Saturday, June 27, 2009
Folded On The Boxer Raising
From an earlier endeavor...this is my boy, Spike.
My 5 year old boy weighs in at 90 pounds. A big one. I know how innocent he is. He would kill you upon contact...kill you by means of licking. I have heard him growl once, perhaps bark twice...at the trash truck. You know, that big machine that puts mankind at risk?
Spike is quite the snorer, Even when awake, you always know when he is around. My sister says, "Get that boy some sinus medicine!" He is loud. When he lays down he sounds like the air brake being released on a semi truck.
We think there is nothing between Spike's ears, empty headed. He just hangs around. His favorite things in life are tomatoes and apples (just like his late father, Samson). Forget the steaks, my boy is happy with the healthy stuff. And guess what he has to have done every single night? Mom is required to rub him right between his eyes. The natural sleeping pill. The big head and neck just sinks down. The eyes go dull. Down he goes. Hilarious.
Years ago I wanted to raise boxers. I still have 3, but I no longer breed. It is a huge responsibility. I had nice puppies, large litters, good sized pups, beautiful boxers but...after carefully raising two sets of litters, 20 puppies total, I decided to stick with goats. Puppies are a lot of work! And I tend to get too attached to them.
Spike is from our first litter.
Here is Spike at 4 weeks old, always weighed in 3 times more than his litter mates.
And again, below with his father at an even younger age.