It wasn’t until last November that I came to the realization that Scooby Doo © is a Great Dane. I don’t know why I hadn’t put the association together earlier. Now that this piece of information has been pointed out to me, it makes total sense: size, markings, tail, ears, temperament. I guess I always just thought that Scooby was an archetypal “dog,” breed non-specific. But believe me, he is all Dane.
Last night, or early this morning, about 4 a.m., we were treated to a “Zoiks!” moment by Al. Although it is difficult to put together the details from my sleep-addled brain, my reconstruction of this morning’s events are thus:
In very quick succession, one of the baby gates that was leaned against the wall fell over with a reasonable clatter. Out of alarm, Al sprung up from a dead sleep, somehow plucking himself from the very tiny space where he sleeps wedged between the bed and the wall (the previous hole in the sheetrock has grown from the size of a softball to the size of a soccer ball, thanks to this sleeping arrangement) and landing with all fours on the bed where K and I were peacefully reposed in slumber.
Upon landing with his forepaws somewhere in K’s chest region, she let out a burst of sound reminiscent of a goat being violently squeezed, a parrot coughing and a cat in heat, all captured in one vocalization.
As I lay there laughing, I couldn’t figure out whether I was laughing at K’s ridiculous noise, or the ridiculous notion that a 160 pound dog would be so frightened of a noise that he would have reacted so.
Last night, or early this morning, about 4 a.m., we were treated to a “Zoiks!” moment by Al. Although it is difficult to put together the details from my sleep-addled brain, my reconstruction of this morning’s events are thus:
In very quick succession, one of the baby gates that was leaned against the wall fell over with a reasonable clatter. Out of alarm, Al sprung up from a dead sleep, somehow plucking himself from the very tiny space where he sleeps wedged between the bed and the wall (the previous hole in the sheetrock has grown from the size of a softball to the size of a soccer ball, thanks to this sleeping arrangement) and landing with all fours on the bed where K and I were peacefully reposed in slumber.
Upon landing with his forepaws somewhere in K’s chest region, she let out a burst of sound reminiscent of a goat being violently squeezed, a parrot coughing and a cat in heat, all captured in one vocalization.
As I lay there laughing, I couldn’t figure out whether I was laughing at K’s ridiculous noise, or the ridiculous notion that a 160 pound dog would be so frightened of a noise that he would have reacted so.
And then I remembered, Scooby Doo was a
Great Dane.
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