Stare-Way to Hell

What is the most powerful weapon in the arsenal of the modern, domesticated dog?

You might say the teeth. Dog's teeth can be very efficient weapons when used properly. The average dog can bite down on your flesh at a pressure of two thousand pounds per square inch. Prepare for great pain.

But the smart dog will not use this weapon against his owner. The dog knows he's screwed if he does this. Having his balls cut off will be the least of his worries.

I believe I've made it clear to Newman that if he ever full-on bit me out of anger I would promptly grab some pliers and remove his teeth one-by-one without anaesthetic. Just to make it fun, I would keep asking, "Is it safe?", borrowing from a classic scene in the movie The Marathon Man.

This goes for biting other people as well. Unless, of course, if I've instructed him that a particular person needs a good biting.

The claws are another handy weapon. Two things about this. I don't think dogs realize they can use their claws as a weapon. Cats certainly do. But Newman has never thought, I'm pissed right now and I'm gonna claw the shit out of something.

Newman never really uses his claws, except for the odd time when he seems to think that someone has buried a prime rib roast in the backyard and he digs a hole large enough to hold our car.

Secondly, as with the teeth, if Newman intentionally scratched me, he would get the last "peticure" he will ever need.

So what is Newman's most powerful weapon?

The Stare. That penetrating, unforgiving, soul-destroying STARE. My Stare-Way to Hell.

If I am slightly late in giving Newman his daily walk, he will do one thing and one thing only – stare at me. And stare. And stare. And stare. Has the sun burned out yet? Well, he will still be staring. Is the universe at maximum entropy? Newman is still staring.

The stare – so menacing precisely because it is so benign. Almost passive.

If only he would stare and make faces at me, or show some incisors once in a while. Perhaps flip me the paw. Then I could get mad at him.

I can't get mad at him for simply staring. I could scream "stop staring at me" directly in his ear with a bull horn and he would keep staring, wondering if this is the moment we are going for a walk.

No, the stare doesn't chew my flesh. It tears at my willpower. It destroys any sense of independence that I have as a person. Well, I guess marriage does that too.

The worst occurs when he stares at me with the ball resting in his mouth. He will hold onto that ball until all the saliva drains out of his mouth and onto the floor.

Imagine you're being interrogated by the most vile nazi general in Germany. Doesn't even approach the power of Newman's stare.

Cute face. Evil stare. A deadly combination.