Today is Mutt's Day. Today is the day to celebrate your half- and mixed-breed dogs. The #1 mutt in my life is my darling Stuart, a (mostly) Miniature Pinscher....his DNA test (yes, you read that right) says he's 25% Boston Terrier. Regardless of what biology says, he is definitely a unique creature all his own. His personality is unparalleled -- defininitely unlike any dog I've ever seen. He is a mixture of super smart and super stupid, and he is completely dysfunctional, but ultimately, he has been right by my side since the day I brought him home. He's definitely a momma's boy.
Stuart was a rescue; he was picked up in a field and was nearly crushed by a tractor mower. The instant I saw his face, I knew I couldn't say no to him. He lost his leg after a series of fractures and failed healings -- moments I will never, ever forget. He has endured multiple surgeries in his young life, along with having to tolerate two other pups that annoyed him, and eventually relocating with me....without the other companions. He's been dressed up as a cowboy, Santa Claus, a surfer dude, Spiderman, a skunk......poor thing has been forced to live through the torture of an owner who thinks it's funny to make her dog look as silly as possible and then laugh at his expense.
He's cracked his head more times than I can even count, and that has prompted a long-running joke of getting him a helmet for Christmas. I might actually fulfill that this year.
Stuart lives a good life: I feed him, walk him outside to shit, and he gets to sleep in between my legs...it's truly any guy's dream, right? He loves squeaky toys, but tires of them rather quickly...one minute he's showing it who's boss, then the next minute, he's pushing it out of his way so he can plop down on the nearest nest of blankets or stack of pillows.
The funniest thing about Stuart is that he is racist. I swear to God. He hates people who aren't white. Now before you say anything about him being taught that behavior, stop yourself. I never taught him to hate anything or anybody. He was that way from the get-go.
As I type this, he's lying here next to me, curled up in his blanket burrito wondering when he's going to get his last potty trip of the night so we can go to bed. Stuart is definitely the closest thing to a kid I have, and I love him dearly. Happy Mutt's Day, Stuart.
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