November 2007 Sincerely Sire Newsletter

A Hundred Bucks Says My 

Dog Is Cuter Than Your Dog!

Okay, I realize I could end up in the doghouse for this, but my dog, Finn—short for Finnegan—what an incredibly cute name! Don’t you think?—is cuter than your dog. I’m sorry, but she just is. I know it’s painful, but just accept it and move on.

First of all, Finn, or Finny as we sometimes affectionately call her, is a Boston Terrier. Major cuteness. Pointed ears, bulging lachrymose eyes, big square head, bulldog floppy lips, big tongue and shiny black coat with white paws and chest. Two-years-old—perfect age—twenty pounds—perfect weight—of pure cute.

Now if you happen to have a Boston Terrier, which very few people do, I might add, you may be in the running, but my Boston is still the cutest because she does so many incredibly cute things. Here are just a few of them for your consideration:

#1 - She tilts her head when we talk to her. Cocks it all the way to one side, and then all the way to the other, at the beginning of each new sentence. She does this every time we have a serious conversation with her. She is sooo cute. 

#2 - When I’m eating anything and sitting on the sofa, she carefully comes up behind me, on the back of the couch, and very politely and courteously lays her body down on the back cushion, turns her head sideways and gently, with a genuinely loving touch, lays her head down on my chest, just over my collar bone and next to my jaw. She waits there patiently while I eat as she follows my fork, back and forth, back and forth, into and out of my mouth, with her nose just the thickness of a sheet of paper from my fork, but never, ever, touching or eating the food on my fork. Only after I remove a morsel of food from my plate with my fingers, and formally present it to her, does she give it a perfunctory sniff, ever-so-gingerly open her mouth, and then, and only then, graciously accept her recompense—occasionally she drools on my plate, but that is an involuntary action and therefore does not count against her.

#3 – When Roe is sitting on the couch in the family room and I put a brown paper bag on my head and growl and flail my arms at Finn, she bravely stays in the room with her hair all up on her back and neck for as long as she can bear it, howling and barking to protect Roe, but ultimately abandons her and bails by bolting out her doggie door. She’s ninety-nine percent sure I’m only playing, but still, she’s not taking any chances. Cowardly but cute.

#4 – Okay, here’s the last one. I mean, I could go on forever, she is sooo cute, but I only have room for one more. 

Finn loves her rawhide bones, the ones that are about the size of a Sharpie highlighter only a little longer. We buy her big bags of them. She is allowed one per night. We keep them in the pantry just to the right of the TV. If we forget to give Finn her bone, she stands right in front of, and directly under, our big screen TV and stares straight at us as we watch the television. She stands at attention, ears pointed sharply upward with her eyes bulging at us. She doesn’t make a sound or move a muscle except to slowly turn her head from side-to-side alternately looking each of us straight in the eye.

When she first started doing this we couldn’t figure out what she was doing or why she was doing it which caused us to yell at her during commercial breaks, “What are you doing!? What do you want you crazy dog!? 

Then one night after staring at us for an entire segment of Grey’s Anatomy, she took a small step toward the pantry, sniffed under the door, and shot us a look. The humans on the couch finally figured it out. The bones. The bones. Our dog was a—“bonehead.”

The problem now, like anyone with an addiction, is that one bone isn’t enough anymore. She devours her nightly bone in minutes now and then is back at her post staring straight at us again. Perfectly still, seemingly at peace with herself—staring, staring, always staring at us. I told Roe we should have named her Gandhi. Very nerve-wracking and very annoying, but, you’ll agree, very cute.

So, that’s why I think know my dog is cuter than your dog. But, if you still think, after all this, that your dog is cuter than my dog, send an email to me at: joeroe@sireteam.com, or write me, and tell me why. All entries should start like this: “Sorry Joe, but my dog is cuter than your dog because…” Include a picture if you think it will help. Give me just one example of your dog’s cuteness, and you could win $100 cash and a free visit to The Doggie Spa—for your dog, not you—worth an additional $50. If you want to see what you’re up against, go to SireTeam.com and click on “Our Dog Finn” at upper left to see the cutest the dog ever! 

All submissions must be received by December 10, 2007 and the winner will be determined by a random drawing. So, go ahead, after talking with your dog first, send in a submission; she/he/it could make you a hundred bucks and that’s pretty cute.