the slack daily

In the Spirit of New Beginnings...

Saving Michael Vick's Dogs

When football superstar Michael Vick pleaded guilty last year to conspiring to run a dogfighting operation, we knew he had kept about 50 pit bulls on his 15-acre property in rural Surry County, Va., on a road named Moonlight. We knew the dogs were chained to car axles near wooden hovels for shelter. And we knew the dogs that didn't fight were beaten, shot, hanged, electrocuted or drowned.

Instead, the court gave Vick's dogs a second chance. U.S. District Judge Henry E. Hudson ordered each dog to be evaluated individually, not judged by the stereotype of the breed. And he ordered Vick to pony up close to $1 million to pay for the lifelong care of those that could be saved.

Of the 49 pit bulls animal behavior experts evaluated in the fall, only one was deemed too vicious to warrant saving and was euthanized. (Another was euthanized because it was sick and in pain.)

More than a year after being confiscated from Vick's property, Leo, a tan, muscular pit bull, dons a colorful clown collar and visits cancer patients as a certified therapy dog in California. Hector, who bears deep scars on his chest and legs, recently was adopted and is about to start training for national flying disc competitions in Minnesota. Teddles takes orders from a 2-year-old. Gracie is a couch potato in Richmond who lives with cats and sleeps with four other dogs.

The entire story (written by Brigid Schulte) at the Washington Post.  Don't miss the photo gallery. (And get a tissue.)

Emily.

She's not the first dog you look at.  She's not little and she's not fluffy.  Her face is grey and her ears are lopsided and her legs are a bit skewed and her belly bears the marks of multiple litters of puppies.

Emily, at the Bill Foundation Adoption Fair.

But she's the first dog you should look at.  Because she was dumped in Echo Park, left to wander the streets, starving and scared, but she will happily lean up against you.  She loves to have her square head held in your hands as you scratch the space between her eyes, that space that holds her brain that's seen so much and experienced the worst the human race has had to offer, being used up and thrown out like a piece of trash but still loves us anyway.

You should look at her because she loves dogs and cats and kids, because she's housetrained.  She responds not to treats but to attention and belly rubs.  She's looking for a spot to curl up and sleep. maybe under your desk on a blanket, or on the couch or maybe, just maybe, at the foot of your bed. 

That's more like it.

She's a dog who prefers love to four mile hikes, a dog who will repay you for your kindness tenfold, for a belly full of food and a pat on the head and a soft spot to sleep.  She doesn't care how much you make or what you look like, only that you've got a kind word and a belly rub. 

She's a dog that you walk past looking at all the other dogs, and I can only shake my head at and wonder why people don't get it.  Because she is everything a dog should be and more.  Every Adoption Fair someone asks don't you want to take them all home? And I say I know that each and every dog will find the right home, but for the first time I am crushed that it can't be me because my dog doesn't get along with other dogs and I don't live in a place where I can crate and rotate. 

Every so often there's one that gets under your skin.  One that you know is special, one that is the best that the canine world has to offer. I know I'm not the only one who sees that. 

But I hope the right person with the right home will see that, too. Soon

Emily is available for adoption through the Bill Foundation a non-profit organization which is kept going by your donations (you can donate here!)

If you've got any questions, well, you know where to find me.

If you've been with me since the beginning, I am telling you, this dog is a Thurber, 

Sometimes I Hate People.

Today, at the Bill Foundation Adoption Fair:

A couple walks in with a 4-to-5 year old girl.  The little girl kept shoving her fingers in cage after cage, even though we asked her and her parents to stop poking at the doggies.  Finally, her dad approached the table and asked me about a dog [an adorable, poodley looking guy] that was listed as "not good with kids"

Can I still look at the dog? he asked.

Is that your daughter?  I asked back.

Yes.

Then no, you can't.  I'm sorry, but it says it's not good with kids.  We have many great family dogs here, I'd be happy to show you them.

But that one looks like it would be the best around kids.

And I'm telling you it's not.

Another volunteer joins us.  No, that dog can't be around children. According to the shelter it was in a home with children that terrorized it, so we want to find him a quiet, adults-only home.

Well, I want to look at that dog, he insists.

I'm sorry, I continue, I will be happy to have any of the volunteers show you another dog--

Clearly you don't care about these dogs, because you'd want them to go into good homes like mine, he says.  He snorts and grabs his daughters hand and they stride off.  Maybe he'll get her a pet lion instead.

There was also a couple who left their dog unattended in a shopping car for ten minutes and the family who boasted that of course they would keep the dog inside - that's what their garage was for!  But it doesn't have A/C, so they need a sturdy dog - could we hook them up?

/headdesk

Dog Day Afternoon!

I spent my afternoon with a handsome boy.

We even made out!

Hootie, along with many other fabulous dogs, is available for adoption through the Bill Foundation. 

News After the Fact.

As my husband has mentioned, Daisy is indeed okay.

There was what could only be described as a "hitch in her giddyup."  Her back legs were working a wee bit slow, but it's been rainy and cold and she's not a spring chicken (if she was, that would be troublesome as she'd try to eat herself) and she didn't seem to be in any pain and we chalked it up to the inevitability  of aging. 

Last night she was walking gingerly up the steps, so after I fed her I picked her up and put her on the couch next to me, where she immediately set in on completing her last leg of the sleeping-twenty-hours-a-day marathon.  (Naps don't take themselves, you know.)  Will and I decided that I'd take her to the vet first thing in the morning but she'd be fine through the night.  She snoozed while I worked for a bit, and at about 1:30am I picked her up so she wouldn't have to jump off the couch and she yelped.

Anyone who knows Daisy knows that this isn't a dog who makes a sound unless she's trying to specifically tell you something.  She doesn't bark unless someone's at the door (or creeping outside our window.)  She doesn't whine unless there are CATS! yes CATS! somewhere in the vicinity.  Yelping meant something was wrong, that I had hurt her.  And pain meant that the vet couldn't wait.

Will had to work today, and although I was sick, I didn't have to be anywhere so we decided that I would take her.  We carried her to the car while she trembled and I promised to update him as soon as I knew anything.  We drove across town the the E-Vet with the best rating on Yelp, as while it was an emergency, I didn't believe it to be life-threatening so the fact that it took us fifteen minutes as opposed to five wasn't an issue.  I carried her out of the car and up the stairs, and we waited while the vet finished up with a critical case.

Of course, the moment we were inside with the doctor, Daisy decided that this was just a field trip. She rolled over and showed her belly, she batted her big brown eyes.  She was palpated and prodded and poked and nothing seemed to be wrong.  The vet watched as Daisy walked and the thought is that maybe she had a groin pull.  Blood work was done, pain meds were dispensed (not to be taken until after the blood work is clear) and $361 late, Daisy the Wonderdog is on the injured-reserve list. 

Happy Holidaisy!

Happy Daisy Makeoutz Day.

Pictures from my last three Halloweens:

2004. Daisy as bat and me dressed, well, normally.  For my Halloween Cocktail Party.  (And no, that's not a wig.)

2005.  For the Zombie Dinner Party.  Me dressed as Zombie Starlet, Daisy dressed as Zombie Petey from the Little Rascals. (And that is a wig.)

2006.  For my Halloween Hangout. Daisy dressed as the Devil, me dressed as, well, me.

2007 marks the first year that I haven't had a party, although I certainly have plenty to celebrate. Maybe I'll don that Princess Leia outfit and Mr. Boy and I will----oh, dammit.  Maybe I won't. 

Another year of Daisy Makeoutz for me!

Bacon and Jobs and Bacon.

(Tetley the Wee Piggy, via celticfeministw!)

I would love to get one of these Pennywell Miniature Pigs, but I can just imagine Daisy:  Hmmmmm, this dog smells like bacon!

Please give me bacon.  If you give me bacon I will not ask for bacon ever again, unless I forget that I asked for bacon in the first place which will most likely happen because I am a dog but you could still just give me bacon and see.

...

My job search takes me all over Internetland, from linkedin to mediabistro to entertainmentcareers to  realitystaff to good ol' fashioned Craigslist.  I came across this gem yesterday, and had to submit.   Will said I should write as one of the It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia gang, and because I love a challenge, I picked the practically illiterate Charlie.

If you've never seen Always Sunny, you truly are missing out on the funniest show on television.  Not to mention the blog post I wrote as my submission below will make absolutely no sense.   So enjoy.  Or be confused.  It's your call.

CHARLIE KELLY'S BLOG

mac tole me that theres free porn on the internet but i don’t understand how that can even work cuz if there was free porn what r the guys doing at work?  dennis said i couldnt figure it out but i think dennis is trieing to keep all of the naked laidies for himself because dennis is kind of a prick that way but macs my buddy and wants me to have free naked laidies so i asked mac where to find the internet and he said the library but thats where homeless people and weirdos hangout and i was walking by the cofeeshop to check on the waitress and i saw it said FREE WIFI which i think is code for “internet for women” which is short for “internet for naked laidies” except that i think they just use that to get you in here cuz i been on this computer for like 3 minutes and i havent seen any naked laidies.  i have been trying but i think this computer is broken or maybe i broke the internet which would just be my luck but GI JOE said trying is half the battle and i dont know what the other half is but hope it involves naked laidies. 

NAKED LAIDIES

I WULD LIKE 2 SEE BOOBS

CHARLIE KELLY SEZ PLEAZE FREE PORN

see? the last time i even askd nice but do you see any naked laidies on this page?  none.  i think the internet is a big joke paratroopered by gorge bush and that fat green guy al gorie but hes not green hes more of a pinkish tan but hes got nice hair.  you know who else has nice hair?  the waitress.  she asked me when i got a laptop and i tole her that ive always had the same lap and she called me idiot but mom also calls me a idiot and moms have unconstistustonal love for their children i think oprah said that so that must mean the waitress loves me.  YES!  with all the money i am going to save on porn FREE INTERNET PORN see it still didnt work ill have to ask mac with all of the money i save on porn i can use to take her out to dinner and buy her a ring and not one of those crappy rings that dee gets from the gumball machine and tells us that the guy shes banging gave her so she can call him boyfriend but a real ring that wont give her a rash.  now theres a guy here and he sez this is his computer but i said its macs computer it SEZ MAC RIGHT THERE ON THE SCREEN although it sez macbook and not mac but im tellin you this guys name aint macbook but im telling him i don’t want his stupid computer cuz its broken and has no free naked laidies. mac is such a liar.

On Dignity...and a Story.

Cruising down La Cienega Blvd. past the paparazzi hotspot with your head hung out the window of your pink Mini Cooper like a dog gulping the night air in an effort not to vomit = not dignified.

But!

Vomiting all over yourself in the car = not dignified.

So two wrongs DO make a right.  Viva la stomach flu!*

Yesterday's post and the comments on it just reminded me of a story.  Back in 2001, I lived in a Huge Apartment Complex.  If you live in LA, you know of what I speak: all the apartments look exactly the same: two bedrooms with their own bathrooms separated by a living room and a galley kitchen.  I lived there with Peanut, the three legged pit bull, and every morning before I'd head over to Ren-Mar I'd leash her up and take her for a walk.

My building was no ordinary building, however, it was known as the "Stripper Building" as it was right around the corner from a bunch of Sunset Strip Clubs and a good portion of the strippers - or former strippers - chose to live there.  (We also had a couple of Working Girls, but they informed me in no uncertain terms did they strip.)

My morning outing with Peanut (in which I was clad in pajama bottoms and a tank top or oversized t-shirt)  would coincide from the girls getting home form work.  They'd always oooh and ahhh over my cute three-legged dog and then give me a look like I was something to be found under a hobo's shoe.  It was a familiar routine that I looked forward to every morning.

Until one evening I had gotten home late from work and was taking Peanut out in my work clothes - fully made up, skirts-and-boots-and-little-t-shirt and I ran across the same girls leaving for their evening shift.  They ooohed and aaahed over Peanut and then said to me

She's so cute!  We see her with your dogwalker every day!

I didn't have the heart to tell them.

*On second thought, no viva the stomach flu.

You Wanna See Something Really Scary?

Scary:

It was 2:13am, I remember because I grabbed my cell phone imagining that the alarm had woken me up.  A few seconds later I realized it wasn't the alarm but the sound of a dog barking.  Our dog barking. 

Our dog who never, ever barks in the house was in the living room.  Barking.

I shook Will awake and we stumbled into the living room.  Daisy was at the front door, barking and growling and sounding like a menace.  Will started to unlock the door, but I pointed at the peephole.  He looked through.  Nothing.

Maybe it was a cat, he said.

This house is surrounded by cats, she hasn't barked at them before.

Maybe a cat with a gun?

Whatever it was, our watchdog scared it away.

Scarier:

It was 7:32am, and Will had left for work about fifteen minutes earlier.  I had finished up my morning conference call and was getting some work done when my cell phone rang.  The caller ID read "Will - Mobile."

What's up?

I just got hit, he said.

Panic washed over me.  Are you okay?

I'm fine, but can you come get me?  I'm in the Whole Foods parking lot.

I stashed Daisy in her crate and grabbed my car keys.  Five minutes later, I was on the scene.  His front right fender was smashed in, making the car inoperable, but otherwise okay.  I hugged him and asked if he was hurt.  Again, he told me no.

The other driver shook my hand and apologized and as they exchanged information and went over what was to happen next, I checked out the bright blue Mustang he was standing in front of.  It hadn't sustained any damage.  Odd, I thought.  Until I overheard a snippet of conversation:

...they're coming down hard on truck drivers lately.

It was that moment I spotted the enormous semi parked in the middle of the street.

You got hit by a SEMI?!

I forgot to mention that part?

A wave of nausea hit me.  You got hit by a semi in your little car and you're totally, completely okay.

I am.

I hugged him again, and after his car was towed we got him checked out.  He is totally and completely fine.  But I told him his next car is going to have twelve airbags and a reinforced steel cage and jetpacks and pillows and a laser-beam with flesh-eating tigers on it.  I hope he's okay with that.

Scariest:

Anne Frank-Dragonball Z Fan Fiction.

Anne sighed as she sat in her room, staring at her wall. She just finished writing in her diary, and had nothing to do. Life was boring in the Secret Annex, but it was better than the alternative. It was alright talking to Peter and Margot, but they were both such quiet people, unlike the always active Anne. All of a sudden, a flash of light appeared in the room! Anne jumped back, stifling a scream. Before she could run out the closed door she noticed that the person who appeared in the flash was not a Nazi officer, but someone who she had never seen before! His clothes were very strange, and his hair was in a spiky style that was totally new to her. She stood against the wall, wary of the stranger, but he walked towards her and smiled, extending a hand. "My name is Goku."