the dog version of jenga

Captain Riley Pants* is a pretty good puppy. He’s 14 months old and is pretty much the best roommate ever, except for the tiny white hairs absolutely everywhere.

He knows both verbal and hand signals for sit, shake, lay down, and stay. He obeys “Leave it” like it’s the law of the land, and as much as I’m slightly embarassed to admit it, he also knows the command “hug”. I figured it wouldn’t hurt him to know that since he doesn’t have any balls anyway, right?

There’s just one thing he’s never been able to do, and that’s leave something on his nose for any amount of time. Pupcorn, pieces of Kraft American singles, bits of hot dog, a sock, you name it – there’s just nothing touching that smooshed-in snout of his.

Today, as I do everyday, I read Dooce. I then watched Chuck balance chicken jerkey on his head. 16 pieces of it. And, then I had to watch the Japanese dog balance 32 pieces of something on his head. They seem to have the food-balancing-on-the-head market nailed, so I’m going to try something new. I just haven’t figured it out yet.
*I’m trying a new one out since Little Riley Fancy Pants kind of implies he’s gay, and since he got two dog-boners around a female dog, the jury is still out on my puppy’s sexual orientation. But whatever it is, I’ll love him all the same.