Welcome to The Boxer Dog Stories
Specs Dogs is a collection of boxer dog stories told from the eyes of Brix, the boxer dog. He is also known as the B-Stud. From these boxer stories, we learn of the joys and pains of puppy-hood to adult life. Along the way, boxer dog and owner learn to strengthen their human to canine bond thru training, playing and just being plain silly. Enjoy!
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Wednesday, October 21, 2009
"What da f*ck! Who da f*ck! You mutha piece of f*ck! How da f*ck...why da f*ck..."
After hearing Dad, I didn't dare ask him what the word f*ck meant. Up to this day I still don't get what it means.
It was late Thursday night, around 9:30, when we went to visit the Parcon pack. Dad parked the car in front their house, on the side of the street, in front of the driveway. The Parcon driveway was full that night. We had only stayed for an hour when we returned to the car. Dad and I walked together. When he opened the door to let me jump in, I heard him cursing like their was no tomorrow. Mom was still inside the house.
"Dad what happened? Ok just cool your briefs Dad." I tried to calm him down but was scared at the same time. By now, Mom had come out.
"OHHH sh*t!" Mom yelled. That's another word I don't know. Mom ran back into the house to call the others to see. Grandpa Parcon, Grandma Parcon and brother Parcon came to look. Grandpa Parcon spoke first.
"I know it's number 20 (the house across the street). Those guys. Call the police." Then brother Parcon began to speak.
"They reversed their car right into the bumper and didn't even turn their wheel. What idiots!."
Dad knelt down to look at the damage. The rear side bumper was cracked and scratched with horizontal marks. We could barely make out the paint colour from the car that hit us. The quarter panel was bent inwards about 2 inches. The tail light was also cracked. The damage, they estimated, to be upwards of $2000.
The next day Dad reported the accident to the collision center and also confronted the neighbours across the street.
"Uh..no. We don't have any damage to our cars. Here, have a look. We don't know anything about the accident.." Figures. WIth no luck, the police report classified it as a fail to remain. A couple days later brother Parcon said he saw the car that hit us. The car had gone missing a few days and finally returned, with a new paint job to their bumper. Dad checked it out, but had no hard evidence to link them to the crime scene. (too much CSI)
So off to the body shop the Civic went and in came the rented car. Dad wasn't happy again. The rental car was a Dodge Caliber.
"At least give me something comparable." Dad kept his comments to himself and also kept an open mind. To be honest, I liked the Caliber. It was more roomy than the CIvic and I could look out the back window better.
Dad's luck ran out again when the next day he noticed the windshield had a small crack in the corner. It must have been a rock that had hit the windshield.
"What da f*ck! Who da f*ck! You mutha piece of f*ck! How da f*ck...why da f*ck..." Here we god again.
"They say it comes in threes." That's what Dad was told when he went to Speedy Glass to get it fixed.
"Let's just hope the third isn't a speeding ticket." Dad replied.
So it's been over a week and Dad is finally just cheering up a little. The bodyshop called him to let him know the car was ready. I'll be sending you good vibes Dad. Let's hope what goes around come around to the bastard that hit us!
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Instead of having a b-day party, Dad and Mom decided to treat me to an event. They said it was a surprise so I had no idea where we were going. All I remember was taking the highway.
When we got there, I saw a big sign... Oakwood Collegiate ... "Where da hell are we?" I asked. We started to approach a large grass field with fences along the edges. A group of people were talking in the middle of the field. Then I saw them....all of them. They came in different sizes and their colours were brindle, white, fawn and they all looked like me!...but I was the most handsome of course. I saw boxers! All of them were boxers! We were at a boxer meetup!
"OMG! Thanks Mom and Dad!!!! I'm home again, with my people! Or should I say my canines?!"
"Son, go have fun with the others", and Dad released me into the play area.
I walked slowly towards the massive group of boxers and their owners. I didn't know anyone at first so I approached them with caution. I wonder who the alpha was? Better not piss him/her off. I estimated about 10 boxers were huddled together talking.
"Who's the new guy?" I heard someone say.
"Fresh meat y'all!" And then they all started to sniff me.
"I'm Brix and I'm 2 today."
"I'm Gustavo, but you can call me Gus.Happy bday." He was also a brindle boxer and he was nice to me.
"I'm Zowie, nice to meet you." she said in a tiny voice. She was a cute white puppy. No chance to get wit her tho.
"I'm Leroy." He was a flashy fawn just a little smaller in size than me.
"Yo Brix, I'm Jam." He was also a flashy fawn, solid with a muscular build.
I hung around Leroy, Gus and Jam mainly. They were about my size and age. They were a friendly bunch. We chased each other the whole time. I was at peace and was free of that stupid leash Dad and Mom put on me. We began chatting about old girlfriends like all studs would and I started to talk about how black labs bitches were the hottest when we heard a fight happen.
"I'm warning you right now. DON'T get any closer to me." It was one of the white boxers staring down another boxer. He was the tallest of the group and stood with confidence. His muscles were erect and his head was held high, tail straight up.
"And what are you going to do about it huh? This is my pack. I am there leader." That was the second boxer speaking. He was huge, stocky, and approached the white one slowly with his chest puffed out. Leroy lowered his head and let the stocky boxer pass.
I watched from a distance. The two boxers now were about 1 foot away from each other and then they froze, staring each other in the eyes. The place fell silent. Without a word, the two let out deep low growls and instantly were on their hind legs. Both tried to take the other down. No one tried to submit. I darted towards the two, hoping to break the two apart but their owners forcefully broke off the fight.
After that I looked at the owners as they showed disappointment with their boxers' behaviour.
"I'm so sorry, I'll leave." The boxer owner apologized. The stocky boxer and his owner started to leave the field. "It's all right. I don't know what got into him." the other owner said solemnly.
Not long after the tall white boxer and his owner decided to leave too.
"Dad what happened? Why didn't you let me stop them.
"It's none of your business Brix.." Dad replied. Dad tried to explain some more.
"Sometimes dogs don't like everyone. One wrong look and that's all it takes. Let me ask you. Why don't you like Rotti on 52?"
"Uh.....'cause he smells weird? "
"No, cause he showed teeth to me and I run the streets of Murray Wilson."
"See, not everyone is your friend either."
After the meet up I said bye to my new friends. It was awesome and I hope we see each other again. Then as usual, I dozed off in the car, during the ride home. What a great day.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Mom bought me a new jacket for my birthday! She also got a new jacket for herself too, check us out! We are styling! As for Dad, well he gets nothing as usual but the bill. I love my new jacket. It has a detachable hood, it's warm and the best part, it has a pocket on the back. Probably to keep poo bags I guess?
"Brix. You wanna try your new jacket out?" Dad started to put it on me.
"There, now you look like a Stud.". With Dad nodding his head we went on our night walk.
I was so happy and walking without a care, until I smelt him. I tensed up. "No, it can't be Rotti on 52. Something smaller." I thought to myself. I froze in my tracks. Dad didn't have a clue. He was trying to listen with those defective ears of his.
Then I saw him. Jack Russell.
"What you doing in my hood huh? I run these streets if you haven't already heard.." I growled at the puny creature. He looked me right in the eyes.
"Nice girlie jacket. I bet Mommy still chooses your clothes for you? Real studs don't need jackets. Oh but of course, my bad, you're not a real stud. I am. Hahaha!"
BALLISTIC...that's what happened next. No one comes in my hood talking smack like that. I leaped up and down, growling and trying to break free of Dad's hold. Eventually Jack Russell walked away like cowards would. Dad ended our walk short and unbuttoned my new jacket.
"Brix! What da hell? The top jacket button fell. Where is it?"
"Must be made in China." I pushed Dad's patience.
"BRIX! Do you want me to kick you out? 'Cause I can and I will." Then I heard Mom.
"He wrecked his jacket! Brix why do you waste my time and money!" I put on a pretty face for Mom and began to defend myself.
"It wasn't me Mom. I swear, Jack Russell attacked me and I had to defend myself and Dad. You're lucky Dad is a live." So I told a small lie. Big deal because it worked. Mom focused her attention to Dad.
"I told you NOT to put the new jacket on him. Why don't you ever listen to me! What are you going to do now, I can't return it! You get him a new jacket!"
So all in all, in less than an hour, my new jacket has a busted button but it's okay, life will go on. Humans really gotta learn to chill like us dogs.