Apollo is my friend Leah's new doggie.
She luvs her baby boy.
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She luvs her baby boy.
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Thinking of George
This is a favorite memory of George...it was a hot summer day and he just loved the cool pavement under the carport.
Last night I had the strongest George urge since he passed.
Don't know where these impulses come from...but I looked at some old video and pics...had a very good cry...and went to bed.
I still really miss Georgie Boy
.
Last night I had the strongest George urge since he passed.
Don't know where these impulses come from...but I looked at some old video and pics...had a very good cry...and went to bed.
I still really miss Georgie Boy
.
Al Tired
Albert has to be the most secure dog on the planet.
He has no fear about anything.
He does get a lot of affection and enjoys getting petted.
He is the opposite of Sally which is a good pairing.
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He has no fear about anything.
He does get a lot of affection and enjoys getting petted.
He is the opposite of Sally which is a good pairing.
.
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Workin' Dayz
Been working 7 days a week...dogs doing well. I keep Albert on a long leash centered so he can get to most of the back yard and under shelter if it rains. I need to finish yard so he can't dig free...half way down and need more funds...but when I complete, he won't have to be on leash when I am gone.
Gotta Luv Dogzzzzz
Ahhhh, nothing like coming home after
a 10 hour work day to find this!
click on pics for full destruction view
a 10 hour work day to find this!
click on pics for full destruction view
Let's see..* blue blanket from the bedroom
* black shoes from the bedroom
* shirts from the bedroom
* socks from the bedroom
* books from the coffee table
* cushions from the couch
* blanket from the couch
Did I mention BOOKS!Yes...the LIBRARY book at $27.95 thank you Sally!
My Memoir to McCheyne...favorite old book chomped
The price of books? $75
The price of love for your hunting and gathering dog?
PRICELESS
Gotta luv dogzzzz
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Dog Fighting & Individual Involvement
This dog was wounded in a dogfight.He got help, but many others are not so lucky.
I have been conducting informal research on the topic of dog fighting. Some of the responses are discouraging, but worth looking at closely.
Human nature being what it is makes people rather predictable. If you are at a public park on a Saturday afternoon with dozens of people having fun on the grass field and you want to throw a ball with your kid, then look down and see a bag of Doritos.
Do you pick it up, especially knowing the trash can is about 3 feet away?
Most people do not. They just go about their activity and if they have a sensitive conscience, do a rapid mental rationalization that goes as follows;
That's what they pay the public park utilities for...I pay my taxes...everyone liters...that's just life...who cares?Then, someone picks up the bag of Doritos. Why? Out of all the people in the park, why did THIS person stop to pick up?
These people interest me.
Now, substitute Doritos for just about anything else, in this case dog fighting.
Some of the feedback I've received when asking for suggestions about getting involved are as follows;
1. Be careful...these guys are serious about their sportBelow are some interesting and excellent ways to get involved...even if you have never seen or heard of fights in your local area.
2. Millions of dollars can be at stake for these fights
3. Contact the law
4. Don't get involved, it's not worth it
5. There is a very wide spectrum of beliefs on what animal abuse is so for the most part I mind my own business...
Taking Action to End Dogfighting
Doghfighting Fact Sheet
Sample Letter 1
Sample Letter 2
Oh, btw, I've spent most of my life looking the other way...which doesn't mean my conscience was numb...it wasn't...I was just lazy.
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Why Do I Get Involved in Animal Rescue
This was written by a journalist (author unknown) but it summarizes well why those in rescue go for it.
As a journalist, I decided to go to the animal, and interview some of the “inmates”. I wanted to know what it was like in there from their perspective. What follows is not for the faint of heart.
Animal Shelter I entered the building, and one of the workers accompanied me to the holding area. This is where dogs are kept before they are allowed up for adoption. IF they are allowed up for adoption. If the dogs are found to be aggressive in any way, euthanasia is employed. Fortunately, if “fortunately” is the word to be used here. In this establishment, and they use lethal injection, not a gas chamber.
The shelter worker led me past a big steel door that says “Employees Only”. “What is in there?” I asked. From the look he gave me, I knew that this is where dogs go in, and never return.
We moved on to a row of kennels. The dogs were barking loudly, there was the acrid smell of urine and feces, and a feeling of despair seemed to permeate the room.
“Go ahead,” the worker said. “They’re all yours.”
PetePitbull
I looked into the first kennel, and saw only the back of a medium sized dog who was curled up in the corner of his kennel, shivering. He was mostly white, with some black spots. “Hello?” I said. “May I come in?” He lifted his head, as though it weighed more than he could bear. When he looked at me, I could see he was a Pitbull. His eyes were gentle, but filled with grief.
“Enter,” was all he said.
I stepped in, closing the gate behind me. He put his head back down, facing away from me. I crouched down a few feet away.
“My name is Pete. Petey my Master called me,” he said, still not looking at me.
“Why are you here Pete?” I asked.
“I am here because Master cannot afford to move. I am here because someone with power said I am vicious, and a killer. Someone who never met me. Master took me for a walk one day, and some lady started to scream when she saw me.
I got frightened, and barked at her. The dog police came, and they took me away. I have been with Master for 10 years. The last time I saw him, he just held me and cried. He kept telling me he was sorry. I worry for him. Whatever will he do without me?” Pete shivered even more.
A tear slid down my face. I am supposed to remain objective, but this was wrong. So wrong.
“Thank you Pete.” I said. He said nothing as I got up and left his kennel.
Popper
Border CollieThe kennel next to Pete’s held a very young looking dog. Pure Border Collie by my guess. He stood on his hind legs, looking at me through the gate.
“Hello. My name’s Popper. He tilted his head. “Are you here to take me home?”
“No, I’m sorry,” I replied. “But I would like to talk with you.”
“Sure. What would you like to talk about?”
“Popper, how did you come to be in this place?” I asked.
Popper dropped down from the gate, with a perplexed look on his face. He walked to the back of the kennel, then back to the front. I noticed he had one blue eye, and one brown. He was quite beautiful. His black and white coat was shiny and thick.
“I am not certain WHY I am here. I think maybe my family will come back for me. They bought me when I was only 6 weeks old. I remember they said how smart Border Collies are, and how it would be so easy to train me. They were very excited at first. The little ones played with me all the time. But the trouble with little Masters is, they refuse to stay in a group. I constantly had to nip their heels to keep them together.”
He looked confused. “Why won’t they stay in a group?” he sighed. “So I did what I thought I should do. I am not quite sure why the little ones screamed when I did my job, but they did, and the Masters got very angry at me. They also got angry when I had to relieve myself, and did so in the house. I am not sure where they expected me to go. All they said was that I was the smartest breed in the world, and I should just KNOW better. Then they left me in the yard for a month or so. I got bored a lot, and I dug holes in the grass. The next thing I knew, the Masters brought me here.”
Popper jumped back up on the gate, his white paws protruding through the links. He looked at me with his lovely eyes, and asked “Will you please let them know I want to come home? Please tell them I promise I will be good?”
“I will Popper,” I said.
SpartanRottweiler
My heart was breaking. I was beginning to regret coming here, but their stories had to be told. I moved along. The next dog I saw looked to be easily 100 lbs., a Rottweiler . He was handsome indeed, except for the scars on his face and back. He tilted his head, and looked me right in the eyes.
“Hello. Who are you?” he asked.
“I am a reporter,” I replied. “May I speak with you for a little while?”
“Most certainly. My name is Spartan. You ca n come in, I won’t bite,” he said.
“Thank you Spartan. I will.”
I entered his kennel, reached out and stroked his giant head. He made a loud grumbling noise, and closed his eyes.
“Spartan, why are you here?”
Before he could answer my question, he was suddenly in the grip of a nasty coughing spasm. It sounded painful.
“Please excuse me,” he said when it passed. “Kennel cough. It seems all of us who come in here get it. “Why am I here? Well, about two years ago, I was born in the backyard of some person I can’t even recall. I had 11 brothers and sisters. I recall a day when a big man came and gave that person some money, and took me away from my mother. They had to chain her up, as she was very angry that he took me. They chained her and beat her.
I came to know the man by the name of Jim. I overheard him telling his friends that I would grow up to be big and mean like my mother. But as I grew older, all I wanted to do was play and be friends wit h everyone. Jim said I needed to be taught how to be mean, so he chained me up in the yard. No more house for me, he said, I was too spoiled.
When people came by to visit, I was so happy to see them. I wanted them to come and play. But that made Jim angry, so he beat me with sticks and chains. When he came near, I would roll onto my back so he would know I wasn’t a bad dog. That made him beat me more.” Spartan’s eyes clouded with grief. “Then he brought me here.”
I reached out and stroked Spartan’s massive gentle head once more. “I am so sorry Spartan. Some people are just plain evil.” I gave him a kiss and left his kennel.
As I walked away, Spartan called out, “What will happen to me, nice lady?”
I shook my head. “I can’t say Spartan. Maybe someone kind will come and get you. We can only hope.”
Patsy
Jack Russell TerrierI walked a little further down. I could see a shape moving at the back of the next kennel. “Hello?” I called out. Suddenly the shape lunged at the gate in a fury, barking and gnashing its teeth. I stumbled backwards, and crashed into an adjacent kennel. The other dogs began barking loudly and jumping at their gates.
“Don’t go near her,” a small female voice came from behind me. “She’s mad.”
I gathered myself back together, and saw a little Jack Russell Terrier behind me.
“Thanks for the warning,” I was still trembling. Across the way, the other dog, apparently a Husky and German Shepherd cross, was glaring at me, lips curled back revealing brown stained teeth. Her ribs and hips showed through her dull, matted grey coat. The little dog invited me into her kennel, and I gladly went in.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Patsy.” The little brown and white dog held a paw up to the gate in greeting.
“My owner surrendered me. She said she wanted a cute little dog like the one on the TV show, Frasier. She didn’t bother to look into the type of dog I am.” Patsy heaved a sigh.
“I suppose she expected me to just lie about and only need a short walk each day, just like Eddie , but my energy was so high that I needed to run and play.” She glanced at her surroundings. “Now I am here. I suppose it could be worse. I could be like.her.” Patsy looked towards the still growling dog across the way.
“What happened to make her so vicious?” I asked.
“From what we could gather,” she replied. “she was found tied in a back yard. She only had a three foot chain. Some days there was no water. Rarely was there any food. One day a nice neighbor came by and brought her some meat. By then it was too late. She was already mad. She broke off her chain, and bit the poor man badly. We know she will be going behind the steel door. I am sad to say, I think it will be best. Perhaps then she will know some peace.”
Just then, the door at the end of the building opened, and a woman stepped inside. All the dogs began to bark wildly, then one by one, they went quiet.
I whispered to Patsy, “Who is that? Why have all the dogs gone quiet?”
Patsy breathed deeply through her little nose, and closed her eyes. “SHE is a Rescuer. Can’t you smell it?” she asked.
“Smell what?” I was confused.
“Compassion. Love. Sorrow. It emanates from her pores. She is here for one of us, but nobody knows who just yet.” Patsy looked hopeful.
The Rescuer moved from kennel to kennel, looking at each dog. I sat quietly watching. I could see tears in her eyes as she made eye contact with each one. She stopped at Spartan’s cage and spoke quietly to him..
“No more beatings my man. No more. You are coming with me.. From here on in, it’s all going to get better.”
The Rescuer produced a leash, opened the kennel door, and took Spartan away. As he walked beside her, his little stubby tail wagged with delight.
Patsy sighed again. I could see the disappointment in her eyes, and it grieved me. They all had the same look, as they watched The Rescuer depart.
“I am so sorry Patsy,” I said in a whisper. “But you are a little dog, and everyone loves little dogs. I am convinced you will be rescued soon.” Patsy’s brown eyes twinkled at me, a little bit of hope returning.
I had heard and seen enough. I needed to tell people how it was for these unfortunate creatures. They were all here through no fault of their own. I stood to leave. I passed by many other dogs I did not interview, looking at each one, wishing I could take them all home with me and give them the love they deserved. I stood by the door taking one last glance back, when it opened, and one of the pound workers came in. His face was drawn and sad. He walked by without a word, and stopped at Pete’s kennel. I heard him take a deep breath, then he paused, and opened the kennel door.
The words were muffled, but I am sure I heard him say “I’m sorry old boy.”
He came out, with Petey in tow. The old dog’s head hung down in resignation, and they both disappeared behind the big steel door.
As a journalist, I decided to go to the animal, and interview some of the “inmates”. I wanted to know what it was like in there from their perspective. What follows is not for the faint of heart.
Animal Shelter I entered the building, and one of the workers accompanied me to the holding area. This is where dogs are kept before they are allowed up for adoption. IF they are allowed up for adoption. If the dogs are found to be aggressive in any way, euthanasia is employed. Fortunately, if “fortunately” is the word to be used here. In this establishment, and they use lethal injection, not a gas chamber.
The shelter worker led me past a big steel door that says “Employees Only”. “What is in there?” I asked. From the look he gave me, I knew that this is where dogs go in, and never return.
We moved on to a row of kennels. The dogs were barking loudly, there was the acrid smell of urine and feces, and a feeling of despair seemed to permeate the room.
“Go ahead,” the worker said. “They’re all yours.”
PetePitbull
I looked into the first kennel, and saw only the back of a medium sized dog who was curled up in the corner of his kennel, shivering. He was mostly white, with some black spots. “Hello?” I said. “May I come in?” He lifted his head, as though it weighed more than he could bear. When he looked at me, I could see he was a Pitbull. His eyes were gentle, but filled with grief.
“Enter,” was all he said.
I stepped in, closing the gate behind me. He put his head back down, facing away from me. I crouched down a few feet away.
“My name is Pete. Petey my Master called me,” he said, still not looking at me.
“Why are you here Pete?” I asked.
“I am here because Master cannot afford to move. I am here because someone with power said I am vicious, and a killer. Someone who never met me. Master took me for a walk one day, and some lady started to scream when she saw me.
I got frightened, and barked at her. The dog police came, and they took me away. I have been with Master for 10 years. The last time I saw him, he just held me and cried. He kept telling me he was sorry. I worry for him. Whatever will he do without me?” Pete shivered even more.
A tear slid down my face. I am supposed to remain objective, but this was wrong. So wrong.
“Thank you Pete.” I said. He said nothing as I got up and left his kennel.
Popper
Border CollieThe kennel next to Pete’s held a very young looking dog. Pure Border Collie by my guess. He stood on his hind legs, looking at me through the gate.
“Hello. My name’s Popper. He tilted his head. “Are you here to take me home?”
“No, I’m sorry,” I replied. “But I would like to talk with you.”
“Sure. What would you like to talk about?”
“Popper, how did you come to be in this place?” I asked.
Popper dropped down from the gate, with a perplexed look on his face. He walked to the back of the kennel, then back to the front. I noticed he had one blue eye, and one brown. He was quite beautiful. His black and white coat was shiny and thick.
“I am not certain WHY I am here. I think maybe my family will come back for me. They bought me when I was only 6 weeks old. I remember they said how smart Border Collies are, and how it would be so easy to train me. They were very excited at first. The little ones played with me all the time. But the trouble with little Masters is, they refuse to stay in a group. I constantly had to nip their heels to keep them together.”
He looked confused. “Why won’t they stay in a group?” he sighed. “So I did what I thought I should do. I am not quite sure why the little ones screamed when I did my job, but they did, and the Masters got very angry at me. They also got angry when I had to relieve myself, and did so in the house. I am not sure where they expected me to go. All they said was that I was the smartest breed in the world, and I should just KNOW better. Then they left me in the yard for a month or so. I got bored a lot, and I dug holes in the grass. The next thing I knew, the Masters brought me here.”
Popper jumped back up on the gate, his white paws protruding through the links. He looked at me with his lovely eyes, and asked “Will you please let them know I want to come home? Please tell them I promise I will be good?”
“I will Popper,” I said.
SpartanRottweiler
My heart was breaking. I was beginning to regret coming here, but their stories had to be told. I moved along. The next dog I saw looked to be easily 100 lbs., a Rottweiler . He was handsome indeed, except for the scars on his face and back. He tilted his head, and looked me right in the eyes.
“Hello. Who are you?” he asked.
“I am a reporter,” I replied. “May I speak with you for a little while?”
“Most certainly. My name is Spartan. You ca n come in, I won’t bite,” he said.
“Thank you Spartan. I will.”
I entered his kennel, reached out and stroked his giant head. He made a loud grumbling noise, and closed his eyes.
“Spartan, why are you here?”
Before he could answer my question, he was suddenly in the grip of a nasty coughing spasm. It sounded painful.
“Please excuse me,” he said when it passed. “Kennel cough. It seems all of us who come in here get it. “Why am I here? Well, about two years ago, I was born in the backyard of some person I can’t even recall. I had 11 brothers and sisters. I recall a day when a big man came and gave that person some money, and took me away from my mother. They had to chain her up, as she was very angry that he took me. They chained her and beat her.
I came to know the man by the name of Jim. I overheard him telling his friends that I would grow up to be big and mean like my mother. But as I grew older, all I wanted to do was play and be friends wit h everyone. Jim said I needed to be taught how to be mean, so he chained me up in the yard. No more house for me, he said, I was too spoiled.
When people came by to visit, I was so happy to see them. I wanted them to come and play. But that made Jim angry, so he beat me with sticks and chains. When he came near, I would roll onto my back so he would know I wasn’t a bad dog. That made him beat me more.” Spartan’s eyes clouded with grief. “Then he brought me here.”
I reached out and stroked Spartan’s massive gentle head once more. “I am so sorry Spartan. Some people are just plain evil.” I gave him a kiss and left his kennel.
As I walked away, Spartan called out, “What will happen to me, nice lady?”
I shook my head. “I can’t say Spartan. Maybe someone kind will come and get you. We can only hope.”
Patsy
Jack Russell TerrierI walked a little further down. I could see a shape moving at the back of the next kennel. “Hello?” I called out. Suddenly the shape lunged at the gate in a fury, barking and gnashing its teeth. I stumbled backwards, and crashed into an adjacent kennel. The other dogs began barking loudly and jumping at their gates.
“Don’t go near her,” a small female voice came from behind me. “She’s mad.”
I gathered myself back together, and saw a little Jack Russell Terrier behind me.
“Thanks for the warning,” I was still trembling. Across the way, the other dog, apparently a Husky and German Shepherd cross, was glaring at me, lips curled back revealing brown stained teeth. Her ribs and hips showed through her dull, matted grey coat. The little dog invited me into her kennel, and I gladly went in.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Patsy.” The little brown and white dog held a paw up to the gate in greeting.
“My owner surrendered me. She said she wanted a cute little dog like the one on the TV show, Frasier. She didn’t bother to look into the type of dog I am.” Patsy heaved a sigh.
“I suppose she expected me to just lie about and only need a short walk each day, just like Eddie , but my energy was so high that I needed to run and play.” She glanced at her surroundings. “Now I am here. I suppose it could be worse. I could be like.her.” Patsy looked towards the still growling dog across the way.
“What happened to make her so vicious?” I asked.
“From what we could gather,” she replied. “she was found tied in a back yard. She only had a three foot chain. Some days there was no water. Rarely was there any food. One day a nice neighbor came by and brought her some meat. By then it was too late. She was already mad. She broke off her chain, and bit the poor man badly. We know she will be going behind the steel door. I am sad to say, I think it will be best. Perhaps then she will know some peace.”
Just then, the door at the end of the building opened, and a woman stepped inside. All the dogs began to bark wildly, then one by one, they went quiet.
I whispered to Patsy, “Who is that? Why have all the dogs gone quiet?”
Patsy breathed deeply through her little nose, and closed her eyes. “SHE is a Rescuer. Can’t you smell it?” she asked.
“Smell what?” I was confused.
“Compassion. Love. Sorrow. It emanates from her pores. She is here for one of us, but nobody knows who just yet.” Patsy looked hopeful.
The Rescuer moved from kennel to kennel, looking at each dog. I sat quietly watching. I could see tears in her eyes as she made eye contact with each one. She stopped at Spartan’s cage and spoke quietly to him..
“No more beatings my man. No more. You are coming with me.. From here on in, it’s all going to get better.”
The Rescuer produced a leash, opened the kennel door, and took Spartan away. As he walked beside her, his little stubby tail wagged with delight.
Patsy sighed again. I could see the disappointment in her eyes, and it grieved me. They all had the same look, as they watched The Rescuer depart.
“I am so sorry Patsy,” I said in a whisper. “But you are a little dog, and everyone loves little dogs. I am convinced you will be rescued soon.” Patsy’s brown eyes twinkled at me, a little bit of hope returning.
I had heard and seen enough. I needed to tell people how it was for these unfortunate creatures. They were all here through no fault of their own. I stood to leave. I passed by many other dogs I did not interview, looking at each one, wishing I could take them all home with me and give them the love they deserved. I stood by the door taking one last glance back, when it opened, and one of the pound workers came in. His face was drawn and sad. He walked by without a word, and stopped at Pete’s kennel. I heard him take a deep breath, then he paused, and opened the kennel door.
The words were muffled, but I am sure I heard him say “I’m sorry old boy.”
He came out, with Petey in tow. The old dog’s head hung down in resignation, and they both disappeared behind the big steel door.
Dog Fighting
It is sad that I recently found out dog fighting is going on in the next county over from me.
It's outrageous to think young men get a high on this.
The locals testify that police do nothing which is even more an outrage.
So I am going to do something and if you have any ideas, let me know. In today's age, the Internet allows us to put a magnify glass on parts of the world that would rather remain in hiding.
I have a few specific ideas and am going to follow through. Let me know what you think as well.
UPDATE 1
I wrote a pretty strong letter yesterday to the city council and Police Chief. These folks need to get it together. It's 2009! Bottom line is good people need to voice up or the bad beat up.
.
It's outrageous to think young men get a high on this.
The locals testify that police do nothing which is even more an outrage.
So I am going to do something and if you have any ideas, let me know. In today's age, the Internet allows us to put a magnify glass on parts of the world that would rather remain in hiding.
I have a few specific ideas and am going to follow through. Let me know what you think as well.
UPDATE 1
I wrote a pretty strong letter yesterday to the city council and Police Chief. These folks need to get it together. It's 2009! Bottom line is good people need to voice up or the bad beat up.
.
Dog Whisperer & Puppy Mills
Cesar Millan is taking his celebrity and doing more good here as he discusses puppy mills.
If you are a fan of The Dog Whisperer, you know who Daddy is...here's his Facebook page.
Recently, I had the opportunity to participate in a rescue from a puppy mill with the dedicated staff of Last Chance for Animals, which you will see on an episode of Dog Whisperer. In my career, I have dealt with many, many troubled dogs that come from puppy mills, but this was the first time I had witnessed the conditions firsthand. These courageous men and women had a lot of experience with the physical rescue of these animals, but I was there to help them start the psychological rescue from the moment they took the dogs out of the cramped quarters.When I moved to TN, I had no idea the largest puppy mill raid in the US was about 15 miles away! I drive 2000 miles away from Hollywood, celebrities, the "famous"...and here I am, a drive away from another celebrity...of the horrible kind...the witch from Lyles, TN
If you are a fan of The Dog Whisperer, you know who Daddy is...here's his Facebook page.
(click on image)
Doggles
Normally I don't go in for these "Paris Hilton" type dog garments, but in this case, Doggles are very practical and just look cool!
I drive with Albert a lot, like I did George, and he always sticks his head out the window at speeds up to 70mph. Why not protect his eyes from debris and the wind.
Best price here--free shipping and no handling fee
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ST GEORGE
I got off work this morning at 7am and on the drive home noticed a gorgeous Episcopal Church. I have seen it many times and decided to stop. Service is at 8am so I pulled into the park lot. I walk in and find a pew. Big church, high ceilings...stunning.
As I look at the bulletin I notice the name of the church
ST GEORGE'S Episcopal Church!
God is cool
.
God is cool
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Albert Stitches Out
Al got his stitches out Friday. He is doing well.
There will be a bulge in the side of his neck from muscle damage, but he is fine.
Thanks for all the kind emails. Those who donated some, thank you as well. I still have about $350 to pay off the bill, so any help is welcome at this point in life.
.
There will be a bulge in the side of his neck from muscle damage, but he is fine.
Thanks for all the kind emails. Those who donated some, thank you as well. I still have about $350 to pay off the bill, so any help is welcome at this point in life.
.
Remember Crazy Ivan?
click on image for full view
Remember Crazy Ivan? I fostered him last year in August.
At a adopt-a-pet in West Hollywood, someone was interested.
Turns out to be one of the better adoptions.
At a adopt-a-pet in West Hollywood, someone was interested.
Turns out to be one of the better adoptions.
He's now called Boots...
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