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'Kuma trying to look serious--or just about ready to burb and/or fart. |
This morning, while I was cheering our
big baby on to completing breakfast, which can be a chore when eight cups on food is the norm, I was watching how they scare away bears with dogs. As a kid I watched
Grizzley Adams, which was somewhat tainted when I saw him on Cathouse--anyway, I always marveled how he controlled the big beast. Now I wonder how I control the big beast, as even bears are afraid of dogs, and our boy is quite big. He may be the youngest (or perhaps the 2nd youngest) member of the family, but he's 85x the mass of the
eldest. This all has been put to the test lately, as we've tried taking the boys out for a little exercise, so that grandma and grandpa can walk their
grandpups when they comes to visit.
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Stuart is our little dog. His bark is worse than his bite (but not his breath) |
Let's just say it's easier said than done. Being that I'm enormous myself, I kinda inherited the big boy (a
St Bernard btw), while Liz, being a petite gal, gets the petite pup (no easy chore being a
snooty basset hound). It all went well, save for a yelping dog who the
gentle giant may have stepped on (the dog may have just shit himself when he realized how big 'Kuma is up close), then again I yelp when I can't get my feet out of the way of his mammoth paws. I suppose the big bubba is more of a suitable fit for me than my little
yorkie I used to walk around campus in Gainesville.
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