Jack don’t like Copenhagen

I was getting a chew and he saw something that looked like it might be going in my mouth so he jumped up with his paws on the arm of my chair and stuck his nose down in the can. He backed off long enough for me to get mine and then I guess he decided if I could handle it, he could too so he lunged for my can. I snatched him away and got him his own chew, a great big one, and stuck it between his cheek and gum. He drank like 2 gallons of water and now if you wave a Copenhagen can at him he shies away.

CharlieGodammit cured himself from getting into my chew the first month I had him. I’d gotten up and went into the kitchen, and back then he was every bit the trouble Jack is now, and he grabbed my can off my table and got into it. Next thing I know he piled headfirst into the kitchen cabinet at full speed, sneezing his ass off. Funniest thing I’d seen all day.
Charlie was a drunk when I first got him. If I got up and left my beer, he’d knock it over and I’d find him lapping it up. It wasn’t too bad my first few beers because I’d remember to take them with me, but after I’d had a sixpack or so, I’d get forgetful. That shit had to come to a halt, bro. Not because of the cost – back then he only weighed about 90 pounds and was pretty much a lightweight, he’d get fucked up on 3 beers, but because he was a mean drunk. It’s kinda hard to enjoy getting fucked up when you’re sitting there in your chair clutching a 45 and eyeballing a dog crouched down in the corner snarling at you.
It was an easy cure. I got a bottle of that ReaLemon concentrate in the green bottle and filled a beer can with that. That took care of that shit on the very first try.

This entry was posted in CharlieGodammit, Jack, True Stories. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Jack don’t like Copenhagen

  1. nwoldude says:

    A mean drunk. That’s great!
    Didn’t get into the ol stashola did they?

If your comment 'disappears', don't trip - it went to my trash folder and I will restore it when I moderate.