Big boy.
Suffice it to say, this dog is strong. He weighs sixty pounds and is much shorter than Judah, who is quite a bit larger in overall size, yet has none of the muscle mass that Israel does.
He is a gentle giant…when he wants to be. And most of the time he’s slamming his head into walls, barreling through any obstacles, and more than once I’ve stubbed my toes on his hocks when I’m walking the dogs hard enough that my eyes water. Today on our walk I was in flip flops and as usual stubbed my toe when our legs got tangled up. I was being sarcastic when I tweeted that I thought I broke it—usually the pain goes away rather quickly. It’s still throbbing some ten hours later. I think it actually did get pretty good and jammed, I’ve already broken that toe anyway. But it just goes to show—he is solid as a rock.
The other week when my parents were over they stood in my backyard and their presence made Judah go crazy, running around like a puppy with Simona chasing after her. I have a very large yard and they ran circles around it. Israel stayed close to my dad, who is probably his second favorite person in the world (aside from me, of course) while the other two kept running. Simona is like a gazelle—a little taller than Israel, but half his weight. She can spring across the length of the yard in three or four leaps. She can jump straight up at least six feet without even trying. She can even do backflips. Israel has none of this grace. If I get him to jump straight up he falls down twice as hard and usually with as much aplomb as a hippo. He doesn’t seem to notice. And then he decided to walk away from my dad, just walk mind you!, while Simona comes rocketing past him—except she slammed into him as he moved in her path at the last second. Israel didn’t move an inch. Simona ended up ass over tea kettle in the air after the sickening THUNK of bone meeting muscle when she ran into him. He didn’t notice, she looked dazed and not a little confused as to what just happened. I couldn’t stop laughing!
And then tonight I bought a can of flea spray for the house, afraid that the cat brought them in, and Simona won’t stop itching!!! like crazy and it’s driving ME insane, even though I’ve checked all the dogs and they don’t have a flea on them, not even flea dirt. She doesn’t even have a rash! But anyway—I had no idea Israel would then become deathly afraid of this can of spray that I had only taken out of the bag. A plain aerosol can had him tucking tail and darting around the house trying to find somewhere to hide. I laughed at him—but it wasn’t really that funny when he managed to get outside and even the temptation of food couldn’t lure him back in.
Have you ever tried to move something that was sixty pounds of pure muscle that didn’t want to move?? It’s not easy. It didn’t help that I found it hilarious and couldn’t stop laughing. There I am on my back step with the kitchen door wide open, Israel between my braced legs, my hands on his collar while I giggle non-stop and he’s not budging an inch. He dug his paws in, braced against the step, and I’m still laughing, barely able to breathe because I find it so hilarious he’s afraid of a can that is nowhere in sight. I finally haul him by his collar (which would’ve slipped off if not for his massive jawbone) into the house where he proceeds to run around, hide under the table, on the bed, behind me, in the front room—anywhere he can try to shield himself from THE CAN OF DOOOOM.
He mistakenly ran into the living room, I was in the hallway following him laughing. There’s nowhere to hide in or under in the front room so he decided to race back to the kitchen for the safety of the table and chairs. Nevermind he decided to run between me and the wall, slamming his giant skull full tilt into my shin bone with such force I thought it was broken. I had to limp around after him, wondering how he didn’t knock himself out since he got between my leg and the wall, which were pressed against each other before he came slamming through. I have a nice bruise now and it’s quite sore. Yay! Add that to my sore, broken toe and I’ve got one heck of a day behind me. Thanks, Israel!
But oddly enough he is my lapdog. This boy looooves to cuddle. He keeps me warm in the winter, snuggled under the covers with me. If I’m on the computer he generally likes to get into my lap. He might be a big sixty pound pit bull, but he will let you cradle him like a baby. He likes it so much that he doesn’t struggle and it’s never awkward—no flailing limbs or stray claws to gouge an eye out. He totally relaxes. Yeah, I’m the crazy white girl living by herself who’ll stand outside holding her pit bull like a baby. And???
