Well kind of. He does guard the hearth. His name is Ike, weighs somewhere over 200 pounds. To give a little perspective the Grand brat on the left is 6 foot 3 (at 15 years old, yikes). Now I had no real intentions of getting an English Mastiff, a big dog yes, but not really that big. My only excuse is, I hadn't slept in about 2 days and The Wife thought he looked cute as a pup. He's a good dog, not a puppy mill pup, and I have no fear of leaving the home to his guard. If he doesn't get them, I will. But it really isn't anything in the home that I get concerned about, but I do the people that are in it, with some reason for it. This little town has no police and I like it that way. You can call the State Troopers and they might get here soon and they might be a good half hour before they arrive, you never know.
Nothing like getting greeted with a little gentle nudge to the balls by Ike. He can double me over with a big whoosh of air coming out my mouth. My god that is one powerful animal. With very gentle heart, as long as he knows you and if he likes you and he will, once greeted well, if you're male, I warned you.
2 comments:
My smallest Jack Russell, Sweetie, would kill Ike easily.
He'd choke.
You reminded me of a post I researched, pictures and all. I may get off my butt and get that one up. It's going to be called "The Spirit of America", but it isn't really. The guy I'm going to refer to, his last name is/was Ferguson.
And I do think you know there is really a police in this little town. Had to kick it into high gear just the other day. Small town make up is rather interesting.
Good one, Conan, good one. ;-)
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