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Dog Days in Singapore
Apr. 13th, 2010 07:57 pmThe basis of shame is not some personal mistake of ours, but the ignominy, the humiliation we feel that we must be what we are without any choice in the matter, and that this humiliation is seen by everyone.
That was recited at the end of an episode of Criminal Minds I watched last night. I've been watching a lot of television lately ever since this trip turned into one of waiting. Waiting for my Cambridge interview. Waiting for my parents to come back from their trip to KL. Waiting for my sister to come home from school every day so it becomes something more than just glorified dog-sitting.
Most of my time is spent with the dog. Maximus is a pedigree Rottweiler puppy, eight months old, and already the size of the fully-grown golden retriever that came before him. He's not done growing up either; at full adulthood, Max should be 55kg (or a whooping 120lbs or so), which I know is more than a few of you reading this.
Max is also my reluctant walking buddy. It's taken some practice and determination, but we've actually made it to the nearby reservoir. (2500 steps away according to my Pokewalker.) Beyond that distance, he pulls me to the nearest covered shelter and promptly plops down on the ground, panting hard. After that we walk back. I'm not sure what keeps him from going so far, but I'm hoping we'll eventually get to the several kilometre distances Gorbash III (golden retriever) and I managed long ago.
On the topic of dogs, I have some pictures from when we brought the dogs to a flea bath last week.
( To the Groomers! )
That's all I have for that dog adventure. That day ended with me itchy and full of rashes. The joy of being an allergic dog owner.
That was recited at the end of an episode of Criminal Minds I watched last night. I've been watching a lot of television lately ever since this trip turned into one of waiting. Waiting for my Cambridge interview. Waiting for my parents to come back from their trip to KL. Waiting for my sister to come home from school every day so it becomes something more than just glorified dog-sitting.
Most of my time is spent with the dog. Maximus is a pedigree Rottweiler puppy, eight months old, and already the size of the fully-grown golden retriever that came before him. He's not done growing up either; at full adulthood, Max should be 55kg (or a whooping 120lbs or so), which I know is more than a few of you reading this.
Max is also my reluctant walking buddy. It's taken some practice and determination, but we've actually made it to the nearby reservoir. (2500 steps away according to my Pokewalker.) Beyond that distance, he pulls me to the nearest covered shelter and promptly plops down on the ground, panting hard. After that we walk back. I'm not sure what keeps him from going so far, but I'm hoping we'll eventually get to the several kilometre distances Gorbash III (golden retriever) and I managed long ago.
On the topic of dogs, I have some pictures from when we brought the dogs to a flea bath last week.
( To the Groomers! )
That's all I have for that dog adventure. That day ended with me itchy and full of rashes. The joy of being an allergic dog owner.