Gangsta, that is. this post is not for the weak of heart (or fear of anal glands.) This is my furbaby. (total cheeseball term that represents my love for this smushed face, snoring, furry fool.) Gizmo became mine when I stalked him on the interwebs and went in found him in podunk Georgia my first WEEK of grad school. Ben was in town (his senior year of college) and stayed at my apartment to study. I brought home this mess. The one who we came home from going to dinner to find on the dining room table like, "What up bitches? I own this place." And he did. Forever. So he became the dog that people loved to hate, that we loved, and had the highest pitch yelp you've ever heard. Ever.
Little did she know that this dog would go into doggy ICU (for two weeks) and have a blood transfusion and I didn't miss a visiting hour. Oh yes. I said visiting hour. He also stole my first trip to Italy. He also made me lose 10 lbs in like 8 days, just sayin, that was maybe a blessing?
He's sweet (to me.) Griffin LOVES him (feelings not returned.) He bites Ben on a daily basis (when pulling him out from under the bed to go outside.) He can sleep until noon (Ben's dream.) And would love to be walked in a stroller. Which we have yet to do. yet.
He was sickers again the other night when I had to stay at a hotel by myself without a baby monitor and it included some anal leakage. The same kind you get if you eat too many Lays WOW chips. He had a ruptured anal glad that they had to put him under to clean out. So while they cleaned out our wazoo's as well they also removed all but 6 of his teeth. enough to keep his tongue mostly in. Except in the picture above. WHere it's out. And adorable. And I continue to call him "puppy."
He feels better. I made him dog food. I mean, it's no blood transfusion, but it is boiled meat.
Gizmo. Love to hate him.