Manso "The Holligan"

We’ve a dog in Argentina; he’s called Manso, which in Spanish means tame.
This is an irony on itself because our dog is a Hooligan.

Our pets don’t behave like they KNOW; rather they behave the way they’ve LEARNED (not necessarily well) to behave.

Manso "the Holligan" learned to bark, be rude and incite fear on every visitors.

I stay at my home in Argentina at least two times a year.

This guy knows me and my husband, but every time we arrive at the door and press the ring bell, we have to be careful not to be eaten in pieces because he’s barking and chewing at the steel bars trying to get to us.

I’ve resourced to soothing voices, calling ahead so someone can wait for us at the door, but most times, Manso it’s the dictator at the door, barking away like a stressed/high dog.

He needs a daily Valium dose. That would be my prescription to make him normal.

In the mean time, I’m sure he’ll continue to be a thug.

A thug/hooligan/ruffian called “tame”. 

This is the weirdest paradox ever!

Nutered or Neutered?

Our dog was neutered this past week.
It’s a simple procedure where in twenty minutes time under heavy anaesthesia, they remove one of his male parts and he’s left emasculated with a plastic cone around his neck to show for it.

I’m not laughing when I see him crash against the walls, crash against the floor or crash against us… at least, not on the outside.

It seems awful of me, but believe me: I can’t help it.

I’m being all tender with him: giving him treats, brushing his hair, and petting him more than usual to compensate for the cone-wearing state I have left him after a visit to the Vet.
My husband chastises me all the time because I stifle some giggles while helping Buono get onto his bed or while playing whit him and seeing how he can’t pick-up his favourite toy from the ground.

His cone is always on his way, he can’t even eat properly but growls at me when I get near his food.
I’ve come up with a strategy to make him learn faster how to properly walk for the next ten days: every time he has to walk some place and bums into chairs or the table, I grab his cone, and help him walk while saying: “up, up, keep it up”.

He looks at me with annoyance in his face, most surely thinking: how is it possible that I’m the uncoordinated one now?

Buono knows that I can’t walk straight and am always stumbling onto something.

I’ve seen him dreadfully looking at me when I’m stepping over him, afraid that I might fall over and make dog-puree out of him.

Now, I’m the one on the lookout, keeping an eye for “the cone”, hoping for him not to bump me from behind, because we’ll end up, both of us, splattered onto the floor: the clumsy one and the cone-head.

 Clumsy-Cone Puree

... and the cold is already here... bummer

If you have lived most of your life in a warm country as I was until last year, when the first snow of the season arrives, it's kind of a "stay in you PJ's and indoors" day.
Don't get me wrong, a few cold days it's good for your skin and for a change of scenery, but please! 6 months!! That's really pushing it mother nature!!
Is in days like today that I snuggle close to my husband, cover myself in one of those fluffy blankets (he gets static electricity from it so he hates it) that I love so much, and day dream about the Caribbean.
I used to live there, but as everything in life, you don't appreciate everything that you have until you loose it, so now I have to comfort myself with the heating system in our apartment to compensate for the lack of heat in this country...pity!
However, my dog loves snow! Can you believe that Buono waits close to the window, with his nose sticked to the glass until the snow ceases, and then he goes outside to the balcony and walks in circles as a crazy man.
I wish I was more like him, waiting... hoping for a cold day; but I'm not that lucky, so today is the first day for the most difficult five months in my life.
They say all you need is love... I need heat!!
Bring in the summer... wishful thinking for now.