The Rottweiler Credo

(song playing: "Dangerous Minds"...you know why...*wink*)
AHHH...the Rottweiler such a proud, magnificent fellow.
So alluring...so loyal...

Isn't he beautiful and angelic looking?
Well, let me tell you the "REAL" truth...

As I see it...

"To Own a Rottweiler one must only learn this credo...

I will put up with holes in my carpet.
I accept that my vaccuum is a favorable dog toy, and will be replaced yearly. I will put up with torn car seat fabric and destroyed liners and patiently watch them hang on my forehead as I drive.
I accept that anywhere we move to will only have a carpet whose color matches dirt and black hair.
I will peacefully meditate through the torn trash bags where rotties have done the cha-cha.
I will patiently trip over holes in my yard big enough to bury me.
I will deal and understand my dogs zealous need to remodel every door and every wall I own.
I know that every chair leg will bear the initials of one or another puppy.
If I have small children, I shall watch pensively as my dogs do the happy dance in a chewed up (used) diaper.
I will succumb to never wearing white clothing to a dinner outing.
I will, if doubled over in labor being dragged to the delivery room, scream - let the dogs out (the labor part FOR THE LADIES only please) !
I am enlightened, I will forgive and forget many a chewed up expensive shoe.
I will not falter as my much loved Rottie thumbs his nose at
expensive dog food and yet gives gourmant respect to a turd.
I have seen the wise man and he has told me I should find humor
where there is none.
I will do so.
I am no slouch.
I AM A SUPER(MAN/WOMAN) OF THE NINETIES.
I AM SOMEBODY.
I AM A ROTTIE OWNER...

Carrie Ann"

This is humor...
I really do love my dogs.
Love 'em pickled with jalapeno.
Still want a rottie? Hmmm...read on.

Click the happy face to go back to DOGGlink!

OR...read on if you have not yet been convinced that rotties may be more than you bargained for...

before you go on....let me set the mood for you...first...RIGHT click to stop here---><----

and RIGHT click to play here ---><---

There now. All better. Ok. Read on.

So they look at you with the innocent face...sure. So those brown eyes are begging for understanding...sure. I protest I tell you!!!!! I protest loudly. If you won't be swayed, then you must read the following poem. You think that they are innocent? HA!!! Not even close.

TRUE (*wink wink*) story to follow. It is true!!! Honest. Happened to me (ahem)!

The Real Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the house every dog was asleep
in spite of the mouse. (I thought)
The furkids were nestled all snug in each crate,
with visions of rawhides and kibble and bait
and me in my jammies and Pops in his socks
had settled to watch taped football jocks
as they sauntered across the 15" inch screen
daddy yelled GO GO and me, well I just preen...
those little tight pants on those little tight butts
oh my all that padding can just drive you nuts...

But gee I digress..

At once on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter
I threw up the window and tore up the sash,
and outside a scene was clear in a flash.
And what to my wondering eyes did appear
but MY four bad rotties...and they were all drinking beer!
I rubbed at my eyes, both my fists they were clenched...
This sight was all wrong I am sure that I dreamt,
what I thought that I saw...but here's how it went:

I yelled to ole Daddy "Come quick, Pop, and see
what is out on the lawn right in front of the tree!"
Well he wouldn't be bothered away from the screen
so it was up to MY eyes to decode this strange scene.
The four naughty dogs ran to the left and the right
while throwing their beer cans all over the night.
I did not understand the meaning of this,
but my being was riveted to all this amiss.

BUT...all of a sudden it was to be cleared,
as out of the night a figure appeared.
A little fat man was dressed all in red
he bowed and then scratched his bald little head.
The dogs ran around him like bees on a hive
and I knew at once why attention they vied.

In his overstuffed pockets he had unconcealed,
rawhides, and liver and choplets of veal.
The bag on his shoulder was strapped to him tight,
and his eight reindeer's eyes bugged out with fright.
They glanced at the dogs completely unsure,
but Santa HE knew what the rotties would cure.
"Here Selmo, here Bobo, up Spazoid and Feather"
and those dumb silly dogs just hopped all together.

"HO HO HO" and his mirth it enveloped the night
as out of his pocket the goodies did light.
My rotties they anxiously gathered the treats
and left Santa unharmed to perform his feats.
With a chuckle he sprung to my roof in a flash,
and once he had jumped I caught sound of a crash.

His fat little bottom hit hard on the roof,
and I glared at Daddy who remained aloof.
My head shook in wonder as Pop watched his game.
I could see in the den where the fire dimmed its flame.
Santa squeezed in and then caught my eye
he smiled as he plopped on spent hearth with a sigh.
I ran to the den and to Santa I said:

"Why did you brave all those dogs with your sled?"
His all knowing smile told me what I knew:
the rotties love Santa, just like me and you.

His arms full of packages, he made not a smirk,
he went to the tree and got right to work,
and when he was done to the chimney he went.
He turned and he smiled at me once again.

In a blink he was gone - in the wink of an eye.
To the window I ran to catch his sleigh up and fly.
The dogs still were munching on the white-sprinkled lawn.
They looked up for a moment and then he was gone.

I rushed to the crates and flicked on the light,
and what I beheld there confounded my sight.
My brain became scrambled as around I did see,
eight innocent rottie-eyes just a-staring at me.

So bewildered I sit and excuses I make
"I had too much eggnog...twas' the rum cake I ate..."
The moral of this, dear reader I fear,
and I must endeavor to render it clear:
you just never know what those dogs will have cooking
if spotted when thinking that you are not looking...

Lest you as well be left to stupidly stare
heed this my warning, oh reader, beware:
If Santa DOES visit pets every year,
I think that it is so painfully clear...
With no shred of doubt, I must loudly say,

remember the furkids on this Christmas day!

CPRYOR '97

Click the happy face to go back to DOGGlink!

Send Email to DOGGlink by clicking the Mailbox

Last updated 08/04/99