On Dogs From Hell

I love dogs, really, I do. I have three. I even like pit bulls a lot, my experience with them has always been positive. We own a pit/lab cross who is a completely wonderful dog, particularly the pit part.
Except… Down the street there’s a mostly feral pit who has eaten the neighborhood chickens, killed cats and a puppy, and sent another little dog to the vet. It’s always exciting to walk the dogs by him. I have to get big and tough so he’ll back off. My dogs want to rumble with him. I don’t really like blood that much, so we make him back off. He’s been reported numerous times to Animal Control.
He looks like he’s starving to death, poor thing. Paula, Your Neighborhood Librarian, has had experience with this very thing. She said I must Go To City Hall and push the agenda and get Animal Control to do their job. I suspect she’s right when she says it’s only a matter of time until the dog bites a human.

Here’s the update on the Feral Pit From Hell.

I’ve talked to City Hall, the Assistant Director of the Community Services Department who oversees Planning, Building, Environmental Health, and Animal Control for the county, to be precise. I accidentally got his cell number, which will soon be on a neighborhood flier depending on how fast things move. He said, “No, please don’t give that out!” and I said, “But what if we see the dog before 8 or after 5?” He said to please call the police or sheriff and they can find out who’s on call for Animal Control and they’ll take it from there. Hah. The gears grind exceedingly slowly, we’ll see…

They are definitely aware of the dog and the problems. I made a bit of a stink, I guess, and the shit has started to flow. Animal Control has tried to catch him before. They had him cornered in somebody’s yard and he leaped over the 6 foot fence and got away. Right before their eyes. Take that, beyotches!

I talked to the Queen of the Dogcatcher Department, too (in person), and her heinous wanna-be cop hardass sidekick with amazingly dense, curly girlie eyelashes. He hates them. And me for looking at them. And everyone else, as far as I can tell. Anyway … They aren’t too happy with me for bringing down the pain from above. And they won’t let me dart him. The dog, I mean. They’d probably let me dart the sidekick.

They were driving up and down the neighborhood when they stopped to talk to me. They were gathering information or possibly eating donuts, trying to establish the dog’s roaming patterns and habits.

The plan now is to dart the dog, which is quite a procedure and takes a lot of people. Community Services has signed off on it. Animal control has to have police/sheriff support during the procedure, and a vet has to be with them (by law) because the darted dog must be surrounded after he’s darted so he can’t escape and hide until he’s normal again. Sounds like a giant Community Clusterfuck and not much fun. See why I wanted the cell number? Also, once they actually catch him he has to be transported immediately (by law) to the vet. Maybe that will put an end to it. Paula, Your Neighborhood Librarian, ended up going to court to testify to get the dog put down.

Maybe they’ll just call Cesar.

Unconscious Mutterings

Unconscious Mutterings

Unconscious Mutterings


I say … and you think::

  1. Track ::
  2. Snake ::
  3. Assignment ::
  4. Blockbuster ::
  5. Bombastic ::
  6. Adventure ::
  7. First time ::
  8. Aged ::
  9. Grip ::
  10. Shortcut::



Try it yourself before you read mine:

  1. Track ::back
  2. Snake ::mean
  3. Assignment ::school
  4. Blockbuster ::video
  5. Bombastic ::mr. fantastic
  6. Adventure ::comics
  7. First time ::virgin
  8. Aged ::venerable
  9. Grip ::losing it
  10. Shortcut::lazy


I love how people try and come up with new and bizarrely spelled subjects to sneak through the spam filters.

I just got a spam (in my spam filter, thank you Google/Postini) that had a subject line of….

“In Rod We Thrust.”

Hah hah!

Well, it made ME laugh.

Happy Saturday and Sears Kenmore LG Review

Hi there, Happy Saturday. It’s a really nice day here. To celebrate, I’m going to go blast the grease off the barbeque. Wish me luck.

Had the Sears refrigerator repair guy here today. We thought we bought a nice fridge a year ago. Wrong. It was an uber-expensive piece of shit. Kenmore Elite branded LG. Model number 795-77572600. French doors, freezer on the bottom, water and ice in the left door. Sounds really nice, eh? Not so much. I mean, it would be except …. Uneven cooling. The bottom shelf cracked – not the glass, the plastic that holds it in. The deli drawer has crappy stress cracks all over it. The icemaker quit working last week. The doors won’t shut unless you hold your mouth right. You need a crowbar to get them open again. The alarm to tell you the door’s still open works about 50 % of the time, so it’s almost but not quite better than not having an alarm at all. Feh. Made in Korea, assembled in Mexico. What does LG stand for? Loser Goods. Lovely Goddess, Liquid Gold, Leftover Garbage. Last Gasp. Luckily, this is the one appliance we bought an extended warranty on. Must have had a premonition.
I’ve heard their phones are quite nice. Maybe they should stick to that Line of Goods.

In other news, Lewi bit me and made me bleed like a stuck pig last night. Little fucker. It was over a squeak toy. We’re going to have to get over that little hump or he’s going to walk with a limp. The dog dissing isn’t working for us. I need to go back and watch how Cesar does it. I’ve seen him fix this exact same problem. Just can’t remember how he did it.
Here’s Lewi and Goob wrestling at my feet, only watch it if you’re bored stiff. It’s just dogs chewing on each other. I think it’s amusing, but I’m easily amused. It gets a little funnier at the end.

One more thing. I wish I was THERE instead of here. This is a good time, we went one year. Nice people, great beer. Beautiful place.

We’re going to the coast next weekend, Son has agreed to come babysit the fur kids for the duration. Party Hardy! Sissy is always so happy when we leave, because she then gets lots of face time with her favorite person in the world. And it’s also the only time she can get on the bed and the couch. I love that she’s smart enough not to do that when we’re here. Only if Son is babysitting.


Idealism is what precedes experience; cynicism is what follows.
–David T. Wolf


I must be *very* experienced.

On computers

“All parts should go together without forcing. You must remember that the parts you are reassembling were disassembled by you. Therefore, if you can’t get them together again, there must be a reason. By all means, do not use a hammer.”
– IBM Manual, 1925

“A computer once beat me at chess, but it was no match for me at kick boxing.”
– Emo Philips


Urban Word of the Day

The word for May 06 is
Text Support

Advice, encouragement delivered via text… frequently related to dating and boss hating. Pronounced like tech support.

“Hey, thanks for all the text support last night! I have a coffee date with him today.”


How many of you twitter?  I signed up to follow a few people.  Adult people.  And they more or less twitter non-stop.  How do they do that? Sheesh. All I can ever think about to twitter is food, and really, no one gives a shit what you had for lunch.  Am I right?

It’s entertaining following the different lines of thought, seeing how differently people handle this medium.  Frankly, if I get one out a day it’s a miracle.  I’m a twitter leech.  There’s probably even a real name for that.

Comfort is relative – posting the dog for a change

The new dog gets comfortable

Lewi at the end of week one. Does he look comfy? He’s sound asleep, and will soon drip down onto Sissy, below. I was lying up there, too, and he crawled up and under the cushion. What I like here is that his normally tightly curled tail is hanging straight down. We had a hard day! Chasing cats, barking at the locals, etc.

I’ve completely bonded with this dog. Yay! I still don’t know what his story was, but maybe it doesn’t matter. I also don’t know that Sutter Buttes Rescue was completely honest about him, but it’s moot now, anyway. We’re all getting along famously. I still don’t know how old he is. One vet said two, one vet said five.

He was NOT toilet trained, but learned fast and has had no accidents that I’ve found after the first couple of days. He’s very willing to please. Good doggy! I’m still crating him at night in his own crate (after the Goober poop fiasco … don’t ask) and he seems fine with that. He snores almost as loud as Bob does, thank Jeebus for earplugs.