This is one of the many reasons why you should vote for Tierce in the Fido Casting Call contest. You can vote every day!

http://www.fidocastingcall.ca/dogs/178

Tierce:  Because… I collect seashells.

Me:  …Yeah.

Tierce:  I’ve never been interested in a seashell in my entire life.

Me:  You like seashells.

Tierce:  Well, there was that time Mischa was cooking and accidentally dropped an oyster on the floor, but other than that… no.

Me:  Oh, you like seashells.

Tierce:  I really don’t.

Me:  YOU LIKE SEASHELLS.  BECAUSE YOU’RE SPECIAL.

Tierce:  Okay! Okay!  I like seashells!  Geez, you and your delusions of fame and fortune.

Me: Shut your mouth and keep piling them up.  I want to take another picture.

Vote for Tierce and his seashells in the Fido Casting Call Contest!

This is one of the many reasons why you should vote for Tierce in the Fido Casting Call contest. You can vote every day!

http://www.fidocastingcall.ca/dogs/178

Tierce:  At least some people know my true worth.

Me:  Yeah, they hear me bitch about your vet bills all the time.  Har! ‘Bitch’!  Get it?

Tierce:  Funny.

Vote for Tierce and his devoted fans in the Fido Casting Call Contest!

I’m thinking up reasons why you should vote for Tierce in the Fido Casting Call contest.  I’m going to be running one of these reasons every day until November 15.  Stay tuned for a month of Tierce!

http://www.fidocastingcall.ca/dogs/178

Tierce: You’ve posted this picture before.

Me:  Well, it’s a cute picture!

Tierce:  It was a cute picture before you started plastering it all over the Net.  My Dog, can’t you humiliate me in private?

Me:  Oh, revenge is sweet.  It’s like chocolate mousse without the calories.

Tierce:  I wouldn’t know, since you’ve never let me have chocolate.

Me:  Chocolate is toxic to dogs.

Tierce:  Like I’d believe anything you told me about something you want to have all to yourself.

Me:  Keep it up and I’ll make you a big bowl of it.

Tierce:  Oh, now you’re trying to kill me.  Aren’t you being a little hypocritical, supporting all these dog rescues and animal welfare organizations?

Me:  No, because those are for grateful dogs who don’t humiliate their owners.

Tierce:  There you go, chipping away at my self-esteem again.

Me:  That would be like trying to wear away the foundation of the Statue of Liberty using a duster.

Vote for Tierce and his incredible ego in the Fido Casting Call Contest!

Me: Wow, I’ve uploaded your photo to the Fido Casting Call contest and you’re number 13!

Tierce: Fido Casting Call?

Me: You could be in a commercial.

Tierce: What would I have to do?

Me: I dunno… look cute, I guess.

Tierce: I could look cute right here.

Me: Well… it’s just better on television.

Tierce: That box you stare at that sounds like static?

Me: Yeah, that box.

Tierce: Why do you want me to be in that box? Isn’t the crate enough?

Me: No, it would just be your picture.

Tierce: You’re gonna put my picture in the crate and me in the TV. I always knew you had some kind of ulterior motive for owning me.

Me: No, your picture would be in the TV.

Tierce: Well, I’m not going to do it for nothing. What’s the pay like?

Me: Cheese, maybe some bologna or dried liver.

Tierce: I’ll think about it… no promises, though.

Me: Well, you don’t even know if you’re going to win.

Tierce: Of course I’ll win! I’m superior to all those other dogs.

Me: OH MY GOD! YOU’VE SLIPPED TO NUMBER 18! MUST FACEBOOK ALL FRIENDS EVER KNOWN TO VOTE!

Tierce: Uh…

Me: Oh and Twitter, too! Can’t forget Twitter!

Tierce: …you’re getting a little intense about this.

Me: And maybe I should do some kind of mailout. You know, nothing vulgar or garish; just a couple of chain letters.

Tierce: Says the person who thinks Snopes is a demigod and posts rants about email forwards.

Me: IT’S ALL WORTH IT! FAME! MONEY! FORTUNE!

Tierce: Well, if you wanted money, you shouldn’t have gotten a dog.

Me: My dog will be famous…!

Tierce: Er… does the dog have anything to say about this?

Me: NO. DOG IS AVATAR OF SELF. DOG WILL REPRESENT SELF WHENEVER DOG IS TOLD.

Tierce: Says the human to the Shiba. Good luck with that.

Me: Hey, I should write something for the blog about this!

Tierce: Yeah, you go do that. I’ll be chewing an escape route through the front door.

Vote for Tierce!

Vote Tierce in the Fido Casting Call Contest!

Tierce: You’re not getting up to feed me with the alacrity that this task should inspire.

Me: I’m kind of under the weather right now.

Tierce: Because I’m sitting here, so obviously wasting away?

Me: No… a friend’s cat died today and I’m unhappy for them.

Tierce: What do you mean, it had to go into a kennel or something?

Me: No, it means that it went to sleep and will never wake up. Like Shassi did.

Tierce: Not even to eat?

Me: Not even to eat.

Tierce: Will that ever happen to me?

Me: …yes, it will happen to you. But not for a long, long time, I hope.

Tierce: I wouldn’t like not eating ever again.

Me: Well, you wouldn’t feel anything, so you wouldn’t be hungry or in pain.

Tierce: Would you be unhappy if I died?

Me: Yes. I will be very sad.

Tierce: Maybe I won’t die.

Me: No, Tierce, one day you will.

Tierce: Well, it’s not happening now and the kibble is still not in the dish where it belongs.

Me: You’re right; it’s not happening now and I’m not going to dwell on it. Having my friends’ cat die, even though he lived a long and happy life, makes me think of how sad I’ll be when you die and how sad I was when Shassi died.

Tierce: Cheer up! Maybe you’ll die before I do.

Me: Thanks for the thought, but dogs’ and cats’ lifespans are shorter than humans’.

Tierce: Maybe the vet could fix me.

Me: Oh, Tierce. The vet can fix a lot of things, but they can’t fix that.

Tierce: Why do you have dogs and cats if they die and make you sad?

Me: Because the happiness that they bring into my life and the lives of my friends makes it worth it.

Tierce: Well, obviously, *I’m* worth it. Except being fed; apparently I’m not worth that.

Me: I’ll get your food. I might add that sometimes the happiness is of a strange and inexplicable nature.

Tierce: *chomp chomp chomp* So, we ont a’ways ‘ake ‘oo ‘appi?

Me: No, sometimes you drive me into a homicidal rage. And you’re expensive. And you need constant care and management.

Tierce: So, why ‘oo you kee’ me a’ound?

Me: Because I chose to bring you into my life and I love you. Despite some of your more spectacular displays of ‘unique Shiba temperament’.

Tierce: Ah… stomach is happier. I might yet live to see another day. You know, it seems that pet owners don’t get the best out of this arrangement.

Me: Well… in a lot of ways, owning you and Shassi was and is like having children. It’s messy, expensive and they don’t always grow up the way you want them to. Often, they don’t even seem to give a shit about you or how you’re feeling. You live for moments where there’s a flash of connection between you, when you exist in a perfect state of happiness and companionship. A lot of time it doesn’t happen without a load of work and sacrifice, but sometimes those flashes are even better than the ones between you and a dog that doesn’t require so much work.

Tierce: So the fact that Shassi didn’t give a shit and I only rarely do means you love me more?

Me: No… it means that the harder I work to make us connect, the stronger the bond I have with you is.

Tierce: What if it isn’t the same for me? You know, I don’t think that your definition of ‘love’ matches my own. In fact, what if I don’t even have the capability of love? What then?

Me: In the end, it doesn’t matter if your definition of love isn’t the same as mine or even exists at all – it matters that I love you. And that I chose you, knowing what you are and that you don’t look at the world the same way I do.

Tierce: I’ll say. You don’t appreciate cat poop for the unique delicacy that it is.

Me: No. No I don’t. And you better not be going into the part of the yard where the cat crap is, or I’ll-

Tierce: What? Cry if you kill me in a fit of rage over my perceived lack of human social mores?

Me: I would never anthropomorphize you.

Tierce: No, but you’ll put a stupid jester’s cap on me and upload it to Facebook.

Me: That was justifiable humour.

Tierce: Says the person who puts words in my mouth All. The. Time.

Me: Also completely explainable and legitimate entertainment.

Tierce: How much longer do I have to put up with this?

Me: About 10 years, give or take. Shassi died at 16 and you’re 4 1/2. So maybe 12 years.

Tierce: Wow. So you would cry if I died, but you have no objection to torturing me.

Me: I could dress you up in funny little dog suits.

Tierce: The jester cap would be fine. You could even bury me with it; at least it won’t be used to torment some other helpless Shiba.

Me: You see? This is kind of the balance between love and hate that forges those strong bonds that make people want to cry when someone dies.

Tierce: Yeah, okay, I get that. I’m sure that there will be buckets of tears.

Me: Yeah, there will. Well, for you. I’m sure that you’d come home from my funeral after being kicked out of the cemetary for digging in the graveyard.

Tierce: Does it hurt?

Me: Digging in a graveyard? Not unless the undertaker helps you out the gates with the toe of his boot.

Tierce: No, to die.

Me: Um, sometimes.

Tierce: I don’t want it to hurt when I die.

Me: It might hurt, but it’s my job to make sure that if you’re sick or old and the vet can’t fix it, that you go to sleep and don’t wake up.

Tierce: How will you know?

Me: I’ll watch you very carefully. There’s no one good way to tell, but if you stop eating, become incontinent or are not enjoying your walks – those are signs that you’re not enjoying life and it’s time to put you to sleep. It’s better than having you in constant pain.

Tierce: Will I ever wake up?

Me: Some people think that you’ll wake up in a wonderful place called the Rainbow Bridge or Heaven. But… I haven’t seen any evidence that you will.

Tierce: What do you think will happen?

Me: I think that you will go to sleep and you will never wake up.

Tierce: It’s better than being in pain, though.

Me: Yes, it is better. However, I wish that there were a place where I knew we would meet again.

Tierce: Maybe there is.

Me: Anything is possible; I just can’t depend on that for a lot of human reasons.

Tierce: Humans think too much.

Me: Yeah. Yeah they do.

Tierce: We should go to the dog park!

Me: You know what? We should. Let’s go.

Tierce: Yay! Get my leash!

Me: Thanks for the chat. I must confess that I feel better knowing that you live in the present and tend to forget stuff that isn’t right in front of you.

Tierce: Chat? OH LOOK AT THAT LEAF! I MUST HAVE THE LEAF!

Me: Yeah… the chat we had about death.

Tierce: Death? Can you stop a minute? I’m peeing here. What’s death?

Me: It’s… you know what? Never mind. That’s a lovely stick you’ve got there.

Tierce: T’ank ‘oo.

I’m a member of The Society for Creative Anachronism.  We try to recreate medieval life without the downsides like no milk chocolate, no modern medicine and no glasses.  Tierce is a well-known persona in Insula Magna (Vancouver Island).  This last weekend, we went on a sojourn to Tir Righ September Coronet where we camped together:

Tierce: Do we have to do this?

Me: Yes.

Tierce: Why can’t I ride in the car?

Me: Because, A. Mischa isn’t here, B. I’ve never bothered to get a drivers license and C. Mischa has the keys anyway.

Tierce: Wow, you suck.  We could have taken five times as much and gotten there five times sooner.

Me: Do you want to pull the goddamned trailer?  Because I can arrange that.

Tierce: Oh, don’t be like that.  It’s not like I can run beside the bike when you’re going 20+ kilometres per hour.  You’d end up dragging me or I’d pull a muscle.

Me: This is sounding better and better.  Tell me more.

Tierce:  You would say something cruel and heartless like that. Put on your headphones and just keep going.  Maybe I’ll get lucky and someone will steal me at the next gas station you stop at for chocolate milk.

***

Me:  Tierce?  Tierce? Get up; I want to take a picture of you in your livery.

Tierce: No… no… leave me.  You go on.  Leave me here to die.

Me: Come on, Tierce, stop being such a drama queen.

Tierce:  Cloth… of… evil… sapping… will… to… live…

Me: Oh, stop it.  Look at Rupie; he’s not making an ass out of himself.

Tierce: Shetland Sheepdog sycophant.

Me: What? What was that?

Tierce: Nothing.  Just deploring the servile nature of dogs these days.  Some of us have our pride.

Me:  Yeah.  Yeah, about that.  He’s not the one pretending that the cloth on their shoulders is infected with a deadly poison.

Tierce:  Like you would know if it was.

Me:  It’s a table napkin.  They’re not known for their lethal properties.

***

Tierce:  OHMYDOGLOOKATTHATKIDTHATKIDISWEIRD!

Me: Tierce, you’ve seen that kid.  In fact, that kid just petted you fifteen minutes ago.

Tierce:  It could be a different kid disguised as the same kid!

Me: No… no… this is medieval recreation, not a sci-fi con.  Calm down!

Tierce:  LOOKATTHATITSCOMINGCLOSER

Me: Tierce, shut up or I will shut you up and you will not like it.

Tierce: I’m trying to alert you to a possible threat to your life and you ignore me.  You’re not inspiring my confidence here.

Me: Tierce, at this point, the only life being threatened here, at this event, is yours.  Shut. Up.

***

Me:  Get off the pillow.

Tierce:  But this is *my* pillow.

Me: It’s filled with *my* clothes and it’s where *my* head is going to rest.  Get. Off.

Tierce:  I can’t; my legs won’t work.

Me: Get your paralysed ass off the pillow and onto the cloak where you belong.

Tierce: Fine. This isn’t over yet.

[Morning, when I find Tierce on the pillow and my head pushed to the side where it is hanging precariously off the edge]

Me:  Tierce.

Tierce: Hnngh. Wha?

Me: Tierce, what is this?

Tierce: What is what?  Is it breakfast?

Me:  What are you doing on the pillow?

Tierce: I’m on the pillow?  Why, so I am.  Lovely day, isn’t it? I could do with a walk.

Me: You make a great case for animal abuse.

***

Tierce: Oh not this again.

Me:  Yeah, get in there.

Tierce:  Camping sucks.  I wasn’t allowed to run around all weekend.

Me:  Learn to come when you’re called and more freedom you will have.

Tierce: Meh. Maybe later.

Me: You got petted by a lot of people.

Tierce:  Yeah, a lot of people with no food to feed the starving dog.

Me:  You had food all weekend!

Tierce:  Yeah, that kibble crap.  You try living on a diet of nothing but meal replacement bars and see how enthusiastic you are for that shit after a few years.

Me:  I bought you turkey. From the deli.  You didn’t even eat it all!

Tierce:  I have discriminating tastes.

Me:  You’d better discriminate in favour of the trailer.  Get your ungrateful ass in.  Just wait until Mischa gets home from England.

Tierce:  At least then someone in the house will know how to cook and feed the hungry dog.

Me: I remember the good old days, when dogs used to pull people and when they didn’t pull them anymore, they were eaten.

Tierce:  Keep pedalling.  The sooner we’re home, the sooner I can check out the backyard for a dead rat to tide me over until Mischa gets here.

Click for source

Mischa: Well, Roberts Creek is a really nice place. The park is beautiful.

Tierce: Can I run off leash?

Mischa:  No; we don’t know the rules in this park and, besides, the coyotes would get you.

Tierce:  Coyotes – like those dogs that were running loose last night?  Why do they get to run free and I can’t?

Mischa: Because they’re wild.

Tierce:  Wild and free.  I bet they get to scavenge in all the best garbage cans.

Mischa:  I’m sure they do.  They don’t get fed by people stupid enough to bring an animal into their home who does nothing and expects to get by on his looks and charm.

Tierce:  It’s done well for me for the last four years.  What I can’t understand is why my looks and charm don’t get me let loose so I can go eat the local rabbits.

Mischa:  Have you seen any rabbits in Gibsons?

Tierce:  No.

Mischa:  Have you seen any outside cats?

Tierce:  No…

Mischa:  That’s because coyotes live in Gibsons.  They eat rabbits.  They eat cats.  And they’ll eat you.

Tierce:  I’m sure I can take on a coyote.  Besides, the ones I met wanted to play with me.

Mischa:  There isn’t ‘a coyote’; there’s several.  They’ll lure you out and then, when you’re stupid enough to run away and not listen to me, they’ll tear you apart and masticate your sweet, sweet overfed flesh.

Tierce: Come to think of it, they smelled familiar, but also kind of weird.

Mischa:  That’s the smell of a predator that eats small dogs.

Image from Nanaimo SPCA

If you’re looking for a Shiba Inu mix who is friendly with kids and dogs, check out Gunner at the Nanaimo SPCA.  This little guy had a hard time of it before he was brought into the Nanaimo SPCA.  Gunner suffered a dislocated hip for at least a month, according to Island Vet, before they were able to treat him.  Since the dislocation was so long standing, they ended up replacing the ball of the hip joint with an artificial one.  Gunner is expected to make a full recovery.

Gunner is Pet of the Week (LiveStream video).

Mischa:  Ha!  That’s funny.

Me:  Awesome.

Mischa:  Although, what about replacing the word “fucking” with “damn”?

Me:  Shibas swear.

Mischa:  No they don’t.

Me:  Yeah, they do.

Mischa:  Tierce doesn’t swear. He mutters.

Me:  Just because he mutters profanity under his breath doesn’t mean he’s not swearing.

Mischa:  It just sounds crass.

Me:  And Tierce screaming because he doesn’t like his nails clipped isn’t?

Mischa:  That’s not “crass”.  That’s “shrill”.

Me:  Look, I’m the damn writer here.

Mischa: You see?  Damn sounds a lot better.

Me:  Yes.  In context.  In my world, Shibas swear.

Mischa:  Tierce would never be so crass.

Tierce:  That’s right.

Me:  Oh, don’t play us off against each other.

Tierce:  Why not?  Either way, I win.  Being a dog is awesome.

Me:  How about a nice refreshing bath and nail clip?

Tierce:  Fuck that shit.

Me:  YOU SEE?

Mischa:  I just heard a mutter.

Tierce:  You’re both arguing over interpreting a dog’s body language and sounds into the English language.  Priceless.  The only thing better would be for you to blog about this.

Me:  Hey, that’s a great idea!

Tierce:  @#*&!

Me: Hey, look, Tierce. I got my Groomy Pet On The Desk Shiba today. Isn’t it cute?

Tierce: Meh.

Me: Awww! How could woo wot wuv him?

Tierce: Look, is this a toy for me to destroy? Because otherwise I’m not interested.

Me: Oh wook at twa wittow puppy.

Tierce: Not impressed. Not. In. The. Slightest.

Me: Mischa and I have discussed it and we’ve decided that since you’re not a cute puppy anymore, the Groomy is going to replace you.

Tierce: You see this? This is the face of a dog who’s going to trip you down the stairs one day.

Me: Yeah, we figured that now that the new dog is here…

Tierce: It’s not a dog. It’s a toy. How much did you waste importing it from Japan, anyway?

Me: …we’ll just tie you out in the yard most of the time…

Tierce: You are pissing me off. Get this thing off my head.

Me: …throw you scraps of food…when we remember, of course…

Tierce: Take this fucking thing off my head or I’m going to spread its stuffing all over the floor before I “accidentally” leave my Kong out in the path leading to the toilet.