I don’t always turn 11…

…but when I do, I get a big bone.

This picture was taken after 40 minutes of Dex trudging around the yard, trying to find the best spot to hide his birthday bone (NOT a euphemism). Even with all of the other dogs inside, poor Dex couldn’t just settle down and enjoy his bone until he’d found and discarded no less than 4 perfectly good hiding spots for his prize.

Just stopping by to say hello, dust some cobwebs off, and wish my best old man Dexter a happy 11th birthday. It’s not every day your dog turns 11, so we had a Birthday Blowout Week which included Dex’s first minor league baseball game, where he barked at the hot dog vendor.

And the t-shirt gun.

And the crack of the bat.

And pretty much everything else.

But you know? Fuck it. Bark your head off, old man. You’ve earned it.

Listen. Stop following me. Seriously. I gotta hide this thing.

 

 

 

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Guess who had a birthday?

Hey guys – I’m back! There have been some exciting goings-on around the Bad Mutha Fudruckin’ household, not the least of which being that somebody celebrated a big birthday. On September 1, Dexter turned a 10 years old. Quite a milestone! And to celebrate, CSN Stores (you know, the folks with over 200 stores where you can find anything from a coffee table to a Halloween costume for your dog) has offered to let him do his first product review!

So stay tuned! He’s getting something he’s been yearning for his entire life, and I can’t wait to share with you guys his reaction.

Happy Birthday, Dex! I love you!

Some stuff I want to tell you about

Wow – how has it been a week already?  Time is flying friends, and not in a good way.  Some updates:

Had a blast this weekend – more camping, more hanging out with family, more watermelon eating.  Ran into Steve at the Downtown Sundown Guns ‘n’ Roses cover band concert.  It was…awkward? It was nice to see him, but I was sweaty and already irritated by other things, and not feeling pretty. I felt surprised/sad/nervous/glad I wasn’t drinking.  I’m guessing this is normal?

More on camping – Dex is an escape artist and kept creeping out of the tent.  And by creeping, I mean that sonovabitch kept UNZIPPING the tent and chilling by the campfire.  What an asshole.

Ernie continues to be fascinated by the kittens.Ernie and the kittensThe kittens continue to be fascinated by eating and pooping.  Oh, and biting (they are teething).  They are much bigger now:

GirlieBoy kittenThe little calico girl is perfecting the Hemo stink-eye.

Dammit Hemo, you are a bad influence!

They are not photographing as well now as they used to – I think it’s because they are actually moving around, getting into shit (literally) and needing lots of baths/wipe downs. Their little faces always look a little gaunt because I am constantly wiping food/milk/eye gunk out of them, and smearing eye medicine in them.

Work is crazy – we are working 4 10 hours days, which on the one hand is awesome because hey – 3 day weekend every weekend!  But it is not awesome, because hey – 10 hour work day Monday – Thursday.

I’ll see you around!

[Edited to add] – VIDEO! Of the KITTENS!

I had a banana for breakfast, and other exciting news

You guys rock my socks off!

Seriously, I had a new post card pop into my inbox every couple of minutes yesterday. Thank you so, so much for getting on board with Operation:Denver.

And for some more good news – Dexter comes home today!  The Barbary hasn’t been the same without you, kiddo.

Dex behind the bar at the Barbary Coast

And…that’s all I’ve got.

Have a great weekend – see you on Monday.

BSL is BS

Baby Ernie, the first day I brought him home.

Baby Ernie, aged 5 weeks.

Ernie’s pictured in this post about BSL.

BSL (Breed Specific Legislation) is something I had never heard of before I owned pit bulls. And if I’m being honest, I don’t really remember if I had an opinion either way on pit bulls before Ernie. Sure, my friend had a pit mix (Dexter, who later came to live with me), but I don’t remember having a thought one way or the other about his breed. He was just a big, sweet dog with too-little ears who knew to stay on the porch. Oh, and he let us dress him up. But his canine older brother, Tucker (who was a retriever mix with regular-sized ears), had the same qualities and did the same things.

Baby Ernie (and a chubby Hemo)

Baby Ernie (and a very chubby Hemo)

I fell in love with Ernie when he was two days old; he looked like a little guinea pig. While I was waiting for him to be old enough to bring home, I bought a Pit Bulls for Dummies book and set about memorizing it before he came home.

Cement block-shaped head? Pump handle tail? Check and check. At the end of the book was a chapter on BSL and where it had been successfully challenged, and organizations to contact if you had any questions.

I filed it away, hoping to never have to give it a second thought.

A few months later, Ernie and I were in PetsMart getting an ID tag made at one of those “etched while you watch/wait” kiosks.  Ernie, a few months old at this point, was exhausted from the sheer amount of people, treats, and toys in the store, and was laying at my feet as we waited for his tag to be finished. A woman approached me, keeping a careful eye on Ernie, and asked me what type of dog he was.

Baby Ernie sits.

Do I look ferocious?

“He’s a pit bull,” I smiled at her.

She took a couple of big steps back.

“Oh – those dogs shouldn’t be allowed around people.”

My face flushed bright red with a mixture of anger, shame, frustration, and shock.  How do you even react to that, when the dog, nay, PUPPY, in question is laying at your feet? Does “I’m sorry you feel that way” even begin to cut it?

Then I moved to the small town of Romeo, MI.  A few months after moving there, my step-dad pointed out to me an article in the local paper which reported that the village was thinking about enacting BSL which would ban pit bulls and pit bull-type dogs within it’s borders. I went into full-on panic mode and turned to the “Resources” page of my Pit Bulls for Dummies book. I called about 5 numbers, left messages, and waited anxiously for a reply.  I got a call back from a group that had successfully defeated a pit bull ban in nearby Detroit, and they agreed to send a representative to the next council meeting.

I am not a public speaker, but I went to that meeting clutching pictures of Ernie and a few prepared words in my sweaty hands. Ernie, then 9 months old, was at home and although he obviously had no idea what was going on, I didn’t want to let him down. One of the village trustees described pit bulls as being  “merciless when they attack” and I almost lost it. Another Romeo resident held up pictures of a child mauled by a pit bull and advocated for their banishment. When it came time for me to take the floor, I was so nervous I had a hard time meeting the gaze of any of the attendees. Luckily I managed to stammer out a coherent sentence or two (thankfully quoted in an article in the Romeo Observer* or I never would have believed it actually happened) before sitting down.

Ernie and his cousin, Sadie

Ernie and his cousin, Sadie Lu, after a long day.

The motion was successfully defeated in favor of enacting a more general (and effective) dangerous dog ordinance. But the seed was planted, and I’ll never forget how close I’ve come to losing my boys, and the hatred and fear people can bear for a dog they’ve never even met.

Through this blog, I’ve met (well, read the blogs of) many other pit bull owners and advocates (like Kate at save the pit bull, save the world, Miss M and Mr. B and their awesome owners at Two Pitties in the City, and rescue/educational groups like Bad Rap, The Unexpected Pit Bull, and Richmond’s Ring Dog Rescue) who have strengthened my belief that these dogs have a place in our world and our homes. All of us can’t be wrong, right?

So now that I’ve shared my sob story, I have to ask for a favor.  I’ll be attending BlogPaws West this fall with RichmondPetLovers.com. The catch is that the conference will be held in Denver, CO, a city where Ernie, Dexter, and all pit bulls are not only banned, but would be in danger of being seized and euthanized based only on the fact that they are pit bulls. Maggie at Oh My Dog! has created and is organizing the Operation:Denver campaign to educate Denver’s Mayor Hickenlooper about the facts, rather than the myths, about pits and the people who love them.

Ernie's glamour shot

Ernie's glamour shot.

Maggie is coordinating a postcard campaign to send 10,560 post cards, or a mile’s worth, to the mayor of the Mile High City.  All you have to do is create an electronic postcard (you can download a template for PCs or Macs) and email it to Maggie at operationdenver@gmail.com. That’s it! Just a minute of your time.

Because I feel so strongly about this, I’m putting my money where my mouth is and I’m going to donate $1 to Operation:Denver for every postcard you guys create. That’s right – if it means no more delicious beers for me, than so be it.

So force me into a ramen diet, guys! Create a postcard and let me know you’ve sent it to Maggie by telling me about it in the comments (or copy me [badmuthafudrucker@gmail.com] in the email you send to Maggie at operationdenver@gmail.com). If you need a pit bull image, feel free to use any I’ve posted here or anywhere in the blog.

Thanks, friends. BSL is getting my blood boiling.

—————————————
*The last sentence in this article makes my stomach twist in knots. Is this guy a dog expert? Fuck no, he’s a freakin’ VILLAGE COUNCILMEN. Get a clue, ass.

She’s baaack!

Guess who I saw this morning in the bathroom – Curly Sue!

Curly Sue, aka my long eyebrow hair

This picture does not really do her justice, since I had to take it by myself in my abominably-lit bathroom.  You’ll have to trust me when I tell you that she is a thing of beauty.  Me, trying to get a picture of an eyebrow hair in the bathroom mirror without accidentally pulling it out – not so much.

Other things I’d like to talk about today:
Harvest – The harvest has begun! This weekend I picked my first cucumber, along with a handful of green beans and a small-ish yellow squash. I may have jumped the gun a little on the squash, but I’m nothing if not impatient.

If you happened to be peeking out of my neighbor’s upstairs window last Saturday around 9am, you would have seen one ecstatic pajama-clad girl skipping around the garden clutching beans in both hands and pausing periodically to shake aforementioned beans in her dog’s face, singing (in the style of the Go-Gos), “We  got the beans, we got the Beans, we got the BEANS, YEAH! We got the BEANS!”

Um, yeah.  We got some mutha fudrucking beans.

The cucumber became part of a delicious mango salad, but the squash and beans are still on the counter, taunting me. Joke’s on you, veggies, ’cause you’ll both be a stir fry tonight!

– You may have a distinct noticed lack of Dexter up in this piece as of late. He is in South Carolina, getting some one-on-one time with his former mommy, Danielle. It’s pretty obvious from the pictures she’s been sending me pining away for us, right?  Right?

[Cue weeping]

Apparently he’s having such a good time he’s already on his third chew toy. No squeaker in SC is safe.

Dex on vacation

He’ll be back in a couple of weeks.

And yes, that is a hand-crocheted afghan he is wrapped up in.  Hand-crocheted by moi, no less.  I’ll be happy to start taking orders if, by some chance, you don’t have the time or the inclination to waste spend 12+ hours of your life looping yarn around a hook while watching the first four seasons of Lost.

Call me!

I just called to say ‘I love you’

So I know I’ve already warned you guys that I’m phoning it in for the rest of the week.  This is me, literally phoning it in.

These pictures were snapped with my phone a few weeks ago at the Goat and Compass in Wilmington.  The Goat is Ernie and Dexter friendly, and when Amanda and I were there on a Friday afternoon (I was able to leave work early because our air conditioning was broken) they even had free buffalo wings.  Score!  Sadly, the wings were not Ernie and Dexter friendly (because dog farts are not people friendly).

The boys, hanging out.

Dexter sneaks closer to the wings.

Even my beer laughs at his pitiful attempt to sweet talk some strangers out of people food.

They also have a pretty sweet beer garden out back.  When the boys got tired of being inside Amanda and I took our beers out there to get some fresh air.  Dex didn’t seem to like the gravel out there too much, and it was pretty funny to watch him daintily pick his way across the flagstones.  Ernie, however, didn’t seem to mind and after scouting the perimeter, laid down in the crunchy gravel and took a nap.

To each his own, I guess.

Are you making fun of me?

Sorry, Dex.

Anyway, the next time you are in Wilmington – check out the Goat and Compass!  They even have a chalkboard up in a corner (which used to be where you could play Wii until someone broke it *sigh*) where you can buy a beer for an absent friend and leave them a note.  I’ve left one for you!

(No plans to come to NC?  Not into beer?  Then check out this post for a chance to win something even cooler.)