The 2012 "Dog Fight"

I'd like to introduce you to someone very special to me.

Sir Mingus has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

Although I am English, I wouldn’t say I have the debonair attributes that usually go along with a distinguished title. The truth is my dark brown eyes can barely be seen for the wrinkles that surround them. My jowls sag over my lower jaw that juts out, thanks to my pronounced overbite. I snore horribly because, frankly, I can’t breathe very well through my nose due to congenital sinus issues. To top it all off, I tend to drool when I’m hungry.

Despite what you may think, I am a rather handsome fellow. My hair is a soft brown color with swatches of white that emphasize my sophistication. Everywhere I go people stop me to say hello and ask if they can be my friend. I have many friends, and those who call me friend also call me Gus.

When the doorbell rings I rush to see who stands on the other side, because inevitably they are yet another someone to see me. It’s a pleasure to shake hands and offer a gentleman’s greeting to everyone who enters my home. My door is always open and I greet everyone with a smile; albeit a smile that is a tad crooked and could be touted as every orthodontist’s dream. Braces don’t interest me, however. I believe that my misshapen smile is yet another endearing feature. In fact, never have I met a person who doesn’t think I’m charming.

Although I am usually a jovial chap, I have been told that my bark is worse than my bite. I can honestly say that, even at my grumpiest, I have never actually bitten anyone because that would not be polite. It’s with chagrin that I admit that I’ve been known to intimidate more than one stranger who didn’t expect me to greet them. I tend to growl when I’m happy rather than using the rough, ornery sound to voice my disgust. The low frightening rumble is anything but scary when I’m playing with my boys. We wrestle and I use my weight to win each new round. It’s with no small amount of pride that I can say that they tire long before I do. Tug of War is one of my favorite games, and it’s the rare occasion that I get bested. I guess you could say that along with all my cultured qualities I’m athletic as well. My entire body is muscular; from my big, round head to my legs that dig in to hold their ground against my most worthy opponent.

I guess if I had to point out a flaw, I would have to admit that I hate baths—or showers. Honestly, I hate anything that has to do with soap and water. What’s the point? I’m just going to get dirty again. Even when I stink and I’m dragged into the shower, I sit on the tiled floor and pout as the shampoo is scrubbed into my hair. Some may say my hygiene and I guess, if pressed, I might have to agree. Not that I will ever admit that to the wonderful lady who forces me to endure the torture of getting clean. And if you try to tell her, I will deny every word. 

Days are long and tend to be rather boring. I sit on the couch and drift in and out of sleep. I’d hate for the couch to get up and walk away on my watch, so I diligently hold it in place. Late in the afternoon my ears perk as I hear the thuds of running footsteps. When the front door bursts open, I jump to my feet and rush in the direction of the shouts.

“Gus!”  

“Hey, big Gus!”

“Did you have a good day?”

My entire body is overcome with excitement as my name is sung by that particular choir. Those voices announce one, and only one thing: my family is home. They love me almost as much as I love them. They rub my ears and give me treats and I wag my tail. Actually, my tail is very short and I end up shaking my entire rear-end.

I am Gus; Sir Mingus, according to those fancy, schmancy papers. I am an English Bulldog. I am loved, but I love even more.

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Tomorrow (Friday, 10/19) Gus will be in a Dog Fight.

Don't worry... It's for a good cause.

Please vote at http://caseyholloway70.wix.com/dogfight#!home/mainPage.