Sherman is typically a social butterfly. He loves people, particularly ladies, and he is ecstatic any time he gets to play with other dogs who are willing to play with him. After all, how could you not love this face, whether you’re canine or hominid?
Maybe because he’s so used to being loved by everyone he meets, or maybe because he’s too dumb to figure it out when someone (human or critter) doesn’t actually like him, Sherman tends to respond to nastiness by brushing off the snark or by simply being dumbfounded. He truly can’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to tighten his soft ears. When he shows someone his belly for a rib scrub and nothing happens, he blinks expectantly and looks hurt. I’m not saying people should jump to scratch Sherman in his favourite places whenever he’d like some attention; in fact, I’m of the camp that believes praise and attention should be earned by the dog doing something good, like sitting or being calm before affection is granted, but it’s clear Sherman just has so much love to give he’s busting at the seams. Or perhaps his ears are perpetually loose: either way, he’s a sucky baby.
His love for living things means Sherman is often on the losing end when other creatures don’t have the same ideas he does. Case in point: his interaction with another dog this weekend. To set the stage, imagine a barbeque with lots of people milling about on my brother’s acreage. People were in a good mood, a fire was crackling away, and the air was clear for one of the first evenings in the last few weeks. One of the other dogs at the gathering was racing about with Sherman, and while Sherm seemed to think they were dashing together as buddies, it was clear the other (much smaller dog) believed he was putting the run on Sherman. Picture a Jack Russell Terrier, and a small one at that, herding a 70 lb. spotted dog around and around the yard.
Interestingly, someone commented that Sherman looks considerably bigger in real life than he does on the internet. I thought the camera was supposed to add ten pounds, and it always has for me, but perhaps our doggy friends are minimized when digitized. I don’t know, but I wish I could figure out how to publish a sleeker me.
When I called Sherman over to stop the sprinting before the two dogs knocked someone down, he reluctantly loped to me, the little black and white dog still nipping determinedly at his heels. Sherman sat and presented his ears for tightening, ridiculous tongue flopping out the side of his jaw. The terrier–eager still to assert his dominance over a dog at least six times his size–circled around, clambered his front paws onto the top of Sherman’s head, and, before I realized what he was planning, began vigorously humping Sherman’s face.
In case you missed that, I said he was humping Sherman’s face: with gusto. You’re welcome for the mental image.
I don’t know whether I should be relieved my dog is so eager to please that he didn’t react at all to the violation, or be dismayed that he didn’t deal with the situation himself. I had to pry the furiously thrusting dog off poor Sherm’s skull. Jack Russell Terriers are stronger than they look, let me tell you. Sheesh. When his face was freed, the poor spotted one just looked stunned, like, what the heck was that?
Sherman, Sherman, I realize you were neutered before you could figure out any of those “facts of life” details, but believe me when I tell you, you really don’t want to know what that was.
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