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Wrinkles, The One and Only September 19, 2009

Posted by Bill in Animals.

We have a dog.  With six cats around you wouldn’t think we would have room for a dog.  It was rather a surprise to find out that we did.  At the time the cats were not happy about it, except for Quinn (another blasted cat I have not told you about).    He just didn’t care one way or the other.  Of course, I wasn’t sure I was too thrilled about it either.  At the time.  Now I am thrilled.  Most definitely thrilled.  Happily thrilled.  I like being happily married. 

A little recent history about us and dogs.

At one time we had three dogs- JoJo, Atherton, and Goldie – and only two cats.  But gradually old age took each of our dogs and we kept finding ourselves with an extra cat from here and from there.  It seemed that for every dog that died we gained two cats.  I wonder if that means anything?  Is it a reflection of the relative value between the two species?  Is it a reflection of the ease of maintenance in that the same effort expended in taking care of one dog can support two cats?  Is it……



When our last dog died we were not going to get another one right away (I should clarify that by “we” I meant my wife and I.  I don’t remember us asking the five cats we had at that time, but I imagine they would have mostly agreed with us, only disagreeing with the right away part – they would have said never).  After all we had all the cats and dogs are higher maintenance than cats. 

Now don’t get me wrong, I love dogs.  We planned to get one.  Eventually.   A small lap dog that would be cute and cuddly.   

Funny how often things don’t go as planned. 

What happened, as opposed to what was planned, was that my wife, the wondrous and beautiful Dindy, had to take one of our cats to the vet.  In fact it was George our last blasted cat acquisition.   He had started camping out in our backyard and would often groom himself in front of our glass sliding door.  There all the other blasted cats would gather to hiss at him and give him the evil eye.  George just ignored them and continued on with his toilet seemingly oblivious to the other cats.

My youngest daughter – she of the red and blue hair – had taken a liking to George and George to her.  At the time he wasn’t named George and in fact did not have a name at all.  In fact it was my youngest daughter who eventually named him George Caruso since he had a nice loud voice that he used whenever he was ready for my daughter to feed him. 

Eventually, after checking with the neighbors to make sure that none of them was missing a cat or that they might want a fine voiced mellow fellow of a cat (I checked 11 times with every neighbor in a 3 block area before my wife told me to knock it off) we took him in.

Now of course after having roughed it in the outdoors for however long George had been outdoors the beautiful and wondrous Dindy had to take him to the vet to be checked over and receive his shots.  He went willingly and mellowly and everything looked to be going smoothly until the beautiful and wondrous Dindy arrived at the vet.

And there at the vet, in the waiting room of the vet, off to the side near the north wall of the vet was a cage.  And in the cage there was a dog.  The dog that looked up at Dindy.  Dindy looked down at the dog.  And in that moment heartstrings were plucked and bonds of steel were formed.  Angels sang and a shaft of light penetrated the ceiling to halo the dog. 

Dindy had to have the dog. 

This dog is Wrinkles (note – that is the name of our dog, although at this time he had not been named.  The naming happened a whole 2 minutes after the wondrous and beautiful Dindy saw him)

Anyway, back to the angels singing.

This dog is Wrinkles


Wrinkles by name

A wonderful dog

Who won’t eat like a ….

At this point the wondrous and normally sensible Dindy told the heavenly choir to shut up as the vet staff were giving her suspicious looks wondering if she had a hidden tape player and why she was playing that rather strange song.

Despite their suspicions they gave her the now named Wrinkles when she said “Yes, yes, Oh lordy yes.  I want that dog, I need that dog, gotta have that dog.”    They, the vet staff, were very happy.   The dog Wrinkles was very happy.  And there was much rejoicing.

Now the first I knew of our new acquisition was after the Wrinkles had arrived home.  I was still at work.  Whilst still at work the wise and crafty Dindy called me.  I really can’t remember how she phrased the news that we now had a dog.  I only remember that I kept calm and cool and collected.  I did not remind her that this was not part of our plan. 

When I got home I quickly noticed that this dog, although still a puppy, was big.  Around 30 or 40 lbs big.

I did not remind the talented and deadly Dindy that this was not part of our plan.  Instead I let myself be jumped on, licked, and in general welcomed home. 

Oh, almost forgot, the reason the dog is named Wrinkles is because he is a Shar Pei.  One of the wrinkled dogs.  In fact he is a pure bred Shar Pei.  Now at first I questioned this for two reasons.

First, why would anyone dump a pure bred anything.  They are worth money usually.

Second, while having loose skin he was not as wrinkled as the Shar Pei’s that I knew of. 

I voiced those thoughts to the beautiful and deadly Dindy.  Whilst sitting on the floor and rubbing my lumpy head Dindy showed me the book she had gotten about Shar Pei’s and pointed to a picture.  It was a thick and heavy book.  Very solid.


The picture was of a Shar Pei that was short furred and less wrinkly than you normally think of a Shar Pei.  He looked almost exactly like Wrinkles, who was now cavorting and jumping around me happy that I was on the floor with him.

Jumping.  That is something I should mention about Wrinkles.  The dog doesn’t jump.  He levitates.  One moment all four paws are on the ground, the next he is four feet off the floor and headed towards your lap.

He loves laps.  Wrinkles is a lap dog.  Despite me telling him repeatedly that 71 lb dogs are not normally considered lap dogs.  He’s a dog.  We have laps.  He fits in them (overflows them more like).  To his mind he is a lap dog. 

Now raising a canine from pup to dog in a house with six felines can do strange things with a dog’s psyche.  It wasn’t long before we noticed that Wrinkles had started to play with his toys and chewies like a cat does with its toys – he would toss it across the room and pounce on it and bat at it with his paws.  A little later we noticed that he had started to groom himself like a cat – licking his paws and then rubbing said paws on his ears. 


My wife and I are fine with that and find it amusing for now.  As long as he doesn’t try to get on the fireplace mantel and start testing gravity like a cat.



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