In honor of the new Indian Jones movie that just came out...
Well ladies and gentlemen, it seems that stories of Rockstar seem to have touched a heartstring with my loyal readership, so in the absence of “real updates” to post, I will attempt once again to amuse you with tales of Rocky lore. Sadly, while it might sound like a lot of artistic license is being taken with these stories, I caution you that so far, they are all true. Yes, this REALLY did happen…
Many people have asked me about my sanity at the idea of being in close quarters with Rocky for weeks on end. Fortunately, given my ADD’ness and general ability to forget most anything relevant, I’ve been thinking that it can’t be THAT bad. Of course, I’m wrong. See, Rockstar has an amazing ability that MOST biologists would tell you reside only in the Mustelid family. For those unsure of just what a Mustelid is, thank your stars that you don’t know. See Mustelidae is a large family of animals that encompasses such cuties and minks and ferrets. It also contains other not so cuties like wolverines, skunks, and apparently the very elusive and rare North American Tiger Striped Retarded Boxer. To learn more, continue on!
Rocky and I had been living here in Johnson City for about four months when I learned of Rocky’s somewhat unique ability. At the time, I was renovating my house pretty much all at once, so I was living in the back bedroom. I had gotten goofball his own little bed to sleep on in the hopes he would stop attempting to use mine anytime he thought I might not notice. This pretty much meant anytime I wasn’t actually IN the bed. No one ever explained the concepts of forensics to Rocky and it probably would have been a moot point anyhow. Besides, I didn’t exactly need world class training at the Body Farm, blacklights, and a back up team from CSI: Miami to identify the thick coat of dog hair and 3.4 gallons of drool spread liberally across my pillow. Somehow, Rocky has yet to figure this out, and this is a struggle that continues to this day. Anyhow I digress… So RTD was asleep in his bed, as I was in mine. Copious amounts of drool were to be found at either place, being it was about 2:30 in the morning. Anyhow, I awoke to the sound of Rocky growling.
Now while Rockstar might be only sixty pounds, he has a growl that’s reminiscent of a crate of bowling balls turned loose in a cement truck. “Menacing” is a word that comes to mind. So is “coward” but that comes later… Well RTD growled, then got up and wandered the house, growling the whole way. I continued to attempt to sleep, and eventually he came back and began making sweet sweet doggy love to his bed again, and all was well with the world. After about fifteen minutes or so, I again woke to the sound of Rocky growling, and this time I was slightly more concerned. By slightly I mean I only cussed at him a little while rolling over and trying to get back to the land of superchargers and clapping (both things I’d like to do…)
Well I have to say now that the neighborhood I live in isn’t exactly crime ridden. The worst I have to personally experience is somebody came by and egged he Pinto Bean once. Of course I found this to be hilarious, and felt kinda bad that youth around here wasted their egg on the bean. The stain is still there today. Outside of a few random eggings, I think about as bad as it gets might be one old man going and peeing on another’s petunias in the interest of sabotaging their “Yard of the Year” award. Luckily for me, I have no petunias, and the weeds and clover I’ve so carefully cultivated here aren’t in the running this season. I tell you all this to make the point that growl or no growl, there ain’t a whole lot here to worry about. That being said, back to the story!
So Rocky again decided to get up and wander the house growling while I contemplated locking him out of the bedroom. Again. While I was busy looking for a coin to flip, I hear him come back down the hall and stop. He then growled once more much louder, and I gave up on the coin and decided to just lock his little arse out there. It was at this time that all hell broke loose! Rocky suddenly went ballistic. I suddenly went concerned. Rocky then started barking, scrambling, and huffing, all while deploying his secret defense mechanisms and going straight to DEFCON 5. North Korea crossing the DMZ would not have elicited THIS much of a response from the Rockstar. Well I immediately flipped on the light while yelling loudly at whatever was going on in the hall. In my minds’ eye I pictured Rocky fighting valiantly against masked intruders while trying hard to keep them from getting to me. I knew that my boy could be counted on to sacrifice himself if it only meant buying me and extra second or two. I also thought about the fact that my sole line of defense right now was my one good arm and the now possibly soiled pair of underoos I had on. Things might be about to go badly. Oh how right I was…
I finally got the lights all on and stepped out to the hall, where I encountered quite the site. Rocky was in full offensive glory, sixty pounds of attacking teeth, muscle and bone. At least this is what I would like to have seen. Instead RTD was sixty pounds of quivering and quaking fear, curled up wide eyed and shaking in the corner farthest from my room. My sole comfort was taken in the fact that HAD there been an intruder, they would likely be laughing so hard at this point, they might be easily overcome by the one armed man. It was at this time that my senses came face to face, so to speak, with Rocky’s last line of defense. There in the middle of the hallway was a neat circle of moisture. As I approached this little fairy ring of funk, my sense of smell was overcome by a powerful odor. This was an odor unlike anything I’d ever experienced. The great poo ponds of Afghanistan couldn’t hold a match to this. For that matter a match held to this might have caused a global catastrophe…
I ambled over to the ring of droplets and did the most regrettable and stupid thing I could think of, I touched one and took a little whiff. After my color vision returned, my nose stopped running, and my overall sense of nausea went away, I realized what I’d encountered. Rocky had forcefully, violently even, expressed his anal glands. If anyone HAD been in the house, they were likely outside burning their clothing by now, and wondering if they’d ever smell again. Rocky was still quaking in the corner, my little hero. Well I then spent the next twenty minutes or so trying to bleach and Lysol this off of the floor, much to no avail… I then went ahead and showered, hoping to at least get the smell off me. Finally, I notified the United States Geological Survey that no, we weren’t the epicenter of a great new quake, nor was the EPA really all that necessary but thanks anyhow, and headed back to bed. I looked around the next day, but never was able to find the source of RTD’s little episode.
Well anyhow, I mention all this because as I’ve learned, this has become a relatively regular Rockstar occurrence. While he no longer chases bogeymen through the house, he does make a point about every other week or so of expressing his glands. Unfortunately, he now does it while lying in bed, usually during my most peaceful nights of sleep. I now will awaken to repeated long, slow sluuuuuuuuuuuuuurping sounds of RTD attempting to either cover up the evidence, or freshen his breath. At that sound I just get up and boot him out of the room, then bury my head deep into a pillow and cry a little. Rocky just goes out in the hall, hops on the couch where he’s not supposed to be and happily goes to sleep, mission accomplished.
Well ladies and gentlemen, it seems that stories of Rockstar seem to have touched a heartstring with my loyal readership, so in the absence of “real updates” to post, I will attempt once again to amuse you with tales of Rocky lore. Sadly, while it might sound like a lot of artistic license is being taken with these stories, I caution you that so far, they are all true. Yes, this REALLY did happen…
Many people have asked me about my sanity at the idea of being in close quarters with Rocky for weeks on end. Fortunately, given my ADD’ness and general ability to forget most anything relevant, I’ve been thinking that it can’t be THAT bad. Of course, I’m wrong. See, Rockstar has an amazing ability that MOST biologists would tell you reside only in the Mustelid family. For those unsure of just what a Mustelid is, thank your stars that you don’t know. See Mustelidae is a large family of animals that encompasses such cuties and minks and ferrets. It also contains other not so cuties like wolverines, skunks, and apparently the very elusive and rare North American Tiger Striped Retarded Boxer. To learn more, continue on!
Rocky and I had been living here in Johnson City for about four months when I learned of Rocky’s somewhat unique ability. At the time, I was renovating my house pretty much all at once, so I was living in the back bedroom. I had gotten goofball his own little bed to sleep on in the hopes he would stop attempting to use mine anytime he thought I might not notice. This pretty much meant anytime I wasn’t actually IN the bed. No one ever explained the concepts of forensics to Rocky and it probably would have been a moot point anyhow. Besides, I didn’t exactly need world class training at the Body Farm, blacklights, and a back up team from CSI: Miami to identify the thick coat of dog hair and 3.4 gallons of drool spread liberally across my pillow. Somehow, Rocky has yet to figure this out, and this is a struggle that continues to this day. Anyhow I digress… So RTD was asleep in his bed, as I was in mine. Copious amounts of drool were to be found at either place, being it was about 2:30 in the morning. Anyhow, I awoke to the sound of Rocky growling.
Now while Rockstar might be only sixty pounds, he has a growl that’s reminiscent of a crate of bowling balls turned loose in a cement truck. “Menacing” is a word that comes to mind. So is “coward” but that comes later… Well RTD growled, then got up and wandered the house, growling the whole way. I continued to attempt to sleep, and eventually he came back and began making sweet sweet doggy love to his bed again, and all was well with the world. After about fifteen minutes or so, I again woke to the sound of Rocky growling, and this time I was slightly more concerned. By slightly I mean I only cussed at him a little while rolling over and trying to get back to the land of superchargers and clapping (both things I’d like to do…)
Well I have to say now that the neighborhood I live in isn’t exactly crime ridden. The worst I have to personally experience is somebody came by and egged he Pinto Bean once. Of course I found this to be hilarious, and felt kinda bad that youth around here wasted their egg on the bean. The stain is still there today. Outside of a few random eggings, I think about as bad as it gets might be one old man going and peeing on another’s petunias in the interest of sabotaging their “Yard of the Year” award. Luckily for me, I have no petunias, and the weeds and clover I’ve so carefully cultivated here aren’t in the running this season. I tell you all this to make the point that growl or no growl, there ain’t a whole lot here to worry about. That being said, back to the story!
So Rocky again decided to get up and wander the house growling while I contemplated locking him out of the bedroom. Again. While I was busy looking for a coin to flip, I hear him come back down the hall and stop. He then growled once more much louder, and I gave up on the coin and decided to just lock his little arse out there. It was at this time that all hell broke loose! Rocky suddenly went ballistic. I suddenly went concerned. Rocky then started barking, scrambling, and huffing, all while deploying his secret defense mechanisms and going straight to DEFCON 5. North Korea crossing the DMZ would not have elicited THIS much of a response from the Rockstar. Well I immediately flipped on the light while yelling loudly at whatever was going on in the hall. In my minds’ eye I pictured Rocky fighting valiantly against masked intruders while trying hard to keep them from getting to me. I knew that my boy could be counted on to sacrifice himself if it only meant buying me and extra second or two. I also thought about the fact that my sole line of defense right now was my one good arm and the now possibly soiled pair of underoos I had on. Things might be about to go badly. Oh how right I was…
I finally got the lights all on and stepped out to the hall, where I encountered quite the site. Rocky was in full offensive glory, sixty pounds of attacking teeth, muscle and bone. At least this is what I would like to have seen. Instead RTD was sixty pounds of quivering and quaking fear, curled up wide eyed and shaking in the corner farthest from my room. My sole comfort was taken in the fact that HAD there been an intruder, they would likely be laughing so hard at this point, they might be easily overcome by the one armed man. It was at this time that my senses came face to face, so to speak, with Rocky’s last line of defense. There in the middle of the hallway was a neat circle of moisture. As I approached this little fairy ring of funk, my sense of smell was overcome by a powerful odor. This was an odor unlike anything I’d ever experienced. The great poo ponds of Afghanistan couldn’t hold a match to this. For that matter a match held to this might have caused a global catastrophe…
I ambled over to the ring of droplets and did the most regrettable and stupid thing I could think of, I touched one and took a little whiff. After my color vision returned, my nose stopped running, and my overall sense of nausea went away, I realized what I’d encountered. Rocky had forcefully, violently even, expressed his anal glands. If anyone HAD been in the house, they were likely outside burning their clothing by now, and wondering if they’d ever smell again. Rocky was still quaking in the corner, my little hero. Well I then spent the next twenty minutes or so trying to bleach and Lysol this off of the floor, much to no avail… I then went ahead and showered, hoping to at least get the smell off me. Finally, I notified the United States Geological Survey that no, we weren’t the epicenter of a great new quake, nor was the EPA really all that necessary but thanks anyhow, and headed back to bed. I looked around the next day, but never was able to find the source of RTD’s little episode.
Well anyhow, I mention all this because as I’ve learned, this has become a relatively regular Rockstar occurrence. While he no longer chases bogeymen through the house, he does make a point about every other week or so of expressing his glands. Unfortunately, he now does it while lying in bed, usually during my most peaceful nights of sleep. I now will awaken to repeated long, slow sluuuuuuuuuuuuuurping sounds of RTD attempting to either cover up the evidence, or freshen his breath. At that sound I just get up and boot him out of the room, then bury my head deep into a pillow and cry a little. Rocky just goes out in the hall, hops on the couch where he’s not supposed to be and happily goes to sleep, mission accomplished.
1 comment:
Tears of laughter here
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