" Are They Good With Children?"

[Dante]

As a general rule, Chi's aren't really suitable in homes with children under the age of 12. This is for the safety of the dog and the kids. But of course there are always exceptions to the rule and some kids can be good with them, provided there is adequate supervision and understanding that they can be hurt easily if the are dropped, fallen on top of etc.

[newfsie]

Two of my newfies are totally tolerant of kids, even screaming, pulling , grabbing kids..Especially my Katy, she loves it. It is a very tolerant breed. But my Rescue newfie Annabelle is only good with polite and well behaved kids, especially girls.

Supervise, supervise........it is really the only way. And as soon as stress signs are seen , remove the dog. Annabelle is very obvious with her calming signs, so I just move her away.....

It depends on how they were raised and what the kids are like. My BC cross Golden is good with kids, but I am not sude how she would be with rough kids, she just leaves.

I think in general, newfies are good with kids.......

[ncarter]

This question says ignorance in big bold letters to me. The type of people who let their kids ride the dog like a horse? give me a calm, gentle child and my dogs will love them. Too much rough-housing, hugging and face-to-face contact and they will definitely growl or give a warning nip eventually. Unfortunately i've found not too many parents are concerned about supervising their children with my dogs when they come around here, mostly i think due to them being small they think they are incapable of doing any harm

Edited July 18, 2012 by ncarter

[Esky the husky]

It's interesting that some breed standards mention temperament with regards to children.

Rottweiler

Behaviour and character. Being good natured, placid in basic disposition and fond of children, he is very devoted, obedient, biddable and eager to work.

and another (however this breed is not found here yet so slighty irrelevant)

The Chinook is an affectionate and playful family companion with a special devotion toward children.

First two I could think of that mention children off the top of my head.

Would be interesting to hear what owners of dogs say when addressing these questions.

Edited July 18, 2012 by Esky the husky

[Sue]

I always liked this story about the Bull Terrier.

:laugh:

Haven't we all been asked this question many times? Yes, if raised with children, a bull terrier is a perfect companion; gentle and aware of the child's fragility. Haven't we all watched a great lump of dog play quietly on the floor with babies, then without warning hurl itself upon an unsuspecting adult with sufficient force to practically land him in the intensive care unit? So I would like to ask this question - Are Bull Terriers Good With Adults? Not one of my dogs has ever laid a tooth on me, but the damage to my person has, over the years been considerable.

One rainy morning I was standing in the driveway watching my husband back out the car when Muffin came flat out around the corner of the house carrying a length of 2 x 4. What she was intending to do with this piece of lumber has never been determined - it is possible that she was becoming bored with the demolition trade and was about to enter the construction business. Turning at her approach, I received the full impact of the wood on my shinbone and was knocked to the ground by the force where I lay screaming with pain and fury. Muff observed this odd behaviour for a moment, then deciding that she had heard all those words before (usually directed at her anyway), she retrieved her wooden weapon, and spinning it around with the grace and agility of a baton twirler, connected neatly with the back of my head as I was attempting to get to my feet. The impact returned me to my previous horizontal position, this time face down. My husband, who witnessed the entire performance informed me later that the timing was superb - worthy of the best Keystone Cops or Marx Brothers. But he delayed his departure, herded the menace into her kennel and inquired through his merriment if I was hurt. Stating I thought I might live long enough to murder the wretched bitch, I was helped to my feet but found I could not put any weight on the injured leg and my scalp was cut and bleeding - so a trip to the accident room of the local hospital was thought advisable.

Being my first visit for emergency treatment, I was not prepared for the volume of information required. Name, address, occupation are routine - but how, when and why!....(I am an obstetrical nurse and our patients are admitted onto the floor with a minimum of questions. We know why they are there, and we know how it happened and we assume the patient knows too, although sometimes one wonders)!

The admitting nurse was efficient and thorough. Vital statistics dealt with came unexpected questions. "Now, how did this accident happen?" "Well," I said, "You see my dog had this big piece of wood in her mouth and she hit me with it."

"Your dog?" "Yes." "I see, - and the head wound?" "Well my dog did that too." "With a piece of wood?" "Yes, - it was the same piece of wood actually." "I see."

"Well," I said, coming quickly to Muffin's defence," of course she didn't mean to, she sort of spun around and she had this piece of wood in her mouth, you see - and, well-she hit me with it - I was sitting in the driveway at the time..."

Our local hospital does not have a psychiatric floor but I could see by the expression on the nurse's face that she was aware of the desperate need for one.

I was X-Rayed, treated amid controlled giggles from the staff, and released.

The next major incident followed swiftly. (Minor ones occur almost daily.) The paddock gate is, of necessity, sturdily built of oak and heavy. It opens inward. Every day I collect each dog after his play period.

I call them from whatever act of mayhem they may be committing, push open the gate and bend down ready to snap on the lead. For three hundred and sixty four days of the year Bloody Mary had galloped to the gate, come around it, and been leashed in the usual fashion. On this particular day, whether due to a whim, or perhaps because the moon was in Aquarius she chose to project herself at approximately the speed of light from the far corner of the paddock, and instead of coming around the gate, she leapt at it with all the force of her fifty pounds of muscle, slamming it shut on my head. I went down like a pole-axed ox, and remained down and out long enough for the murderous beast to remove and eat the bait-biscuits from my pocket - she also removed and apparently ate the pocket. A small hairpiece I was wearing has never been seen again - presumably it was quickly killed and buried. Staggering into a lawn chair I sat holding my head and considering an early retirement from dog breeding, while Mary amused herself by eating the geraniums.

This pastoral scene continued for awhile until my neighbor drove up, took one look at me, and insisted - yes, you guessed it - on a trip to the Emergency Room.

The last thing I wished to do on this earth was return to the hospital where, after the Muffin episode, there exists some doubt as to my sanity - I am known locally as "that kook who lives up on the hill with those funny looking white things she says are dogs". But feeling too sick to argue or resist I was firmly placed in the car and hurried off to my fate.

And so it came to pass that once again I presented myself at the local Emergency Room. Of course, the admitting nurse was the same as before, the staff also. Approaching the desk in embarrassed misery - torn clothing, wild hair, a great lump on my forehead and eyes blackening fast, I am greeted by an obviously wary nurse - "Goodness, Mrs. Arnaud, sit down. Whatever happened to you now?" I take a deep breath, (Oh God will get you for this Bloody Mary) and with visions of padded cells looming large in my future, "Well," I said "you see - my dog..."

Are Bull Terriers Good With Children?

Oh yes. They are lovely.

Are Bull Terriers Good With Adults?

Well I am an adult and they are not good with me, and I have the scars - my body, my furniture, and my psyche - to prove it.

Acknowledgement COLKET - 1976

[melzawelza]

I always liked this story about the Bull Terrier.

:laugh:

Haven't we all been asked this question many times? Yes, if raised with children, a bull terrier is a perfect companion; gentle and aware of the child's fragility. Haven't we all watched a great lump of dog play quietly on the floor with babies, then without warning hurl itself upon an unsuspecting adult with sufficient force to practically land him in the intensive care unit? So I would like to ask this question - Are Bull Terriers Good With Adults? Not one of my dogs has ever laid a tooth on me, but the damage to my person has, over the years been considerable.

One rainy morning I was standing in the driveway watching my husband back out the car when Muffin came flat out around the corner of the house carrying a length of 2 x 4. What she was intending to do with this piece of lumber has never been determined - it is possible that she was becoming bored with the demolition trade and was about to enter the construction business. Turning at her approach, I received the full impact of the wood on my shinbone and was knocked to the ground by the force where I lay screaming with pain and fury. Muff observed this odd behaviour for a moment, then deciding that she had heard all those words before (usually directed at her anyway), she retrieved her wooden weapon, and spinning it around with the grace and agility of a baton twirler, connected neatly with the back of my head as I was attempting to get to my feet. The impact returned me to my previous horizontal position, this time face down. My husband, who witnessed the entire performance informed me later that the timing was superb - worthy of the best Keystone Cops or Marx Brothers. But he delayed his departure, herded the menace into her kennel and inquired through his merriment if I was hurt. Stating I thought I might live long enough to murder the wretched bitch, I was helped to my feet but found I could not put any weight on the injured leg and my scalp was cut and bleeding - so a trip to the accident room of the local hospital was thought advisable.

Being my first visit for emergency treatment, I was not prepared for the volume of information required. Name, address, occupation are routine - but how, when and why!....(I am an obstetrical nurse and our patients are admitted onto the floor with a minimum of questions. We know why they are there, and we know how it happened and we assume the patient knows too, although sometimes one wonders)!

The admitting nurse was efficient and thorough. Vital statistics dealt with came unexpected questions. "Now, how did this accident happen?" "Well," I said, "You see my dog had this big piece of wood in her mouth and she hit me with it."

"Your dog?" "Yes." "I see, - and the head wound?" "Well my dog did that too." "With a piece of wood?" "Yes, - it was the same piece of wood actually." "I see."

"Well," I said, coming quickly to Muffin's defence," of course she didn't mean to, she sort of spun around and she had this piece of wood in her mouth, you see - and, well-she hit me with it - I was sitting in the driveway at the time..."

Our local hospital does not have a psychiatric floor but I could see by the expression on the nurse's face that she was aware of the desperate need for one.

I was X-Rayed, treated amid controlled giggles from the staff, and released.

The next major incident followed swiftly. (Minor ones occur almost daily.) The paddock gate is, of necessity, sturdily built of oak and heavy. It opens inward. Every day I collect each dog after his play period.

I call them from whatever act of mayhem they may be committing, push open the gate and bend down ready to snap on the lead. For three hundred and sixty four days of the year Bloody Mary had galloped to the gate, come around it, and been leashed in the usual fashion. On this particular day, whether due to a whim, or perhaps because the moon was in Aquarius she chose to project herself at approximately the speed of light from the far corner of the paddock, and instead of coming around the gate, she leapt at it with all the force of her fifty pounds of muscle, slamming it shut on my head. I went down like a pole-axed ox, and remained down and out long enough for the murderous beast to remove and eat the bait-biscuits from my pocket - she also removed and apparently ate the pocket. A small hairpiece I was wearing has never been seen again - presumably it was quickly killed and buried. Staggering into a lawn chair I sat holding my head and considering an early retirement from dog breeding, while Mary amused herself by eating the geraniums.

This pastoral scene continued for awhile until my neighbor drove up, took one look at me, and insisted - yes, you guessed it - on a trip to the Emergency Room.

The last thing I wished to do on this earth was return to the hospital where, after the Muffin episode, there exists some doubt as to my sanity - I am known locally as "that kook who lives up on the hill with those funny looking white things she says are dogs". But feeling too sick to argue or resist I was firmly placed in the car and hurried off to my fate.

And so it came to pass that once again I presented myself at the local Emergency Room. Of course, the admitting nurse was the same as before, the staff also. Approaching the desk in embarrassed misery - torn clothing, wild hair, a great lump on my forehead and eyes blackening fast, I am greeted by an obviously wary nurse - "Goodness, Mrs. Arnaud, sit down. Whatever happened to you now?" I take a deep breath, (Oh God will get you for this Bloody Mary) and with visions of padded cells looming large in my future, "Well," I said "you see - my dog..."

Are Bull Terriers Good With Children?

Oh yes. They are lovely.

Are Bull Terriers Good With Adults?

Well I am an adult and they are not good with me, and I have the scars - my body, my furniture, and my psyche - to prove it.

Acknowledgement COLKET - 1976

:rofl: That is perfect!!!

[Guest]

I don't think u can judge a breed as being good with kids coz if u do then some dumb parent will let their kid go up to a dog that is a "good with kids breed" and sure enough it will be the one dog that hates kids and/or small or loud people n there will be a accident!

In saying that I work in a boarding kennel n my lil girl was coming to work with me from 3mths. She would be in the baby wrap (like a baby bjorn for a newborn) attached to me while I walked , fed n played with all the dogs. Then cleaning the pens she was still in there n slept through the sound of a high pressure cleaner! Lol once she could sit up she would be in the carrier while we played with the big dogs then she sat on my lap while we sat down n played with certain smaller dogs that were regulars n I trusted - there were other regular small dogs I didn't trust n would carrier her for their play. I guess it's the parents job to teach the kids about it - I was sure that my girl was safe in the above situation n that the dogs in question were not a risk to her. They were all different breeds but good family pets, if we met each of those dogs out n about I prob might not be so willing to let them lick her face like I did at the kennels. I own the most timid dog u could meet the breed he is is 'good with kids, people and other animals' but to look at him u would prob expect him to snap at a kid! Funnily enough he is not a biter but more a pee himselfer. Kids think this is funny n coz he has no tail parents think he looks funny so the poor lil dude never gets a break parents r constantly sending their hypo kids up to chase him n yell at him. No matter how much I ask them to stop I can't kick a strangers kid in the butt to leave my poor dog alone n the parents think its hilarious. My dog did like kids til this happened too many times n now he can't go out in public as people think he's a side show freak n harness him to the point where he can't breathe his so scared. It's not dogs being good with kids it's kids being good with dogs n unfortunately there r more bad tempermented kids out there then bad tempermented dogs!

[HugL]

Get a GSD! Never been asked despite all mine being raised with my own kids and all their friends.

When I was pregnant, I was constantly being told to get rid of my GSD. Apparently the other dog was fine despite being a neurotic GSDxDobe???

Edited July 21, 2012 by HugL

[SarahJ88]

Goldens are the same, people just assume they are fantastic with kids but like any breed they need training, the children need training even the adults need training.

Honey's only a puppy so she's still bouncy so I don't like any toddler near her and even today I noticed she jumped up at my 11 yr old so I got her to do the back turn and arm crossed trick to ignore her.

We're all working on basic manners and look so she now will look at everyone in the eyes without feeling we're threatening her. I've also been taking treats and toys from her and then as she makes no complaints she gets them back with praise. I try to think of what kids will do to a dog as kids don't think.

I think it all comes down to the childrens ages in regards to injuries to a pup or how sensitive certain breeds are and the fact new owners really need to understand it's all about training no matter what the breed is.

I have to agree, we have Ava who is 2 in october and unfortunately we don't relaly know alot of children that to be honest are nice enough that we wanted her to socialise with so unfortunately she didn't socialise with kids much at all, when we do have children over now she is outside with them inside and is extremely interested in who they are (because there her height obviously) but wish we knew children so I could have socialised her more but it might be a bit weird going to a school or something and saying "hey, I have a dog that I want to meet some kids can you help me out?" lol

[asal]

I always liked this story about the Bull Terrier.

:laugh:

Haven't we all been asked this question many times? Yes, if raised with children, a bull terrier is a perfect companion; gentle and aware of the child's fragility. Haven't we all watched a great lump of dog play quietly on the floor with babies, then without warning hurl itself upon an unsuspecting adult with sufficient force to practically land him in the intensive care unit? So I would like to ask this question - Are Bull Terriers Good With Adults? Not one of my dogs has ever laid a tooth on me, but the damage to my person has, over the years been considerable.

One rainy morning I was standing in the driveway watching my husband back out the car when Muffin came flat out around the corner of the house carrying a length of 2 x 4. What she was intending to do with this piece of lumber has never been determined - it is possible that she was becoming bored with the demolition trade and was about to enter the construction business. Turning at her approach, I received the full impact of the wood on my shinbone and was knocked to the ground by the force where I lay screaming with pain and fury. Muff observed this odd behaviour for a moment, then deciding that she had heard all those words before (usually directed at her anyway), she retrieved her wooden weapon, and spinning it around with the grace and agility of a baton twirler, connected neatly with the back of my head as I was attempting to get to my feet. The impact returned me to my previous horizontal position, this time face down. My husband, who witnessed the entire performance informed me later that the timing was superb - worthy of the best Keystone Cops or Marx Brothers. But he delayed his departure, herded the menace into her kennel and inquired through his merriment if I was hurt. Stating I thought I might live long enough to murder the wretched bitch, I was helped to my feet but found I could not put any weight on the injured leg and my scalp was cut and bleeding - so a trip to the accident room of the local hospital was thought advisable.

Being my first visit for emergency treatment, I was not prepared for the volume of information required. Name, address, occupation are routine - but how, when and why!....(I am an obstetrical nurse and our patients are admitted onto the floor with a minimum of questions. We know why they are there, and we know how it happened and we assume the patient knows too, although sometimes one wonders)!

The admitting nurse was efficient and thorough. Vital statistics dealt with came unexpected questions. "Now, how did this accident happen?" "Well," I said, "You see my dog had this big piece of wood in her mouth and she hit me with it."

"Your dog?" "Yes." "I see, - and the head wound?" "Well my dog did that too." "With a piece of wood?" "Yes, - it was the same piece of wood actually." "I see."

"Well," I said, coming quickly to Muffin's defence," of course she didn't mean to, she sort of spun around and she had this piece of wood in her mouth, you see - and, well-she hit me with it - I was sitting in the driveway at the time..."

Our local hospital does not have a psychiatric floor but I could see by the expression on the nurse's face that she was aware of the desperate need for one.

I was X-Rayed, treated amid controlled giggles from the staff, and released.

The next major incident followed swiftly. (Minor ones occur almost daily.) The paddock gate is, of necessity, sturdily built of oak and heavy. It opens inward. Every day I collect each dog after his play period.

I call them from whatever act of mayhem they may be committing, push open the gate and bend down ready to snap on the lead. For three hundred and sixty four days of the year Bloody Mary had galloped to the gate, come around it, and been leashed in the usual fashion. On this particular day, whether due to a whim, or perhaps because the moon was in Aquarius she chose to project herself at approximately the speed of light from the far corner of the paddock, and instead of coming around the gate, she leapt at it with all the force of her fifty pounds of muscle, slamming it shut on my head. I went down like a pole-axed ox, and remained down and out long enough for the murderous beast to remove and eat the bait-biscuits from my pocket - she also removed and apparently ate the pocket. A small hairpiece I was wearing has never been seen again - presumably it was quickly killed and buried. Staggering into a lawn chair I sat holding my head and considering an early retirement from dog breeding, while Mary amused herself by eating the geraniums.

This pastoral scene continued for awhile until my neighbor drove up, took one look at me, and insisted - yes, you guessed it - on a trip to the Emergency Room.

The last thing I wished to do on this earth was return to the hospital where, after the Muffin episode, there exists some doubt as to my sanity - I am known locally as "that kook who lives up on the hill with those funny looking white things she says are dogs". But feeling too sick to argue or resist I was firmly placed in the car and hurried off to my fate.

And so it came to pass that once again I presented myself at the local Emergency Room. Of course, the admitting nurse was the same as before, the staff also. Approaching the desk in embarrassed misery - torn clothing, wild hair, a great lump on my forehead and eyes blackening fast, I am greeted by an obviously wary nurse - "Goodness, Mrs. Arnaud, sit down. Whatever happened to you now?" I take a deep breath, (Oh God will get you for this Bloody Mary) and with visions of padded cells looming large in my future, "Well," I said "you see - my dog..."

Are Bull Terriers Good With Children?

Oh yes. They are lovely.

Are Bull Terriers Good With Adults?

Well I am an adult and they are not good with me, and I have the scars - my body, my furniture, and my psyche - to prove it.

Acknowledgement COLKET - 1976

Ho love it.

my friend Colin's, Boxer can do the same without needing to carry a stick, his undocked tail is about the same weight and damage capacity as a baseball bat.

I learned from experience. You seem to get the same sort of look when trying to explain.

yes I've been kneecapped. how? the boxer did it. no not a boxing human. the dog.

a boxer dog.. canine dog... his breed is boxer....... ummm dont think they believe me somehow.?

how did it?

with his tail.

nope they think Im not going to admit hubby did it I suspect.

maybe you should always take the doggy weapon of mass distruction with you perhaps

[trinabean]

I always liked this story about the Bull Terrier.

:laugh:

Haven't we all been asked this question many times? Yes, if raised with children, a bull terrier is a perfect companion; gentle and aware of the child's fragility. Haven't we all watched a great lump of dog play quietly on the floor with babies, then without warning hurl itself upon an unsuspecting adult with sufficient force to practically land him in the intensive care unit? So I would like to ask this question - Are Bull Terriers Good With Adults? Not one of my dogs has ever laid a tooth on me, but the damage to my person has, over the years been considerable.

One rainy morning I was standing in the driveway watching my husband back out the car when Muffin came flat out around the corner of the house carrying a length of 2 x 4. What she was intending to do with this piece of lumber has never been determined - it is possible that she was becoming bored with the demolition trade and was about to enter the construction business. Turning at her approach, I received the full impact of the wood on my shinbone and was knocked to the ground by the force where I lay screaming with pain and fury. Muff observed this odd behaviour for a moment, then deciding that she had heard all those words before (usually directed at her anyway), she retrieved her wooden weapon, and spinning it around with the grace and agility of a baton twirler, connected neatly with the back of my head as I was attempting to get to my feet. The impact returned me to my previous horizontal position, this time face down. My husband, who witnessed the entire performance informed me later that the timing was superb - worthy of the best Keystone Cops or Marx Brothers. But he delayed his departure, herded the menace into her kennel and inquired through his merriment if I was hurt. Stating I thought I might live long enough to murder the wretched bitch, I was helped to my feet but found I could not put any weight on the injured leg and my scalp was cut and bleeding - so a trip to the accident room of the local hospital was thought advisable.

Being my first visit for emergency treatment, I was not prepared for the volume of information required. Name, address, occupation are routine - but how, when and why!....(I am an obstetrical nurse and our patients are admitted onto the floor with a minimum of questions. We know why they are there, and we know how it happened and we assume the patient knows too, although sometimes one wonders)!

The admitting nurse was efficient and thorough. Vital statistics dealt with came unexpected questions. "Now, how did this accident happen?" "Well," I said, "You see my dog had this big piece of wood in her mouth and she hit me with it."

"Your dog?" "Yes." "I see, - and the head wound?" "Well my dog did that too." "With a piece of wood?" "Yes, - it was the same piece of wood actually." "I see."

"Well," I said, coming quickly to Muffin's defence," of course she didn't mean to, she sort of spun around and she had this piece of wood in her mouth, you see - and, well-she hit me with it - I was sitting in the driveway at the time..."

Our local hospital does not have a psychiatric floor but I could see by the expression on the nurse's face that she was aware of the desperate need for one.

I was X-Rayed, treated amid controlled giggles from the staff, and released.

The next major incident followed swiftly. (Minor ones occur almost daily.) The paddock gate is, of necessity, sturdily built of oak and heavy. It opens inward. Every day I collect each dog after his play period.

I call them from whatever act of mayhem they may be committing, push open the gate and bend down ready to snap on the lead. For three hundred and sixty four days of the year Bloody Mary had galloped to the gate, come around it, and been leashed in the usual fashion. On this particular day, whether due to a whim, or perhaps because the moon was in Aquarius she chose to project herself at approximately the speed of light from the far corner of the paddock, and instead of coming around the gate, she leapt at it with all the force of her fifty pounds of muscle, slamming it shut on my head. I went down like a pole-axed ox, and remained down and out long enough for the murderous beast to remove and eat the bait-biscuits from my pocket - she also removed and apparently ate the pocket. A small hairpiece I was wearing has never been seen again - presumably it was quickly killed and buried. Staggering into a lawn chair I sat holding my head and considering an early retirement from dog breeding, while Mary amused herself by eating the geraniums.

This pastoral scene continued for awhile until my neighbor drove up, took one look at me, and insisted - yes, you guessed it - on a trip to the Emergency Room.

The last thing I wished to do on this earth was return to the hospital where, after the Muffin episode, there exists some doubt as to my sanity - I am known locally as "that kook who lives up on the hill with those funny looking white things she says are dogs". But feeling too sick to argue or resist I was firmly placed in the car and hurried off to my fate.

And so it came to pass that once again I presented myself at the local Emergency Room. Of course, the admitting nurse was the same as before, the staff also. Approaching the desk in embarrassed misery - torn clothing, wild hair, a great lump on my forehead and eyes blackening fast, I am greeted by an obviously wary nurse - "Goodness, Mrs. Arnaud, sit down. Whatever happened to you now?" I take a deep breath, (Oh God will get you for this Bloody Mary) and with visions of padded cells looming large in my future, "Well," I said "you see - my dog..."

Are Bull Terriers Good With Children?

Oh yes. They are lovely.

Are Bull Terriers Good With Adults?

Well I am an adult and they are not good with me, and I have the scars - my body, my furniture, and my psyche - to prove it.

Acknowledgement COLKET - 1976

Ho love it.

my friend Colin's, Boxer can do the same without needing to carry a stick, his undocked tail is about the same weight and damage capacity as a baseball bat.

I learned from experience. You seem to get the same sort of look when trying to explain.

yes I've been kneecapped. how? the boxer did it. no not a boxing human. the dog.

a boxer dog.. canine dog... his breed is boxer....... ummm dont think they believe me somehow.?

how did it?

with his tail.

nope they think Im not going to admit hubby did it I suspect.

maybe you should always take the doggy weapon of mass distruction with you perhaps

Well, I believe you Asal. And here I would have popped a *winky man*

Small consolation, but that kind of helicopter tail means Colin's boxer reeeeeaaally loves you. :)