Slate examines the psychology of racist dogs. Fortunately, Berkeley doesn’t have this problem – he barks madly at anybody with the temerity to knock on my door, regardless of race (along with any random forces of evil passing through.)
Tag: Dogs
Raise the Roof.
A very happy birthday to Berkeley, who turns three today. Since that’s 21 in dog years, I expect all kinds of shenanigans in the apartment this evening while I’m out tutoring.
There is no bone.
Hmmm…let’s see how Zen this dog is once we get some bacon in the room, or for that matter, when Berkeley starts yelping at him for absolutely no reason in particular. Then I’ll be impressed. (Sent via High Industrial.)
Dogs of War.
The Village Voice scrutinizes the social habits of the military-industrial complex. (Not to judge a story by its cover, but this article, interesting on its own terms, also features a cartoon of dogs playing poker, which I must admit is a trope I’m particularly fond of.)
Redneck Justice.
I’ve meant to link to this horrifying Tennessee state trooper incident for the past few days, but every time I read it I am filled with a fearsome rage. They shot the dog?!? Those frelling chumps…I’m not normally of an eye-for-an-eye persuasion, but that pathetic redneck excuse for an officer should really have to suffer for this, and I don’t mean monetarily. This guy’s gotta do some time. Grrrr…
Mind-Reading Mutts.
Take that, cat lovers. Scientists delve deeper into the inextricable links between humans and dogs. But, if this is true, why can’t I convince Berkeley to stop chewing the comforter?
Music soothes the savage Berk.
No, according to these guys, it really does. There’s no question Berkeley‘s a lot more docile with “The Breaking of the Fellowship” on or somesuch. And when “Where’s Your Head at?” is blaring, he knows it’s time to jump up and down and run around in circles. (Via Follow Me Here.)
Dog Confessional.
Don’t sleep on the Berk.
A new study finds dogs have higher language and math skills than you’d think.
What’s that, boy? Timmy got soaked in a rainstorm?
So Berk and I went to the dog park as usual this sweltering morning and, not five minutes after we get there, he starts whimpering and pawing at the gate – something I’ve never seen him do before. So we leave, and he basically drags me home at a full clip the whole ten minutes. Just as we get to the doorstep, the sky splits open and a wicked thunderstorm emerges right on top of us. Vast sheets of rain and thunder so nearby I’m expecting a power outage any minute. It’s nice sometimes to have a PreCog dog.