Tag Archives: Pickle

The Orange Dog

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAWe got Augie on October 23rd, 2012. It took me since we got Pickle (April of 2011) to convince Nitram that a lone dog is a lonely dog. It took Pickle and Augie five days (I thought it would be much longer) to become inseparable.

This is Day 3:

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This is Day 5:

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This is about 6 weeks later:

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Augie is a Boxer/Whippet/Pit Bull mix — about half Boxer for the most part. When we got her from a local rescue, she was 30 pounds and still suffering from mange. She looked to be about 5 years old, with a permanent worry in her face.

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Two months later she was almost 40 pounds and  fit, and one of the happiest dogs I’ve ever seen. Dr Fitch had said Augie was barely 2 years old (good teeth!) and would “fill out.” She sure did. We thought we were getting a dog only a few pounds larger than Pickle, and ended up with a 40-pound galoot who leaves muddy footprints, sand, grass, debris, and general awesomeness everywhere she goes.

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Augie also leaves farts everywhere she goes. They’re horrifying, room-clearing. I looked up Boxers and it turns out that they unfortunately have a high incidence of death by flatulence — their human’s death, that is. I’ve had to keep a bottle of natural organic lavender air freshener on the bedside table so I don’t suffocate in my sleep. I found out that Boxers also have the longest tongues of any dog, so that explains that humongous piece of sliced ham hanging about 18 inches out the side of her mouth.

We’ve taken to calling Augie the Orange Dog and Pickle the White Dog when we don’t want them to know we’re talking about them. It’s still working — they haven’t  figured out their colors yet.

I asked Nitram not too long ago if after not wanting another dog, could he ever imagine living without Augie.

He said, “No way.”

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I Am a Singularity

That’s right. A singularity. Look it up.

Not only is there just one of me, but I am unique in all other ways as well. And, there is only one of my name, as in “Pickle.” NOT “Pickles.” Just “Pickle.” P-i-c-k-l-e. Again: P-i-c-k-l-e-NO S.

Geddit?You’d better.

When people say, “Pickles?” Mom and Dad often wish they hadn’t named me Pickle. They smile and say (usually it takes more than once to get it across), “No, it’s Pickle,” while in their heads thoughts like, Do you see more than one dog here? and PickLLLL! and Just one fucking Pickle, and Asshole race around as their smiles stretch a bit thin. It’s a long story, but my name actually means something other than the sound “pick-le.” It certainly does not mean “pickles.”

I am not a plurality; I am, as I said, a singularity. After this, you shouldn’t be making a mistake about that or about my name.

Now that that’s settled, it’s blankie time.

~Pickle

The Fountain of Youth, Doggie Style


Pickle has had a couple of years shaved off her age! She is now officially 4 years old instead of the 7 the shelter had guessed, and she’ll turn 5 on June 5th, 2011. Our wonderful vet, Dr Aubrey Fitch of Bethel Veterinary Hospital, reevaluated Pickle’s age by  inspecting her teeth and coat and general demeanor. I had told Dr Fitch that everyone who meets Pickle first asks if she’s a puppy, and when I say no they ask if she’s maybe 3 or 4. Everyone has done this. Pickle doesn’t act like she’s older or near 7, and it’s been bothering me that she was stuck with an age beyond her years. Giving her a good exam and taking into consideration how long she was with her previous parents and at both shelters, 4 or 5 is about right.

So if you want to take a few years off your age, go to the vet!