My GSP obsession was taken to a whole other level last week. In addition to being athletic, intelligent, and beautiful, GSPs are entertaining clowns. Their farts are often deadly, but have both appropriate and inappropriate timing. Their starfish sleeping positions are bizarre. Their need for attention is greater than a Kardashian. I learned something new about GSPs this week: Their parents/owners can be hilarious.
GSPs come in a variety of coats--roan, liver (like Alli), combinations of white and liver (like Joey), black roan, black, you're getting the picture here. It's not a dissertation on breed standards. That's a shit pile of opinions in which I would rather not step, especially with my perfectly healthy purebred rescue who happens to be a tiny pocket pointer. Papers, schmapers, the Bitch is happy.
About the funny people and here's why the whole thing struck me as extra funny. My mom was a teacher for almost 40 years. She taught middle and high school students in a public school. Anyone who works with kids that long either gets crusty and burns out OR has a pretty evolved sense of humor. Thankfully, my mom fell into the latter category. For example, she's driving a van full of kids to a service project for a school club and we're all whining about everything, because that's what kids with first world problems do. My mom declared that we all got one gripe so we better make it worth it.
Genius not only because it got us to actually stop and think about what our top gripe was, but super genius because it got us to shut up.
Mom was also often aggravated by whatever new insults or slang kids used--I'll never forget her face when my older brother told me to, "Go suck an egg." She actually put soap in his mouth. I still giggle as I type this, thinking about peering around the corner into the bathroom with my brother the turdface's mouth full of soap.
One of her greatest contributions was substitute words for the ones that annoyed her. Saying something "Sucked" in her classroom would get you in trouble while saying something "Vacuumed" or "Hoovered," did not. You could poll groups of students from the mid-90's and all would remember this.
The greatest substitution?
Don't say, "Dick," or "dickhead," but rather use the formal, "Richard."
That's stuck with me since middle school, so when a post in the GSP group made call for photos of a particularly Richardesque marking on our dogs, I couldn't help but think about how life pulls things together sometimes.
Joey's first foster family called her, "Bones" because the markings on her back looked like a classic dog bone. Being more Star Wars than Star Trek, I knew that wouldn't stay. Plus, as she grew, the marking was less bone-like.
That's not the case for many GSPs and their bone-like markings, in fact, there's a whole bunch of them out there to make you blush and giggle or laugh until you cry, depending on your sense of humor.
I present... Dickback, er Richardback Pointers! Screw it, I'm 39 years old, DICKBACK POINTERS!
This is Lucky. And I'm sure he would be with action like that. Photo used with permission from owner/mom, Desaree.
Wood everywhere. Chapry the climber. Photo used with permission of owner/mom, Bianka.
If Molly were a superhero, they'd call her Shouldercock. Photo used with permission of owner/dad, Bryan.
This bitch, Clio, has bigger balls than any dog. Photo used with permission of owner/dad, Steven.
AND FINALLY...
King Richard's owner/mom, Shelbie, started this whole thing and made my day. I salute you, Dickback Pointer, Winchester, King of the Richard Back! Photo used with Shelbie's permission.