Being an Animal House resident is a tough job. The house is always full of people just looking for a good time. However, the house is usually left trashed and occasional theft occurs causing us to actually start acting like animals because we are angry.
For me personally, the burden is largely due to the fact I live off of the living room. I decided enough was enough … I got a bull mastiff puppy. She’s only 11 weeks old, but she’s going to grow to be the size of a horse. Oh, and it’s probably also important to note: This is my first puppy.
I’ve only had her for less than 24 hours and here’s what I’ve learned:
This dog will be huge. I’m talking fridge size. She already weighs close to 40 pounds. Her dad looks to be about the size of Rick Ross and I do believe that if he were a human he would for sure have Type 2 diabetes by now.
She has a bladder that would give the Old Faithful geyser a run for its money. I’ve never really witnessed something that can produce this amount of liquid over such small amounts of time. I can only make a hypothesis when I say that this must be what the BP oil spill looked like.
Leash training is something that she’s just not into. My dog seems to really enjoy doing her best impression of Buddha when I attempt to walk her. She gives me a look that says, “Nah Phil, I’d rather lay here and look cute while you stand there like a dumbass as your friends walk by.”
As I mentioned earlier, she’s my first dog. I already love her to death but I am concerned if I am doing this correctly or I am attempting a feat similar to getting Lindsay Lohan to become straight edge. Although she’s my first dog, she is not my first pet. I currently own two aquatic turtles (named one Crush because that’s the chillest turtle). I raised leopard geckos from eggs. I love reptiles. My baby bull mastiff is my first mammal.
Ironically, she does allow me to do work on my Macbook. As I type this, she is lying on my feet asleep and looks to be content. So I suppose she doesn’t loathe me or my elementary approach to training.
One thing I do know is that she knows I am her owner. I carried her back from College Street to the Animal House last night when I bought her because she hates leashes. She gave me a look that I have never received from another living creature, including humans. She surrendered to me and looked at me with trust. It honestly melted my heart.
Phil Morehead is a senior studying health services administration and a columnist for The Post. Email him at firstname.lastname@example.org.