In Defense of the Brindle

I think some people have gotten the idea, mostly from my facebook status updates, that the Brindle is a bad dog. I want to dispel that notion. The Brindle is not necessarily bad, he is however a prime example of the mischievous and somewhat devious nature of the true Boxer.

I remember many years ago when I was attending puppy kindergarten class with my first Boxer, the Princess. The instructor asked me why I was there and I responded that I had never had a dog before and now I had this wee brindle monster that was literally bouncing up and down in front of me. I needed to learn how to make her a polite, well mannered member of dog society. The instructor's eyes got big and she said "You never had a dog before and you got a BOXER?!" Then to the rest of the class, "Boxers slow down when they die or go into a coma, whichever comes first." She wasn't wrong. The Princess is nearly 12 and last I saw her she was still a little fireball of energy and toughness, just take a look:



Bless her wee brindle heart.

But the Brindle... he's a Boxer of a different stripe. The males just tend to be goofier and he takes even that to a whole new level. He will be five in August and shows no signs of being a grown up any time soon. He just likes to be busy and if that means that if he needs a milk carton or a loaf of bread behind the hedge, well he's going to find a way to take it. If it means that he needs to tuck a bar of soap or a tube of toothpaste into his bed, he'll be taking that too.

As I pointed out to my friend this week, for all that he is a kleptomaniac he has never (touch wood) destroyed anything of value. As for this being a new hobby. The fact is that at the old house if he attempted these sorts of thefts I would have heard him. This place is so big that if he and I are at opposite ends of the house I really have no idea that he committing another theft.

Is the Brindle a well mannered member of dog society? In a way. He doesn't know how big he is so he tends to be a bit rough with other dogs. He's also protective of me around other large dogs because he senses that I'm nervous around them. But he does know his basic commands, sit, stay, down, leave it. He will pee on command, a wonderful tool for travel. He walks well on a leash with only the occasional reminder to keep the leash loose and even that is only when the good smells get to be too much for him. He is after all a dog.

So all in all I really don't want people thinking he's a bad dog, he's not at all. He's simply a silly, irreverent, wonderful example of the male of the Boxer species.

And besides, how could you not love this face:

Separate Vacations (aka the Brindle gets a new girl)

Vacations are good for both the Brindle and I. We get a break from the castle and each other.

This time around I put in a little extra effort to find him someplace just a bit better to hang out at. After I dropped him off I announced via facebook that the Brindle would be spending eight days at Flemish camp, where I had seen a Boxer with a tail. Yes, it's Europe and tail docking is illegal in most places. The Boxer tail in it's natural state is long and whip like, as would befit their otherwise notoriously mischievous and occasionally destructive nature. My greatest concern on walking out was that the Brindle might be returned to me suffering from tail envy, but more on that lovely tailed creature in a bit.

I have to admit to a little bit of awe when I walked into Marcodia's Pet Hotel, or as it says on the sign Dierenhotel. The place is absolutely beautiful, any dog in their right mind would be thrilled to spend some time there. Hell, I'd spend the night there without much trouble. The indoor rooms are big and bright, the outside runs are equally wonderful and they have an awning system they put up in the summer to give added shade to the runs. The dogs go out every two hours, to do their duties, so lots of human interaction and if they're up to it they can play with the other dogs. Max couldn't. What I was told was that he was possessive of the staff and jealous of the other dogs, she said they see it often in Boxers. When I mentioned that some Boxers only like other Boxers she agreed and said that he was fine with the girl Boxer that was there. Yes, that's right, the Brindle may just have had himself a little camp romance.

Marcodia's have a wonderful website including a photo gallery, feel free to check them out.

And where was I while the Brindle was off being his usual galoot like self in such a lovely place? Well Florida of course.

Hanging out on the beach soaking up the sun and just generally thinking about nothing. My comment at one point during the week? "It's really nice to go on a vacation where I don't worry about work and I don't have a cell phone to drag around with me." The plan for the week was a whole lot of nothing because I just don't consider myself a tourist any more. The beverage of choice was the margarita with this little baby being from the Smokin' Oyster Brewery at Fort Myers Beach.



I got in a little tv from time to time including two whole hockey games! That was part of the to do list as were trips to Bath & Body Works, Total Wine, Target, a hair cut and a new pair of sandals that turned into two pairs. And of course, the requisite pedicure that I ended up getting during my layover at the Philadelphia airport. I love that place!

I had a wonderful time, I didn't want to come back and I wish I was back there right now. (go Powerball tickets!) In the meantime I'm going to hold this image in my brain until the next trip.

Loaves, Sans Fishes

There is no way to continue this blog with out telling the Brindle’s first Belgian story. It happened a mere ten days after his arrival and remains the most unique of his adventures.

He arrived, delivered to the very battlements of the castle, on a Friday accompanied by the green dragon. Poor boy was tired, confused and didn’t smell very nice. As indication of how exhausted he was, he actually allowed me to give him a bath, right there in the courtyard.

He was a needy fellow that first week. He didn’t much care for being left alone, he stuck close and slept a lot. By the next weekend though he was finding his feet, all four of them. He had inspected and approved his yard, especially the perpetually open door that let him roam at will. That Sunday he held court for the first time, making himself available for his first visitors. He was, as always, the ultimate in hospitality and entertainment, sharing his toys and demonstrating his repertoire of tricks. Company stayed for dinner and left, through the garden gate



which I presumed to be closed. I was of course wrong.

The following day was Monday, I returned from work and opened the garden door so the Brindle could do his daily inspection. I went off to do other things, still unpacking and organizing and it was probably an hour or so before I realized that he hadn’t been back to check up on me, unusual for him. Just as that thought crossed my mind I heard him pounding through the house. He loped into the room and flopped on his blanket, a baguette in his mouth.

The Brindle is a grain free gentleman and I would prefer that he not be feasting on loaves of bread so I removed it from his drooling jowls and headed off to the kitchen to dispose of it. While I was walking a light bulb came on and I realized, I had never bought a baguette since moving to the Castle. This led me to the garden where I found the gate standing open.

This means that the Brindle had gone out through the gate, into the village and absconded with his snack from one of my neighbours. I spent the remainder of the evening waiting for the doorbell to ring, someone come to complain about the ill mannered galoot I had imported to the country. It never came.

To this day I have never found out where he got that baguette from but his addiction to all forms of bread remains. Most recently I had picked up a fresh loaf of multi grain from the local bakery and when I came back to the house I had put it on the dryer with my purse, lunch bag and a bottle of vanilla cognac. Some time later when I went to retrieve it while the other items remained where they were the bread was gone. The only conclusion to be drawn was that it came to reside in a particular brindle belly.