bleeding yet…


The eighteen month old German Shepherd cowering between your legs and growling at your vet IS NOT PROTECTING YOU.

Why would I hide? I’m bad-ass.

The Bichon you physically cannot leash because he will bite your hand IS NOT JUST CRABBY.

Okay, well maybe in this case a nasty one is normal.

The confident herding breed adult puddled (literally and/or figuratively) on the ground when a judge attempts a cursory exam, or even better, whips around to nail them because “He touched me delicately with kind hands” IS NOT NORMAL FOR THE BREED.

He’s going to what to my what?

The Shih Tzu barking and carrying on with darting nips to ankles which draw blood IS NOT JUST PLAYING.

“I’m going to drain your blood!”

These are all serious behavior and dare we say, temperament issues that need to be dealt with and/or locked away and never reproduced. How you deal with them is a many wondrous thing and there are literally dozens of options from the asinine to amazingly effective but what matters is that you deal with them. We don’t accept your excuses* and you shouldn’t either.


You have a freak or a dog who acts like a freak sometimes? B.F.D. The next time you want to explain away their behavior, pause and reflect:
1) Are you explaining the behavior to someone who is in some way helping you fix the issue?
2) Are you making vast generalizations on breed temperament to explain why you don’t have an issue and everyone who thinks you do has the problem?
3) Yelling at someone who dares toddle by and disturb your snowflake’s forty foot perimeter bubble of not having an ever-loving shit fit?
4) Are you continually setting your dog up to fail with environments they cannot possibly enjoy or succeed in just to prove to yourself they are “totally fine” while telling those around you that this is normal and okay?

If you answered “Yes” to anything other than 1, we need you to go back up to the top and read all the way through again then think about it then read it again.

So here’s the breakdown, kids. Kooky, weird, spooky freakshow dogs are not inherently unusual, weird, or anything to be particularly afraid of.  It happens. It sucks. It means a lot more work for you, but… they can still in most cases have relatively obedient and normal lives. As long as you can accept that you do in fact have a problem and are willing to deal with it you’re solidly on the right track. If you pretend you don’t have a problem or have somehow contracted the erroneous belief that everyone else is wrong, well then we’re going to have issues, and more problematically your dogs are going to have issues… forever. Don’t be that owner who we crate away from and all tacitly try to avoid coming into contact with because your dog is terrible and you are clueless and do dumb stuff with him. Just don’t.

We did ourselves a favor.

*And yes, sometimes situations with freaks are unavoidable but as long as you’re working on it we really don’t judge.

Forgive me for I have sinned: A confession by BusyBee

28 Aug

Hi, my name is BusyBee and I have a confession.  I let my dog get fat.

As our readers know, we here at the Dog Snobs feel strongly about keeping dogs in good shape and not letting them get to manatee-type proportions.   As such, you can imagine how hard this is for me to admit this not only to myself but to all of you.

Mr. T is a stocky boy to start and has never been a particularly lean dog, but a particularly busy summer at work, shitty weather, and a slew of other lame excuses led me to realize a few weeks ago that my formerly fit specimen of a dog has gotten…err…fluffy.   Sure I had noticed his harness was getting a little tight and that his usual amount of neck rolls had increased, but it didn’t dawn on me just how heavy he had gotten until I saw a particularly unflattering photo someone else took of him.  While my first instinct was to say that the camera adds 10 pounds (oh wait, I already used that excuse for my own selfies), I quickly became horrified and embarrassed.


Nope. Just fat.

Now, I know some of you are probably judging me at this point (and that would be your right), but I would like to think that the difference between myself and the people we generally shame for having fat dogs is that I *know*  my dog is fat and I’m taking immediate steps to stop him from getting even fatter.    From cutting down his meals (Mr. T is pretty sure I’m starving him) and upping exercise, my goal is to get Teddy down to his healthy weight, which is about 5 pounds less than he is now.

Next stop, puppy weight.


I refuse to be one those people who flatly refuses to acknowledge that their dog is fat, comes up with ridiculous excuses (“It’s just his winter weight”), or keeps feeding my dog until I have to roll him down the hill.   I won’t let my dog be a statistic ( or more realistically a fat dog meme), dammit, so here we go on our weight-loss journey.


So if you have it in your hearts, forgive me for letting Mr. T get a little too fat and happy.   I’ll work on forgiving myself next.



WTF Wednesday: Click and Treat

30 Jul





Bling bling

Ta daaaaaaa



Don’t get us wrong, we like sparkles as much as the next girl, but on a clicker, really?  Isn’t the whole idea of clickers is that they supposed to be easy to hold and use?  Pretty sure bedazzling the crap out of it doesn’t make it any more practical.  It does, however, make you look like a Toddlers & Tiaras reject, which is saying a lot since we all know the quality of those klassy (yes, with a K) individuals on the show.
Plus, if you’re like us, you lose clickers faster than you can buy them.   Losing one you paid $60 for (seriously, that is the going rate on Etsy) is a lot more painful than losing a handful of free ones you picked up at various shows, seminars, etc.

So, would you pay $60 for one of these babies?


No Cookie for You: You don’t get a medal for failing

23 Jul

So we’re going to tell you a story.

Yes, yes it is.

Once upon a time there was a rescue puppy. A well-meaning rescuer adopted said puppy and from the beginning there were problems. Nearly a decade, multiple attacks on adults, children and other dogs and a total lack of any successfully incorporated management later, and he was euthanized after attacking an octogenarian. But don’t worry because the rescuer saved him from himself. The, incredibly sanctimonious, end.

After hearing this story our heads just explodes into what we can only describe as rage confetti. In the near decade this person had “tried everything” but he was great at home so…

What the Actual Fuck?

The most irritating part of any of this isn’t even that the dog was so amazingly mismanaged that he had to be put down, it’s that he wasn’t put down sooner. We here at TDS are big believers in the realities of rescues;  you cannot and 100% should not save them all. However, if you make the decision to save one of these dogs ( who in most other circumstances should be put down), you are committing to a literal lifetime of management–not shitty half-assed management, but real, rigorous, consistent and safe handling of a dog who is a risk to everyone around them.

This is the kind of management that sucks. It’s inconvenient. It’s restrictive in the extreme. It means that you can’t just do what you want with your dog when you want to and barriers and precautions for safety are always at the forefront. It means muzzles, cancelled vacations, and a kennel run, and signage and crating and walking at non-busy times. It means, yes Virginia, there is the all important quality of life question. He bit multiple people through a muzzle? That’s quite a trick. He chased people down the driveway? That’s mighty hard to do in a crate inside the house. That quality of life was not even an issue until this far along tells us that whatever bullshit management was in place was not enough and clearly not well executed. We know people with extremely unstable dogs and their management regimes are unreal and well-beyond what most households should or can undertake. Their primary concerns are safety followed shortly thereafter by well-being. When the two can no longer be balanced, they do the right thing. A freak-accident in their carefully managed home turns into a nightmare. They are heartbroken, and rightfully so, when they must do the right thing for them. No one else was ever in danger of their dog since their vigilance with strangers never faltered but unstable is unstable. Even with restrictions in place, a single error and you can’t go back to how it was before.

So here’s some real talk. You don’t get a medal for failing (unless you are involved in youth sports or science fairs). You don’t get cookies or head-pats for consistently and thoroughly putting others at risk because he didn’t chew shit in your house and was sweet at home (You know other than the raging instability and bite history ). Multiple bites on multiple people is not okay. Poor management of a dog with multiple bites on multiple people is unacceptable on every single level. You failed every person and dog that was bitten after the first time with poor management which should have been a clue after the second, third, hell even fourth bites. We’re  truly sorry that you are sad and blaming yourself, but before you attempt to rescue yet another sad-sack rescue nightmare, take these words into consideration.

Saving the unsaveable doesn’t earn you extra points. There is no special place in heaven for people who keep dogs who attack children (and if there is we don’t think it’s the nice kind of special) and you’re not getting any kind of extra karmic bump for being inconvenienced by proper management. Keeping a truly dangerous dog alive is a selfish choice in 100% of all situations but it doesn’t have to be a bad choice if it’s done well.

So we guess what we’re saying is this: If you’re going to be selfish. do it right. If you can’t or won’t do it right, then you don’t need to have that dog and more importantly, that dog doesn’t need you.  Are you willing to put your life on hold for one dog who will likely never be safe in everyday situations? Are you willing to dramatically alter every interaction you could ever expose this dog to? Are you willing to spend years hunting for work-arounds, long-term behavior management techniques, trainers and behaviorists with a clue and the money that flows out of your wallet with each new attempt and in many cases failure? It is a hard choice and making that choice “to save” or not is heartbreaking, but ultimately it comes down to reality. If there is no safety net (Your dog’s breeder or rescue; Do not cut them out of any temperament-related decisions. It’s info they need to have)  it is up to you, your dog’s advocate to make the hard choice.

The End.

Sex Toy or Dog Toy Saturday

19 Jul

We’ve been slacking on Sex Toy or Dog Toy shenanigans, we know.  We would like to report that it’s because we’ve been getting so much action in our personal lives that we needn’t write about such schlock, but sadly, that isn’t the case.  So, here we are, back to writing about things that require us to clear our internet search history on the regular.   So minions, which one is ribbed for your pleasure and which is ribbed for Fido’s pleasure?





We want you think LONG and HARD about this one.  See what we did there?  No?  Think harder. And longer…and..ok.  We’re done.  You missed Saturdays, didn’t you?




Option B, despite having some rather suspicious looking nubbins’ is the dog toy (puppy teething rings), while Option A is a lovely set of cock rings.   Both are dishwasher safe (just say no to sex toys next to coffee mugs) and sturdy, so you just know there is some sicko out there using them for dual purposes.  If it’s one of you, dear readers, we really don’t want to know about it.

GoFundYourself: Moving, Rednecks, and other updates in the life of Fang.

13 Jul

I Fang, have been a busy bee (No relation) in the somewhat expected but still rather sudden process of moving. That’s right underlings, I am leaving the elderly phallic shit-show that is The Sunshine State and departing for blue-green pastures to the north. While I’ve been playing an elaborate game of “Maybe Potnoodle and BusyBee will just pretend I contributed to something” it’s gotten a little silent and a little awkward so this is my contribution for the next month or so while I pretend to pack things while playing an alarming amount of Tetris. It is of course a list of things that are irritating me at this exact second. You’re welcome.

Not really, Florida. I know you try, you just fail so often it’s painful.

  1. Is it just me or has everyone lost their mind? Perhaps it was just that weird little bit of niggly earwax that constituted some degree of self-respect that was picked out sometime between some moron buying some sad sack parvo puppy off Craigslist for the low price of $7000, and then proceeding to hold the rest of us emotionally hostage as they hit us up for hundreds of dollars to fund this astoundingly poor life decision. I get it, I do, shit happens, emergency funds are very easy to deplete and sometimes life just sucks. There is however a fine line between “Oh how sad” and “God, what now?”.Despite theories to the contrary I’m not actually fully heartless. I don’t begrudge genuine emergencies, charities, or fundraisers for legitimately good causes. Hell, last year I was on a team rally (I’ve still got glitter in places I don’t want to think about) that used a similar site for an amazing cause and managed to contribute a fantastic amount of money. But here’s the gist guys–I’m not going to contribute to your 30k fund for your special service dog who is being imported as a puppy from some far off ‘-istan’ and he’s the only dog who could ever do the job ever. I’m also not going to contribute to your 20 year old dog’s CCL repair, your new $300 training vest, a crash-tested crate for your snookums or my personal favorite, a puppy for the kids because they can’t afford to buy one.
    I am by no means the arbiter of sound financial judgment, but I am cheap and pretty good at differentiating a need from a want. While I think many of these sites were set up with the former in mind, they’re increasingly directed towards the latter. To those funds I do in fact say, Go Fund Yourself.

    When your life plan matches a joke on South Park, you should probably reconsider your options.

  2. Stupid people annoy me. Willfully stupid people make me want to smash things. While I was closing up at work I took T-beast, who has turned into a bit of a frisbee-phile, out while I shut off ponds, etc. There was one other dog in the entire park and while I’d previously found this dog annoying, it was a hot and low-key evening, so I wasn’t anticipating any difficulty. I was amazingly wrong. This dog who we will call Doltface proceeded to harass, chase, posture over and otherwise ignore the amazing restraint shown by T-beast in her judicious corrections. Doltface’s owner, who we can just call TheAmazingDolt, yelled “Come! Come to me, damn it! Come! Get over here!” repeatedly while never actually bothering to stand up or put down her magazine. An inability to keep my mouth shut led to this charming exchange:“You realize that by not actually getting up and resolving the issue he’s learning he doesn’t have to listen to you at all, right?”
    “You’re teaching him that blowing you off is totally fine.”
    “He knows it! He’s supposed to come.”Amazingly, my mouth remained shut about other things that are supposed to happen, especially in regard to natural selection, but here’s the point. Supposedly this woman knows what she’s doing as she tells us all in great detail. Given how much yelling, puffing, and lecturing him on his badness that she does, one would think the reality would dawn on her but the rose-color glasses are GorillaGlass trifocals apparently. Supposed to and does are in fact different things. Who knew?

    Oh dear god.

  3. Moving is a shit-ton more difficult with dogs. I typically have four dogs in my house in an elaborate social strata that requires arrows and graphs to explain in detail. That is magnified in my car where space is a premium and the Malinois is perpetually a projectile. Have you ever attempted to fit four dogs in a hatchback with 8 crates? I can say from experience that this is impossible. While all of my dogs are fine together in short bursts, something about the car brings out everyone’s bitchtasticness and by middle-Georgia we’re all just about done with the horse-shit. So I discovered on my most recent northerly adventure that three crates, a grooming table and four dogs was the upper limit of my little Subaru’s attitude hauling capability. Relying on the pity of friends, however, has paid off and the Malinois is hanging out with the mottled scorpion-dragon and her co-owner up north while I stuff the others into progressively smaller spaces. Eventually I should have a cattle dog themed jack in the box. If you would like to fund my new vehicle, my move or other shit I want but don’t feel like working for feel free to message us.

    And by that I mean I'm incredibly expensive

    And by that I mean I’m incredibly expensive

  4. Speaking of Funding-oneself, what the fuck is with these sad-sack impossible cases where everyone is supposed to put their life on hold to fund a legless, stomach-less, bowel-less, face-less lumps of flesh but sweet puppy and we have to save it! There was a new one I saw today with a severely deformed English Bulldog swimmer puppy (Who has not recovered) with amputated rear limbs, no functional pelvis and a spinal deformity… like really? What kind of quality of life are you looking at there? I’m glad that you love… well whatever that is, but let’s check our own feelings at the door a bit here. There is a point where your love is making the situation worse, not better and the reality of the situation needs to be examined.

    I cry my sad tears into a river of Shut the Fuck Up.

  5. We had a fire at work. No one died, or was injured and nothing was even destroyed but we have no A/C until the repair guy gets here (Which is who knows when), and then the big *if* he can actually fix it. This is Florida in July; Hot is an understatement.

    So yeah, it’s really hot

  6. On a non-dog related note, there was a big rally this weekend not far from my home… a big redneck rally for redneck pride over a redneck flag for redneck reasons that somehow seem worthwhile to said rednecks. (Really Evan, your parents are from Rhode Island) This interrupted my commute for Indian food. Not amused, rednecks. Not amused. In all seriousness though, is the fact that the flag is offensive news to people? I was pretty sure we all knew that already, like how the sky is blue or that sinkholes are bad. You can’t throw up a swastika wielding garden gnome and say you’re embracing this symbol of good luck from your Eurasian ancestors without being considered an asshole. I’m all for pointing out the obvious (Just ask my friends) but in this case I’m a little annoyed by the distraction of it all. The flag, while an issue, does not actually address any of the problems, circumstances or entitlements that allow for these tragedies to happen time after time. It’s all depressing and tragic and it never changes. What’s wrong with us?

    Just when I’m selling the damn house.

  7. Lastly, if you think a young adult high energy herding breed is “just going through a phase” when it gets ten minutes of play training a day and trashing all your shit out of boredom but crating is mean and you didn’t get a dog to crate it and it’ll be fine haters!… just get the fuck out. Just go. Go. Shoo. Away with thee. Except before you do, tell me where you’re going to hang out your newly minted “professional trainer” shingle, so I can move there and fix all the shit you fuck up beyond all reason for profit and let’s be honest… funsies.


I could go on, but that’s all I’ve got for you today kids. Hopefully I’ll be back to our regularly scheduled bitchery sooner rather than later but until then, happy trails and happier tails.

WTF Wednesday

9 Jul

This dog gets it

Whatever happened to washing your dog the old-fashioned way?  Do we really need more contraptions?   Here are a few observations about the Woof Washer 360:


  1. There is no water pressure.  Are we really to believe it would get your dog clean?
  2. What if the dog doesn’t feel like playing circus and jumping through hoops? Then what?
  3. Does anyone else envision a dog revolting by taking off running with the woof washer still attached and causing mayhem?
  4. The idea of simple water and soap washing all the filth our dogs venture in without any scrubbing is laughable. Do you just let it hang on your dog while you scrub? Or do you have to wrestle them back through the hoop?
  5. Potnoodle’s cattle dog (and many other dogs,  we’re sure) would find nothing more fun than completely destroying this in an attempt to murder the water demons.

In summation,  we can’t think of a less practical way to wash your dog.  If you’re incapable of handling your dog to bathe it,  it’s unlikely you can run it through this contraption.  We suggest a groomer.



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