Note: This post isn’t as happy-go-lucky as usual. BUT, if you make it all the way to the end, you may win a prize!
I learned something about myself this weekend, friends. I’ve never considered myself a judgmental person, but I revealed myself to be Sally McJudge-a-lot on Saturday.
I spent the morning working in the yard and getting all of my vegetables planted in the garden. By 1 o’clock it was too hot for anymore yard work and I was ready for a treat. Ernie was ready for a walk (Dexter had already put in several long hours of intense hole digging [followed by equally intense lounging in aforementioned holes], so he was deep into an afternoon nap).
Whatever – digging holes is hard work .
I leashed up Ernie and set out for a new bar that a co-worker had told me about, the Satellite Bar & Lounge. Merits of this bar included a) interesting architecture, b) the owners had used lots of found items to decorate and furnish the bar, c) excellent beer selection, and d) it was dog friendly. So off we went.
I had a vague idea of where this place was, but never having walked the route I didn’t realize that sidewalks were few and far between once I got about 5 blocks from my house. I almost turned back a few times, but soldiered on. Ernie and I finally made it to the Satellite Lounge, which, true to my coworker’s word, was a pretty interesting space. Big garage doors made up one wall, and they were both open to take advantage of the beautiful weather. I took the bartender’s suggestion and ordered a Bell’s Porter, and she directed Ernie to the bowl of water set out for dogs at the end of the bar.
**As a side note, I have to say this bartender knew her stuff. When she asked me what I’d like to drink, I asked her if there was a delicious beer I needed to try. She asked if I liked porters, then plunked a Bell’s in front of me – a $4 bottle of beer. Way to upsell!
Business was pretty slow, and I struck up a conversation with a few other bar patrons – fellow pit bull lovers. Ernie made the rounds and it was only as I finished my beer and got ready to leave that I realized I had introduced Ernie to everyone, but not myself. Oh well.
Manners – I have none.
With the goal of getting closer to home, we left and headed to the Barbary Coast. I was hoping to get a mint julep and maybe even watch the Kentucky Derby, but alas, this was not to be. I’m not really sure why I expected a dive bar to stock fresh mint and simple syrup, but a girl can dream, can’t she? Instead I got a PBR and watched Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls. Still a good day. A couple came in with their 6 month old puppy, Moses; I recognized some of the specific command words she was giving him from the Puppy Pre-School Ernie and I had attended, and after a brief conversation discovered that they were currently enrolled in the same class.
A steady trickle of patrons entered the bar, with a few more dogs; one a cute little dachshund mix, and another couple with their two beagles. After brief introductions and butt sniffs, the dachsund playfully chased Ernie around the bar before they both settled down. Then, two young guys entered the bar, both with their dogs. One, an intact male bull dog. The other, an intact male pit bull. I groaned inwardly. I know that Ernie doesn’t do well with intact male dogs – invariably they try to mount him, so I don’t really blame him. But I quickly put him into a down stay as they passed. The pit bull got leashed to a bar stool, but the bull dog was left to wander around. He kept approaching Ernie (still in a down stay) and trying to stand over him. I kept shooing him away. Finally, I stood over Ernie and blocked the bull dog from approaching Ernie anymore.
Anger was slowly burning in my chest – why were these two dogs still intact? I know there could be any number of reasons why the dogs were, (see this entry from save the pitbull, save the world) but the attitude of the young owners made me think that it was all male ego. The bull dog, with his runny eyes and turned-out front paws, didn’t seem like a prime breeding specimen to my (admittedly) untrained eyes. And the intact pitbull was a “rare, blue” pit; I shuddered to think of all the puppies he has or could father, born outside to a skinny, over-bred bitch and sold for $300 a pop.
Moses’ owners were giving me sympathetic looks, and after the third time the bull dog ignored his owner and approached Ernie (his owner came over each time and lifted the dog up by his harness to physically removed him), the woman told me I should ask the bull dog’s owners to leash his dog, or ask the bartender to get him to leash him.
I knew I wouldn’t do that – lots of times Ernie and Dex are at the Barbary and not on leashes, and I didn’t want to make a scene. I know that the bar isn’t a dog park, and I am aware that if the dogs become too much of an issue, it would be easy for the owner to say that they just aren’t welcome anymore. The dogs in question didn’t seem to be bothering anyone or anyone else’s dog, so I just leashed up Ernie and left.
I hate that I hate seeing intact male dogs – I immediately judge the owner as irresponsible and uninformed. I assume they want to breed their dogs for a quick buck – especially if the dog in question is a pit bull. With so much backyard breeding going on, and so many advertisements for pit bull puppies stapled to telephone poles, it seems like a selfish act. But I am also aware that if every male pit bull was neutered, there would be no more Ernies or Dexters. And so I am torn.
I still judge, though.
On a lighter note – it’s contest time!
NobleWorksCards.com has contacted me about offering a give away to my readers. Dingo ran a similar contest a while back, and the rules will be similar here. Head on over to NobleWorks and check out their selection of cards and other stationary. Let me know which product best encapsulates the Mutha Fudruckin’ way of life, or just which one you like best. Leave your response as a comment (or you can email me @ badmuthafudrucker [at] gmail [dot] com). The winner will get a $25 shopping spree at NobleWorks. The winner will be chosen at random from all of the comments left (on any post) between now and midnight (eastern time) Thursday. I’ll announce winners on Friday. Every comment counts as one entry, and if you let me know that you’ve spread the word on your blog and/or Twitter, I’ll count each shout out as an entry. So get on it!
This one cracked me up:
I kid, I kid, Hemo. I don’t want you to run away (again).