If Garfield was a Dog, He would be called Tito

Day 11 Post 5

Tito is a very heavy, big-boned, hypo-thyroid, and fat dog. In his defense, he doesn't mean to be fat. I guess to be more specific, Tito is not the type of dog that finds every opportunity to eat anything and everything in its sight on (well, Tito doesn't miss an opportunity to lick a stray drop of chicken marinade off of the tile floor). He and I have been rooming together for little more than two years and I can honestly say that we never knowingly give him, or any of our other dogs, human food. 

Even though he is chunky, Tito is surprisingly nimble and quite agile. Sometimes, while sitting on my recliner, I see Tito staring at our couch. From the floor to the top of the couch cushion is about 24 inches in height. By his worried face, I guessed that he wanted to get on the couch to lounge about--his favorite pastime. Usually, if my wife or my sister are here in the apartment, seeing Tito wanting to get on the couch, would assist him--most of the time with both hands and knees slightly bent to avoid any back strain--onto the couch. I, however, wanted him to work for it. After about five minutes of tense silence between Tito and I, Tito decided to get on the couch on his own.

Tito stepped back slightly, giving himself more room to maneuver and then started to bend his back legs up and down as if pumping a pressure cannon. After about fifteen pumps, his stubby cannon hind legs exploded from the floor and catapulted him onto the couch. In mid-flight, Tito was thinking that he over-pumped his legs because he had over shot his landing. As his faced was scraped off the backrest of the couch, Tito shook the imaginary water from his body and nestled himself quietly on the corner of the couch.