It’s common to joke that a pet takes after their owner, or vice versa — I’m here to bunk that thought.  Passing his 9 month birthday, my dog Auggie and I have become good pals but we can’t be mistaken for two that take after each other.  After polite poking by some friends that the blog was more about my dog than Alaska, I haven’t done an Auggie post in a while — so I am due.

For those of you new to the Bear Feed, Auggie (short for Fullthrottle Gold Rush King … believe me, that is short) is a pure bred Staffordshire Bull Terrier (or Staffie for short, see that is short).  While not a show dog (cause of a wonky ear and his “boys” have left the building), he is a good example of the breed for his age — short at just under a couple feet tall, 40 pounds, wide chested for a short dog, and similar in shape to boxers, bull dogs, and pit bulls – and is quite the cute pup with dark eyes, mostly brownish short hair w/ white patches and a black fu manchu mustache look to the face.

So let’s start there.  I am not full breed anything, not even a half breed with a wash of Norwegian, German, Scot, and a few other shades of Europe.  Sure I am short and seemingly wider than am I am taller, I tower over the pooch.  No one can mistake me for a good example of my breed, and I don’t even have a mustache.

He’s actually slight framed for his kind.  Sometimes the ribs on his chest make an appearance if he has been fairly active and not all that hungry.  I struggle a bit with getting to eat the right things, I’m not sure why, but when he is done eating he is done eating – I would stand over that half finished bowl that he can push away and I ask “how do you do that?  I’ve had the obsession to clean my plate since I was 5.” He’s fired up to exercise a lot when I get home — maybe its that I don’t nap all day, but I am not in the mood to run around in circles for hours.  He’s a runner too, I have no patience for running, and that’s all he wants to do.

Part of his expectations for me is to take him somewhere for a walk, every day.  He gets frustrated when we walk by the garage door and not head out to the car to go to the park.  When I go into the garage for anything, he sits the car door expecting it to open so he can hop in.  And heaven forbid if I open the door with no intention of going anywhere — getting him out of a the car without going somewhere is the greatest sin I could do, and he will plant hard in the front seat forcing me to drag him out of the thing.  Not that I don’t like going to the park, or going for a drive, but for me its about the journey, not the destination.  See, Auggie gets in the car quick, but when we get somewhere he is faster to get out — and he gets sick quite often in the car, including when I drove him home from the breeder for the first time.

The pup is an early bird too, more than happy to start sending word out he is ready to go outside at 4 or 5AM; and not himself if he is up past 10PM, even with napping all day.  Late night is his most confused time too.  Confusing Auggie is a passion of mine, nothing like the look of “WTF” on a dog who can’t help to stare at his daddy as he signs indy rock to him.  Well, its not just music that confuses him, turn the wrong direction in an instant and he gets the “WTF” look.

Above all else, Auggie’s personality and mine are quite opposite.  You’ll never meet a more social dog.  I joked that he thinks every human is someone who hides a treat, and his reaction is usually like that.  It can take some work to keep him seated when someone comes up to us when on a walk, and he is quick to jump up to say hi.  It takes a hell of a lot more for me to come out of my shell, but I would probably get arrested for jumping up on some girls leg unexpected.  Auggie as well is quick to cuddle, if fact he insists.  He curls around me like you would see a cat, he crawls onto my lap at a drop of a hat, and when I pull back the recliner or lay back in bed, he can sleep only right across me in someway.  His desire to be close, to lay against, to be petted is a mystery for the introvert in me.

As much as this blog is about complaining, don’t take this post today as just another one of those complaints.  The pup and I are pretty different, but I like him the way he is.  I’ll take the “WTF” looks, the eating habits, the social butterfly, the cuddling, the mustaches any day of the week.

Now if he would stop chewing up his beds, that would be nice.