My Lovable Dope

Last night, on our way into SF, I asked Collin what he thought of my blog thus far. I'd like to first point out that he has been nothing but supportive and even encouraging before I tell you of his slanderous lies.
"It's great, you have a strong voice....but..."
"BUT??" Please understand, that I said this with nothing but quiet patience, as is my way.
"But....I HAVE noticed that you only ever write about what you hate."

I prepared my hostile witty response, but then paused. By jove, he's right! I claim that it's because I only tend to blog when I'm at work (and WHEN, by the way, did "blog" become an acceptable verb??), so it's more than understandable that I'd sound ever so slightly cantankerous.  But this seems like a lame excuse, especially when there's so much in my life to be happy about.

Let's start with something easy: Watson.
He's a bit of an idiot, but he's also only a year old, so I'll allow him a smidgen of time to get his brain bearings up and running.  Mr. Watson Wigglesworth Stinktown, USA is his current full name, but it changes daily.  He'll answer to anything.  He's really that stupid gregarious.
Collin and I specifically searched for a dog-friendly apartment last year, with the plan of getting a dog later on in the year.  The following month, I suckered him into checking out some puppies that were available from one of the local rescue leagues* here in the East Bay.  There was a litter of 10 puppies (lab/pit mix) available, and another small litter of two shepherd puppies.  The shepherds, while freakin' adorable, really weren't all that into mingling, so we spent a little time getting to know the others.  Most of them were black, but there was this one little brown runt that would NOT stop looking at us.  Collin wanted to hold him with NO INTENTIONS OF GETTING HIM, SO DON'T EVEN LOOK AT ME THAT WAY!  He was in his lap for all of 3 seconds before the cooing began.  Needless to say, we put in an application to adopt him, and after a long, beleaguered process, we finally got to bring our little man home.
What a long trip to hell that was!
But this is a happy story, so I'll tell you of what a hellion Mr. Watson was at first at another time.  But seriously, what  a turd!
He quickly became part of the family, learned a few tricks (calmly walking on a leash is not among them), and has found a firm place in our hearts.  He also recently learned about begging, and the wondrous effects it has on strangers.
Watson loves: my underwear.  The more expensive, the better.  He also is a HUGE fan of broccoli.  Perhaps due to this love, he has also become quite fond of farting.  The closer he can be to one of us (though most often, fortunately, that would be Collin) before releasing those fumes, the better.  He loves ripping the hell out of squeaky stuffed animals (though only after the squeak has driven me to madness) and shoving their remains in the cat's face.  He loves beds.  Our bed, specifically.  He also loves pooping in the worst possible spot, such as atop our landlord's treasured rose bushes.
He hates: children.  I don't know what it is, but they scare the hell out of him.  He is also not a fan of sushi.  Though why Collin would feed the dog sushi when there is a potentially-grateful girlfriend available, is beyond me!  He's incapable of drinking out of his water dish in any manner even resembling civilized, creating what can only be described as a small pond in our kitchen.

Naming him Watson, I suppose we assumed he'd be intelligent.  He isn't.  He runs directly into walls, and he pees on steep hills, causing him to fall over when he lifts his leg, thus peeing on himself.
He's great though.  He really is.

* Smiley Dog Rescue - they're worth every penny and more. http://www.smileydogrescue.org/blueweb/index.asp