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Saturday, March 8, 2014

What Defines a Bully?

                                We do put sunscreen on his nose every day.

Our lovely man had just arrived to clean up the jungle in our back yard and I asked him if he’d like me to put Borat, our woolly mammoth of a German Shepherd, in the pool area to allow him easy access through the side gate so he could lug various palm fronds out to his trailer without disturbance.

Willy the terrier, an aficionado of escapism antics, was also in the forefront of my mind so I decided he would have to be locked away for his own safety as well. 

As I let the big boys onto the back patio an uncompromising Chihuahua by the name of Pablo Escobark tore out of the house with misplaced vengeance and aggressively fronted all up in Borat’s grill, barking violently in the shepherd’s snout,

“You theenk you’re so tough Holmes? What you goieeng to dooo?? Huh? Huh? Come on... fight me you seeesy!"

The gigantic shepherd turned away like the defendant who’s been well tutored by his lawyer. But onward the belligerent Mexican midget relentlessly harangued,

“Just because you the beegest doesn’t mean you da boss! I will cut you Esay! I will cut you beeg time!”

Suddenly the Shepherd, tired of the taunts, snapped and cornered the nasty little Latino against the water feature.

Pinky stood in frozen horror as her two fur babies recreated a scene from a terrifying Stephen King movie.

Little Pablo was trapped, screaming in distress and agony, but his screams were drowned out by a performance a la Pinky which would make Sarah Michelle Geller cringe in shame. 
Hearing Pinky's hysterical shrieks,the gardener came running and he witnessed her desperately attempting to wrestle the tiny parcel of South American Chilli Dog from the giant Beowulf's salivating jaws.

Eventually the Shepherd let go and Pablo hobbled whimpering and damaged into the house. Pinky locked the huge, murderous hound in the pool area and went to seek out the injured victim, frightened at what she’d find.

A bloody pulp of Chihuahua necessitating an urgent trip to the emergency weekend vet, perhaps? The thought was sickening.

Astoundingly, Pablo was intact. Not one single abrasion. Not a hair out of place, in fact.

My first instinct was the Shepherd must go. We’d find a nice home for him. We couldn’t possibly have such an aggressive animal in situ at Chez Poinker. What if children came to visit and the same thing happened to a child… but worse?

Then I thought about it more closely. Borat could have easily snapped Pablo’s neck if he’d chosen. One assertive bite from his jaws would have been a decisive finale to the Chihuahua’s short but hostile existence.

Instead, my beautiful German Shepherd decided to give the little b#stard a bit of a fright, teach him a lesson about respect and let the little sh#t live.

I know who the true bully was.

                                    Pablo Escobark

I love my German Shepherd.