So, my idiot golden retriever started a fight with my 185 po..
🕑 Added 2018-08-11 06:54:21 +0000 UTC
So, my idiot golden retriever started a fight with my 185 pound German rot. Sir Kenneth, the moron, wanted the bone the Colonel was chewing on, while Simba was relaxing by my feet. I, at my desk, editing these artsy fartsy pictures, didn't think anything of the snapping until Sir Kenneth backed this massive German rot into the wall, under my desk. I'm actively restraining my naturally foul mouth at the moment.
Colonel Simba is a massive, gigantic canine. Sir Kenneth was the runt of his litter. He is a purebred, AKC registered, but, he was the runt.
The Colonel was a police dog.....get ready for the story of the day......his handler died and he refused to work with anyone else, went into a canine depression. The PD retired him and allowed my ex husband, a former (now disgraced) police officer, to adopt him. He gave me Simba as a gift. It's safe to say that my German rot is exceptionally well trained, is a meticulous guard dog. He patrols the house, he attaches himself to my hip like a shadow. More than any of his skills, Simba is exceptionally restrained. Even in the face of a confrontation, with another dog. It's almost as if he knows his dangerous strength and will not expose another animal to his wrath. I've watched him, over the years, completely abstain from fighting or aggression, unless he thinks family is in danger.
Moving on, Sir Kenneth, assh*le, backed Simba up, under my desk and began a fight. Imagine a giant dog restraining himself while being actively fought. The Colonel barked a single bark and Sir Kenneth hit his head on the lip of my desk. When this seconds-long event concluded, Sir Kenneth is leaking red, everywhere. Immediately, I panic. There's red everywhere- my carpet, my walls, my floor. I send him outside to call family. I don't know what to do.
My family tells me to spray bleach on the red, before it dries, and to check Kenneth for an injury. In that short period of time, he managed to decorate the windows and back door of my house with red. Naturally, I'm getting ready to jet him to the vet. He takes his messy ass inside, and goes to the water bowl. After a few minutes when he'd had enough water, his face and fur were completely clean. I had no idea where the red came from. This mother*cker had me in a blind panic he was dying, got red EVERYWHERE, and he then looked perfectly fine. This dickhead.
Now, the red has been cleaned up, I'm back to work on these photos, and Sir Kenneth learned a valuable lesson- just because a giant is gentle, don't test his bark. Next time, the Colonel might react with a nip.
***disclaimer-both dogs are fine. the dumb fucker bit his tongue. There's no more red.***
