Dog number three

Number Three has got to go. That crazy bitch is tearing up everything in my yard, from potted plant pots to the actual yard itself! She's a menace. My other dogs just don't like her, and I'm afraid she'll kill one of them, sooner or later, if I let my guard down. I thought about putting an add in the paper but there are three lab and lab mixes in there today, and that's out of less than 10 ads! There's a basset in there too, and I'd like to have another basset, but shit, not with the monster around. Help! Maybe this is a job for the Democrats.

Barely alive

It's been a bad month for me. Dog number three damn near killed number two about a week after her initial attack on him. He's on the mend now, but she tore his little ass up good. Stitches, tubes, the whole nine yards. She's still here though. Now every time he wants out I have to chain her crazy ass up so she doesn't finish him off. Anyway, I've finally reconciled with the fact that she's here for the duration, unless I flip out and cap her. So I'm trying to break her of all manner of unacceptable behaviour. It's a project.

My grandmother has been deathly ill, or at least she's felt like she's dying for about three weeks now. Nothing helps. We've been to the doctor a few times. They've found new problems but can't seem to do anything about her nausea and dizziness (Meneire's). I love her, but I'm not sure how long I can hold out as a nurse, especially when it's this tough on her. I guess as long as I have to.

The weather has been pretty horrible. It's not so fucking hot as it can be this time of year, but it's hot one day and cold the next. Plus it's been especially dreary, even for this inflamed pimple on the earth's arse. I desire the desert.

Anyway, I'm feeling a little better, so maybe I'll have something to say one day. Maybe.

Dog fight!

Three mauled Two this morning. His little muzzle is scratched up and he's limping. Apparently Three killed a rat and Two thought he might relieve her of its carcass. Bad idea! Anyway, we'll need new procedures governing their together time, or else Three has to go. Nobody but One can maul Two and hope to get away with it.

Dog number three kills again

Dog number three has canceled a rat. That brings her total, in about a month, to two squirrels, one rat, and two turtles (or one turtle twice). The reptiles survived and I've relocated one of them to the neighbors yard. She's a killer. A destructo too, but that's another story.

A brief summary of the missing past week

It's been difficult for me to get into this. Actually, I've been depressed, and it's only now abating to the point that I might be able to string a couple of coherent sentences together. The long weekend, the new dog, the fate of the world, and my own plight were all weighting me down, but I'm better now.

So, what's been happening in the Outskirts of Reality?

• Tom Cruise has embarked on an apology campaign. Fuck him. I liked him better as the self-righteous light-weight he is.
• The Crocidile Hunter (Steve Irwin) got himself killed by a stingray. I liked the silly bastard in spite of himself. Why couldn't it have been Tom Cruise or George Bush?
• College football is underway. Media darlings Texas, Ohio State, USC, and Notre Dame have assumed the places they're apparently entitled to atop the AP poll. God damn. Look for USC to win it all unless they end up having to play a team from Florida (other than the Gators) or the SEC in the championship game.
• George Bush is blathering about the mythical "War on Terror". I have one question for that cock-bite. If those mother-fuckers are so damn dangerous, why don't we need to secure our borders? It's bullshit, plain and simple.
• Democrats are clamouring for Donald Rumsfeld's resignation, as if that would make some sort of difference. Those fecal flecks are even dumber, and potentially more dangerous, than the neo-cons. Fuck 'em.
• DirecTV was assing up on me last night, but the problem seems to have corrected itself this morning.
• The stray black dog is now "Named" and pretty much officially a member of the family. My other dogs don't like her much, and bark like crazy every morning hours before I'm ready to face the hell of another day. I haven't killed any of them. Yet.

That should more or less bring the blog up to speed. Stay tuned.

Stray dog begone?

Mom brought a stray dog home last Saturday morning. She's a cute puppy, part lab, and I'm guessing she's in the six month age range. She's a little thin and favors her right front paw. Other than being soaked and a little muddy, she was in pretty good shape.

Our plan is always the same with stray dogs. Put an ad in the paper. If that doesn't work, and it almost never does, turn them over to ARF in hopes they'll eventually be adopted by an animal lover. Sometimes the ARF part of the plan is realized. On at least one prior occasion, we kept the dog ourselves.

It's too early to say what will happen with this particular mutt. The ad's been swinging less than a day. No takers thus far. Mom really likes the puppy. My grandmother is always for getting rid of them. She's already been quizzing me about buying a pet crate for the beast, which she says will make her ARF eligible. Personally, I hate sending animals to ARF. They are a "no kill" organization, and I guess that's a good thing. On the other hand, many of their rescued pets live the vast majority of their lives in cages, and I know I'd rather be dead than live like that. Of course, I'm not a dog, despite what one of my ex-girlfriends claims.

If New Dog will sit still long enough, I'll get a picture of her and upload it here. She'd make a fine pet for one of you out there in blogosphere. Of course she won't get very big and isn't destructive. ;^/