Boris & Finnigan

Probably very few of you faithful readers have heard my sob story about wanting a dog growing up (and being ruthlessly denied by my parents!!!). I'll get over it...someday. Basically, the Cliffnotes version goes something like this.

When I was a little toddler, we had a dog named Duke. My mom didn't like him digging up her flowers or making a mess in our yard, so we got rid of him. From that point forward, for years I begged and pleaded for a dog. It didn't matter what holiday it was, I was asking for a dog.

Christmas - Don't you think Jesus would be happy if we celebrated his birth by caring for a little puppy, Mom and Dad?

Birthday - It's MY birthday; can't I get what I really want for once!?

Halloween - Forget the candy; give me a puppy!

Valentine's Day - Don't you love me? If you loved me, you'd get me a puppy!

Easter - Forget the Easter Bunny! How 'bout an Easter Puppy!?

Hannukah - Jesus was a Jew...I think he wants us to have EIGHT puppies!!!

Okay, so maybe it wasn't exactly like that, but you get the point. I spent years of my life wasting my breath, and my parents never caved. If you wonder why I am the way I am today, I blame it all on the emotional trauma I endured from years of puppy deprivation. (It's okay, Mom and Dad, I'll forgive you sooner or later!!!).

Fast forward now to my year in South Africa. I mentioned in the previous post about staying with Uncle Johan and Auntie Brenda. One of the HUGE perks of staying with them was that they had not one, but TWO dogs! They were quite the dynamic duo. Boris was this monstrous Rhodesian Ridgeback who was ready to rip off the head of anyone trying to break into the house, but really was just a sweet dog. Standing on his hind legs, he probably came up close to my chest, though. Just a monster.

His antithesis, then, was little Finnigan. "Finny," as I often called him, was a tiny little Jack Russell, the runt of his litter. He was this crazy little puppy that would get so excited when I came home that he often peed himself--literally! A quick story about Finnigan...

So this little puppy loved to jump up on me, and he was always trying to lick my face. I thought it was cute and everything, and most of the time I let him. Well, what he really liked to do was lick my beard (I know, I know...it's gross), and I could never figure out why. Finally, it was pointed out to me that given my Osama-esque (yes, that's a new adjective) beard, whenever I ate, food was often getting stuck in my beard. So Finnigan wasn't really so interested in my beard as he was the leftovers stuck in my beard! Ha!

Anyway, now that you're all grossed out and wondering if I've got a few screws loose, here are a few pictures of my South African pets:

Posing with Boris and Finnigan on my last day in South Africa. This picture really doesn't do justice to how huge Boris is...

With my little buddy, Finnigan!

Seriously, cutest dog E-VER. Now you know why I let him lick my face...