Chuck Norris Shit in my Kitchen
It’s true. Chuck Norris shit in my kitchen, kicked it around a bit, and later that evening kicked me in the freaking head.
I’m lucky to be alive.
In related news my girlfriend and I picked up a puppy from the Kalamzoo county pound on Friday and she actually let me name him Chuck Norris.
I’m lucky she puts up with my quirky sense of humor.
Don’t fuck with Chuck
He’s about 5 months old right now. Not sure what his story is. He’s definately got a good helping of Black Labrador in his genes, but I’m not sure what else is in there, if anything. Right now his front paws are as side as my four fingers when he’s standing on them, so I suspect he’ll turn into a pretty sizable guy.
He’s a perfectly lovable dog and loves contact with people. Unfortunately he’s nowhere near house broken. He not only shits in the house but he’ll shit and piss in his crate if we leave him in there for a few hours when we leave the house.
Hell, he pissed in his crate this evening after being in there for under an hour and we had walked him just 20 minutes prior.
That’s not good, but we figure it’ll work itself out eventually.
The good stuff is that not only is he friendly but he’s not aggressive at all. At the pound we were able to touch him anywhere and he was fine with it. Ears, neck, mouth, whatever. Upon arriving at home I made sure I could take food from him and he’s got no problem with that either. He has no qualms with me putting my fingers inside his mouth to grab things he shouldn’t be chewing on to boot.
I think he’ll work out just fine.