spoken for

This. Is Rimshot.

A couple of posts ago, I mentioned our psycho rat terrier and figured it was time I tell the world more about him.

We got him in 2001 when my mom called me suddenly one day and said, “hey, do you want a dog?” Apparently N (remember her?) had gotten herself a third dog when she wasn’t allowed to have any in the house she and her husband were renting from my grandpa. He’d put up with the first two but drew the line at the third and literally took the dog away.

To make a long story short, his wife called my mom and asked if they wanted the dog. We ended up with him. He was already about a year old.

We changed his name from Lucky, he is now named after the dog in the Ernest P. Worrell movies, you know, Jim Varney?

He’s only named after him because they are the same breeds, though they are different body types. The Ernest Rimshot is quite a smart animal and has many talents. Our dog is nuts.

First of all, he sucks as a watch dog. He will only bark at people if the following conditions apply:
1. The front curtain is drawn back, window may or may not be open
2. Rimshot is sitting on the arm of the chair
3. Someone walks up or down the street

He sheds white hair everywhere. He is attracted to people with black shirts.

He’s also a weasel. If I ask Elijah, “are you hungry?” the dog goes nuts. He acts like we never feed him and while I understand all dogs have this attitude, he is downright psycho about it. Yesterday, he stole my lunch from me while I was distracted for five seconds with Elijah. Yes, he stole my whole hambuger that I’d only taken one bite out of. I’m still mad at him. He is also getting bolder and bolder about Elijah’s high chair. He’s starting to put his front paws on the front of the chair (it’s an attachable to a kitchen chair high chair) and tries to swipe food off the tray. He’s not quite tall enough and lately Elijah’s been screetching and then kicking him for this, but he’s getting closer.

He loves to go for rides and has been known to run outside really fast and try to get in the UPS man’s truck. He did jump right in Anita‘s car once.

He’s not supposed to be on the couch, but somehow he always manages to get up here real close to me without my noticing until Steve hollers at him. He has a bed but somtimes I say, “get in your bed” and he heads to the couch, I repeat it and he goes for the chair, I repeat it, and finally, he goes to his bed. I have to give him credit, though, as he understands and almost always obeys the phrase, “go upstairs and go to bed.” He has another bed of his own upstairs in our room.

He’s extremely clingy. Whenever we go on vacation he always has someone to watch him but when we get back he will not let me out of his sight for at least a week.

He’s also a wimp. If there is even a hint of thunder, or fireworks, or any loud noise, he freaks out. He hides under our bed or wherever he can get (used to hide under Elijah’s crib, but no longer is that up and he can’t get under E’s bed) and he will cower and refuse to come out for hours. He is afraid of guns (this I don’t really get because it’s not like we’ve shot at him before or anything) and he’s afraid of bright colored plastic toys. Oh, and mice, too.

He thinks the space heater always makes heat. Always, and he’ll insist on sitting right next to it, even when it’s turned off.

He adores cats. We used to have one when he arrived and they used to play together all the time. He now thinks all cats are like that and doesn’t seem to get it that most cats don’t want anything to do with him.

He must be on a leash to go outside as if he sees anyone, he will run off and try to get them to play.

He eats everything. Everything. Well, the only things I knwo of that he doesn’t like are raw carrots, banana peels, and raw potatoes. He likes lettuce. And green beans. And broccoli. He once drank beer.

He has a weak stomach. He gets carsick after about a half an hour. He once managed to throw up cat food when he didn’t even have access to any. We still can’t figure that one out.

At least one a day, he goes completely psycho about something and will run from his bed to the chair to the couch to his bed to the chair to the couch to his bed to the chair to his couch…

He thinks all stuffed animals belong to him.

He thinks he’s people.

I’ve seen him get pillows off the back of the couch and pile them up and bury himself in them. He has managed to bury himself in my clean towels in the 10 seconds it took me to go put away some wash cloths and come back for the rest.

Yeah, he’s psycho, but he’s our dog! And if he wasn’t here, this house would be quite lonely indeed. I want a girl Rimshot. So we can have little baby Rimshots…

Why is this post titled “Zai-zai”? Because when Elijah yells “Rimshot” that’s what it sounds like: Zai-zai!!!! Don’t ask. Because I don’t know.