I was reminded of somethin' when I was pawin' through the Homespun Bloggers list this morning where Wandering Mind has an interesting slant on the Olympics--and how we lost. Hmmmm.

AHM didn't watch much of the Olympics--most times she already knew the results so why bother watchin' people tryin' to pretend there was a mystery about the winners. I can't see the stuff anyway, so I could have cared less… Except…

Did ya' know animals compete in the Olympics? Yep, they do. And did ya' know there is one sport where men and women compete equally? (AHM said our basketball team would have been better if they'd let the women play on the men's team but I don't know cat barf about basketball so I'll take her word.)

'Course it wasn't canines competin' (their loss). It was equines. Horses. Somethin' NBC totally ignored. Well, maybe they showed somethin' on BRAVO or MSNBC during their wee-hours broadcast, but AHM couldn't find it. USA won medals, too--just like they usually do. Sure as hell did a lot better than those silly runners everyone was moanin' and groanin' over.

So, in an effort to round out the coverage, here's the result from the sport where men, women, and animals compete equally.

"ATHENS, 27 August - The Olympic Equestrian Games of Athens 2004 saw six sets of medals given out in three disciplines at Markopoulo Olympic Equestrian Centre.

"For the first time, Eventing was held in a new format in which individual winners were decided by a second round of jumping. France won Team gold in front of Great Britain and the USA.

[…]

"The individual medals in Eventing went to Leslie LAW (GBR), riding his partner in World and European Championships, grey gelding SHEAR L'EAU. American Kimberly SEVERSON and WINSOME ANDANTE were awarded Silver, with Bronze going to multiple European Champion Pippa FUNNELL (GBR), riding PRIMMORE'S PRIDE.

We screwed up in Dressage--American horses just do not take to prancin' and dancin' real well. We leave that to the Germans and Spanish and the Low Countries.

"The Jumping competitions at Markopoulo were decided in two jump-offs for silver and bronze for the teams, as well as the individual medals.

"Germany won their third successive gold medal by a large margin, while the USA and Sweden had to fight for their medals in a jump-off. The USA won silver with seven seconds advantage in front of Sweden, with both teams staying clear in the jump-off.

"Dubliner Cian O'CONNOR, 24, won gold in the individual competition with WATERFORD CRYSTAL. It was Ireland's first medal at the Athens Games.

"Silver went to Brazilian Rodrigo PESSOA. He claimed the first individual medal for his country after two team bronze medals in Sydney and Atlanta.

"American Chris KAPPLER landed a bronze after he had to retire his mount ROYAL KALIBER in the Jump-Off."

Now on to the political Olympics.

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posted by Harrison at 1:37 PM

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Human Female Meryl Yourish was kind enough to direct my attention to this story--thank you, HF Meryl. It's kinda' like deliverin' a high, hangin' curve ball to--well--pick the slugger of your choice. (You think I'm gonna' offend my readers by choosin' the wrong player?)

"The association Pups for Peace, financed by gifts from the Jewish diaspora has specially trained these dogs for five months and they are to be used in other towns," the official, Roni Latan, told AFP.

"The dogs are German Shepherds, Belgian Shepherds and Labradors, chosen for their hunting instincts, he said. "If they detect explosives they must alert the agents and above all must not take hold of the explosive."

"The Israeli army and police use bomb-sniffing dogs but it was the first time they have been used on public transport anywhere in the country."

Like it says at the top of the blog--"…cats simply cannot be trusted to do the heavy and sometimes dirty work required in the war on terror."

Just consider a fe-lying placed in such a position of urgent importance. Once you stop laughin' your butt off, you'd realize you could never get 'em to wear that yellow vest thingy without losin' half the skin off your arms. (I gotta' say, they are not the most attractive piece of outerwear I've ever seen, so I'm sorta' on the cats' side of that issue.) On to the next problem--the damn fe-lying would never get on the bus in the first place, simply because they know it's where they're supposed to be. You'd have to lay down a trail of pussy treats and pray.

Once they were done eatin', they'd have to plop their expansive posteriors in the middle of the aisle for their postprandial wash up. After that--if you're lucky and the gods are smiling--they might amble a few steps up and down to take a gander at the scenery. 'Course the odds are heavily weighed toward them barfin' up a toxic pile of masticated treats and fur rather than findin' any explosives. It's safe to say the bus, bus stop, and all life forms in the general vicinity would be returned to a subatomic existence before any fe-lying would manage to find a burnt out match much less a bomb.

I do think Pups for Peace should consider usin' some of us little guys. First, we take up a whole hell of a lot less room, especially on public transport. Second, we can get into all the small spaces those big hulks can't reach. Not every terrorist is gonna' leave his knapsack lyin' conveniently on top of or in front of a seat. We terriers are bred to "go to ground." (Terra--earth--terriers--get it?) We could crawl the whole length of a bus or train car--or even a plane--checkin' under the seats lookin' for the teeniest little package. Well--other terriers might. I don't do the crawl-through-old-chewing gum-squashed bugs-and-baby-spitup scene. Bet they could convince a Jack Russell to do it, though, if they could be convinced not to brag about it all over town.

Just for good measure I looked up these Pups for Peace people. They're located in Seattle and I've added their link if you feel moved to toss a few donations their way. Their work is not only savin' lives, it's the ultimate irony. Muslims detest dogs--say we're "unclean." So I say we help our fellow canines "clean" a few Islamic clocks!

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posted by Harrison at 11:04 PM

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I'm still tryin' for a muzzle to muzzle interview with DOTUS Barney and he's still dodging the issue. Jimmy Orr (the White House internet guy) claims he wants the White House to be "bloggier." Well, here's their chance. Could make some points, considering I've got an international readership.

(Barney used to have a blog of his own, but no one's helped him update it. I offered to do the job--for a reasonable fee, of course--very reasonable--unfortunately he hasn't responded.)

'Course this could be the reason Barney's keepin' a low profile. And considerin' his profile is pretty low to start with, that's really low.

"We have updated our Band of Brothers chart in the style of the New York Times and have discovered that Texas Republicans, the KKK, and an unknown dog are behind the pro-Kerry veterans group."

Sure would like to get his take on the newest Kerry spin up and down the rivers of Vietnam with the mysterious "VC."

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posted by Harrison at 1:24 AM

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Well, this is just sick--a Demo-cat tryin' to bark with the big dogs. Bad cat, Kerry! Bad, bad cat. This is a mess of unclumping kerry--er--kitty litter if I ever heard it.

"A new four-legged angle -- actually a dog named "VC" -- has suddenly materialized surrounding Sen. John Kerry's swift boat service in Vietnam. In a 2004 presidential candidate questionnaire for Humane USA, Mr. Kerry was asked whether any pets have had an impact on his life."

I'd sure like a chance to make an impact on his pants leg. Might even leave a little present on his fancy footwear too.

"I have always had pets in my life, and there are a few that I remember very fondly," Mr. Kerry replied.

Yeah--we know all about the hamster, Mr. Kerry. I'll bet you're reeeeal fond of him, aren't ya'?

"When I was serving on a Swift Boat in Vietnam, my crewmates and I had a dog we called VC. One day as our Swift Boat was heading up a river, a mine exploded hard under our boat," he continued. "After picking ourselves up, we discovered VC was MIA (missing in action). Several minutes of frantic search followed, after which we thought we'd lost him."

Anyone else notice how people 'n other living creatures seem to end up fallin' overboard whenever Kerry's around? Maybe someone should ask the man about Jimmy Hoffa. Hell, maybe Jimmy Hoffa served on a swift boat with Kerry and got left behind one Christmas in Cambodia.

"We were relieved when another boat called asking if we were missing a dog." Said Mr. Kerry: "It turns out VC was catapulted from the deck of our boat and landed, confused but unhurt, on the deck of another boat in our patrol."

J.J. Scheele, program director of Humane USA, confirmed yesterday that her organization did, in fact, receive the above statement from the Kerry campaign.

So I guess Kerry's motto is now "no dog left behind?"

"No military records on Mr. Kerry's Web site, which aides say is a complete accounting, mention a mine exploding under his boat or any dog. The only report of a mine detonating "near" Mr. Kerry's PCF 94 was March 13, 1969, when Mr. Kerry says he was injured and a man knocked overboard."

Hugh Hewitt talked with Steve Gardner about this the other day. (Scroll down. Gardner's one of the Swifties who really was in the same boat as Kerry for a few months, so he should know about this stuff.)

HH: "Steve, was there a dog named VC on your boat?"
SG: ""Buddy, to the best of my knowledge (laughing), I never saw any dog at any time on the 44 boat."
HH: "Is it possible that it was on the other boat."
SG: "Oh, a distinct possibility (laughing)."
HH: "In the time that you were on the swift boats --totally-- did any of the swift boats have a dog?"
SG: "Never saw one, ever."
HH: "Would it have been a good idea to have a dog on the swift boats?"
SG: "Not likely."
HH: "Why not?"
SG: "Because there was just too much action going on. We had hot brass rolling around there any time we were in a firefight. He would have got beat up."
HH: "Is this the first time you have ever heard of the dog story?"
SG: "It sure is."

Uh huh. Another "dog-that-didn't-bark" story from a Demo-cat's yap.

"Look. It is possible that Kerry had a dog named VC after Gardner left Kerry's command. And it is possible that VC the combat dog got blown off the boat when the boat hit a mine --even though there's no reference to the mine that would fit the occasion. And just because many of my listeners have e-mailed me to note that there was a dog on Martin Sheen's boat in Apocalypse Now doesn't mean that Kerry "borrowed" the dog from the movie."

Life imitates art, eh? You wish. Stick to the hamster, Mr. Kerry Litter.

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posted by Harrison at 11:11 PM

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Proof they're workin' paw in litter with all those other shadowy terrorists.

"Nicosia (Reuters) - Dozens of stray cats and their fleas put Cyprus state radio off the air Tuesday as fumigation experts were called in."

Fleas! Why did it have to be FLEAS?!!!

"Cyprus Broadcasting Corporation (CyBC) Radio 3 program said only songs and news bulletins would be broadcast for the next 24 hours on all three of the CyBC's radio channels due to "an immediate need for spraying."

They might wanna' think about spaying while they're at it.

"The problem with the cats is causing a terrible situation, there hundreds of them and they are running into the studios and over the roof," said one reporter who declined to be named. "At one point, one cat fell through the roof and landed on someone's head," he said.

Flea-ridden fe-lyings fallin' on one's head trumps dead pigeons every time. Not to mention rats, squirrels, and giant ants.

"They have made a mess and broken everything in my office."

Wanton, mindless destruction--it's what fe-lyings are all about.

"Staff said they were told there was a possibility the three CyBC stations could stay off the air for as long as three days."

Call in the K-9 Corps to send those fe-lying terrorists to the big kitty litter pan in the sky.

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posted by Harrison at 1:55 PM

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It is really gettin' tough navigatin' through all the dirty kitty litter flyin' around over these Swift Vet guys and, damn, that stuff stings when it nails you in the schnozz--right Mr. Kerry?

The Demo-cats are out there hissin' 'n spittin' 'n howlin' to the FEC that the Vets are really workin' for the President and should be sued or fined or arrested or burned or somethin' just so they STOP advertisin' their objections. Then there are all the pundits-in-the-know (who probably know the same amount as I do, but since they're humans other humans actually listen to them--big mistake, of course, but, hey--go figure). Well they're all tsk-tskin' about how GWB shouldn't have signed that campaign finance reform bill 'cause now it's comin' back to bite him on the ass.

Well, maybe, maybe not. A few days ago, a reader over at that puppy blender's place made a good point (scroll down):

"For almost a year there have been attack ads against Bush. Bush displayed much more character by not demanding that the books and movies and ads that have been attacking him be banned the way Kerry is trying to do. Bush stood up for the rights of even those who opposed him and lied about him.

"Kerry tries to silence any opposition, in much the same way as portrayed in Fahrenheit 451 (the original book). That is frightening! And to make matters worse, the mainstream media is in collusion with him."

I've written before about bein' in show biz and havin' to get along with lots and lots of major egos and listen to all sorts of crap. We canines manage. But once and a while we'd get a cathole who just couldn't hold it together when facin' the big guns.

Now there was this one jerk who always seemed to have a burr up his butt. Whined about every little thing--really was givin' we Aussies a bad rep. (We pride ourselves on being dignified representatives of the terrier nation.) Every time I was in the class ring with him he'd climb down off that friggin' table and launch himself at me, draggin' at his lead, snarlin' and snappin' and yappin' insults for no other reason than I was the top dog to beat. He hated that! AHM and me would just stand there, smilin' and waitin' for his handler to haul him back in line. Sure I was on alert in case the human fe-lying at the other end of the lead let go (which, considerin' the human, could have happened) but I never did a thing. I was the big dog. I didn't have to bark. All I had to do was stand back and let everyone see the other guy actin' like a fool.

Worked every time.

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posted by Harrison at 1:28 PM

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I'm on the cutting edge. Me, me, me.

Well, me and Greg Hlatky over at A Dog's Life who was the first to post the LBJ Silver Star story on August 11th. 'Course he could have dug it up over at CNN's story pages. (Bein' CNN, I thought that link was a fairy tale site.)

It was part of the August 15th weekly roundup at Homespun Bloggers too. (See what you're missin' by not checkin' them out every Monday?) Even that puppy blender guy tossed out a crumb of reference to the LBJ/JKerry parallel, albeit a few days later. (Great minds indeed…)

Now MSNBC wants to make a big splash over their story from today? Damn waste of time readin' that Demo-cat lovin' MSNBC anyway. We canines and our humans can smell out a story much sooner.

Okay--egotistical snit fit over. Have a nice day.

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posted by Harrison at 5:23 PM

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Proof that even the most timid pup is better than a fraidy cat. 'Course I suppose a fe-lying could have tried to hack up a fur ball and spit it at the intruder... [Insert hysterical laughing here.]

"A cocker spaniel’s bark took a bite out of crime early Wednesday when a burglar slipped into a Medford home through an open window. When the 6-foot-2, 200-pound burglar tried to enter a bedroom occupied by residents of a home in the 1400 block of North Keeneway Drive at about 3 a.m., a normally timid dog named Cassie went into attack mode, her owner said.

"She growled and alerted my husband, who yelled ‘Cassie, get him!’ " said the woman, who did not want to be identified. "The guy ran back out of the house and dove out the window he came in through," she said. "He had no idea if a pit bull was after him or what. He just knew a dog was after him, growling and barking."

Save yourself some money on those fancy security systems. You'll get as much protection from just buyin' one of their little signs and stickin' in your yard. But if you get a dog… Well, the results speak for themselves.

Which reminds me… AHM likes readin' mystery books. Since I'm thinkin' about writin' my own book, she talks about what she gets from the library and let me tell you, there are waaaay too many "cat" mysteries out there! Boy oh boy oh boy. Those supercilious Siamese drive me nuts the way they've conned their fictional human companion into thinkin' they can read minds.* And that totally obnoxious Sneaky Pie Brown from Charlottesville** just frosts my Liver Snaps®! She actually wrote one book where her nosy fe-lying Mrs. Murphy drives a car! Give me a break. I'm good and egotistical, but even I would never try to tell anyone I could drive a car. But she does admit the fe-lying pseudo heroine needs a dog to help solve the cases--a Corgi, no less.

Guess I'm eventually gonna' have to step up to the plate and restore some order to the writin' universe.

*Lillian Jackson Braun The Cat Who… series
**Rita Mae Brown series.

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posted by Harrison at 1:13 AM

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"Faithful husband, soccer dad, basset owner, and former cowboy" seeks pictures of RNC delegates bein' sleazy in NYC. Just think of him as a purveyor of family values. Or a voyeur. I vote the second. Demo-cats can't do more than watch and snark anyway. Oh, and type one-handed, of course--I've heard they keep a good portion of the hand cream industry in business. Apparently, they'll do anything to get a few jollies.

Wonder if he knows that pony he's sittin' on was takin' a leak while his picture was bein' snapped?

Other convention news. Michele Catalano at A Small Victory grabs Ted Rall where it hurts. (I resisted the easy rhyme 'cause Ted Rall has nothin' to rhyme with.)

One thing not mentioned in the post is that NYC wanted both conventions in New York, but the Demo-cats wouldn't share! (Scroll down to "Site Selection Process.") But that's pretty much SOP with Demo-cats, isn't it?

As the selection process began in the first part of 2002, New York City was a sentimental favorite to hold at least one, and possibly both, of the conventions as a show of support following the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks. […] However, the Democrats' RFP had an exclusivity clause in it, meaning that once a city is chosen to host the party's convention it must agree to drop any efforts to attract the other party's convention. New York City would not agree to that, although Democrats might possibly have waived the provision if they had determined New York was the best site and been convinced that the city would have put its full resources into the Democratic convention. [My emphasis.]

Betcha' if that had happened New Yorkers would have hated the DNC and the RNC 83% equally.

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posted by Harrison at 1:34 PM

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You can hold the onions 'n tomato 'n mustard 'n mayo 'n ketchup 'n bread as well. I prefer the basics.

But the bigger issue--why isn't this a national holiday!?

"Signs welcoming visitors to Seymour [WI], 15 miles west of Green Bay, proudly proclaim it "The Home of the Hamburger."

"Every diner on Main St. peddles its own variation, and there has been talk for years of building a world hamburger museum here. Until then, there's Burger Fest. On the first Saturday in August each year, the town of 3,300 cooks up this tribute to Charlie Nagreen, a.k.a. "Hamburger Charlie," who is credited--at least by the locals--with inventing the hamburger at the Outagamie County Fair in 1885."

According to the World Magazine Blog, Charlie had a distinctive patter to sell his concoction:

"Hamburger, hamburger, hamburger hot
With an onion in the middle and a pickle on top.
Makes your lips go flippity-flop.
Come on in, try one order.
Fried in butter,
listen to it sputter."

I can hear the food police howling even as I write.

PS. Be sure to check out the recipes at the end of the article. Slurp.

*"Special orders don't upset us…" From the Burger King® jingle.

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posted by Harrison at 1:53 PM

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This John Kerry quagmire 'bout his Vietnam memories versus the Swift Vets' evidence (something Beldar calls the Tar Baby strategy and fisks the new LA Times piece) is remindin' me more 'n more of how you herd a bull. A lot of bull in this case. And believe me, I know a thing or three about herdin' bulls.

Yeah, yeah, I know--I look like I'm just a little guy and I'm supposed to herd sheep (who can be real pissants when they wanna' be) not bulls. But what are ya' gonna' do when you're a half-grown pup on a CA ranch and the next-door-ranch bull gets loose to wander all over the landscape?

There he was--lost and horny in the middle of our yard, lasciviously eyeing the cows in the next rancher's field. AHM could have tried calling the owner (which you should know from previous readin' she wasn't likely to do) but the bull would be in the field (and the cows) by the time he arrived. What to do, what to do…

Send in the cavalry.

Dad and me were sittin' on the porch watchin' it all and layin' bets on how long it would take the bull to find a way into the field with the cows who (being dumb, not-even-rich cows) were sashayin' their butts all over the place and makin' "come hither" cow noises. (I could probably do a Jessica Cutler riff here, but 1) it's already been done and 2) AHM doesn't want me goin' all "wonkie.") Anyhow, AHM barged out of the house, opened the porch gate, and said "Get the bull." Then she marched over to the gate leading to a small field away from the cows and pointed. "In here, fellas."

Get the bull? Who the shit was she kiddin'? We'd never herded anything except other dogs in the show ring (and they mostly followed us anyway). But that didn't seem to bother Dad at all. He went off like a shot, straight for the bull's nose. Well, damn, what was I supposed to do except follow him? I figured I'd take the end without the horns, though.

That bull didn't know what hit him. Maybe he thought the mosquitoes-from-hell were on steroids or somethin'. He lowered his head to eyeball Dad and got a nip that made him snort crap into Dad's face. While he wasn't lookin' I took a shot at the nearest heel. That made him move forward, but he swung his head around to see what the hell had teeth in the general vicinity of his balls. Dad was right at him again, makin' him turn back to the open gate, so I gave him another reminder on his other heel. He charged forward and Dad leaped up and sideways a few feet closer to the open gate. I took another swipe. Nose. Heel. Nose. Heel. Nip, nip, nip, nip. We were getting' the hang of this herdin' thing.

By now the bull is bellowing and the cows are wailing. Damn, they could wail! Don't buy in to that "cattle are lowing" business, by the way, 'cause there's nothin' "low" about the sound of a bunch of cows in heat being deprived of a potential group lay. Of course just for good measure, we're tellin' that stupid bull to get the hell out of our yard at the top of our lungs. With all the racket we were makin' you'd think someone would have showed up to find out what the hell was going on.

Well, no one showed to help, so it was up to Dad and me. Between the three of us, we left quite a churned up track in the grass, trampled the ground myrtle, uprooted some impatiens, knocked a branch or two off the dogwood tree and pretty much flattened a Rose of Sharon bush. But the final score was terriers=2, bull=0.

Let's see a fe-lying do that!

The Swift Vets seem to be doin' the same thing to Kerry. Nip, nip, nip, nip.

PS. We got rib bones for dinner. And this time they had lots of meat on 'em.

PPS. Beldar links dug up at Instapundit.

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posted by Harrison at 11:46 AM

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Ghouls. These people have no shame.

"This is a personal crusade for Vegan Campaign Coordinator Matt Rice, who lost his grandmother to Alzheimer’s a little more than a year ago. Rice had the idea of using President Reagan’s image and petitioning Mrs. Reagan for support."

Okay, I got a question. If I chew off this Rice cathole's balls, will I be eatin' meat? Or do ya' think they've shriveled down into a couple of peas and would count as veggies?

"PETA recently sent a letter to the Office of Ronald Reagan, asking for Nancy Reagan’s support for this important public outreach campaign. Instead of embracing this lifesaving effort, the office instead insisted that we “cease and desist.”

Go vote to tell PETA "cease and desist." Oh, and resist PETA's attempt to induce guilt over voting "no."

Dug up at NRO The Corner.

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posted by Harrison at 11:44 AM

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Especially when I read things like this.

"A huge ant colony measuring 100 kilometres (62 miles) across has been found under the southern Australian city of Melbourne, scientists said. Monash University researcher Elissa Suhr said the supercolony of Argentine ants was threatening native biodiversity in Australia's second largest city. "

Would that be human or animal biodiversity? I gotta' say there are a few humans in Australia these days I could do without!

"[Suhr] said Argentine ants were ranked among the world's 100 worst animal invaders and had found an ideal habitat in the Mediterranean-type eco-systems of south-eastern Australia."

For some reason this story reminds me of Meryl Yourish…

"Within a short amount of time, more ants appeared in the now-clean space, which was what I was afraid of. I know they lay a scent trail, and I try desperately to kill all the ants so they don't bring back the smell or whatever they do to lead their buddies to food. So I killed those ants, and kept checking. More ants appear. Kill ants. More ants appear. Kill ants. Still more ants appear. Kill ants. I had this imaginary scene in my head, over at Ant HQ:

"Numbers 1304 to 1382, report to grid 71 for forage."
"Numbers 1383 to 1403, forage party hasn't returned; go to grid 71 and see what's happened."
"Numbers 1404 to 1411, go to grid 71 to see what's happened to rescue party."
"Numbers 1412 to 1417, report to grid 71 and bring back news of the last rescue party."
"Numbers 1418 to 1422, grid 71, and stop grumbling or you'll be on larvae duty for the next three cycles."

Yep. That sounds pretty much like what's happenin' in Melbourne all right. They better read up on how to handle the problem.

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posted by Harrison at 12:31 AM

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Yeah, that's been AHM these last few days. Boy oh boy, if it wasn't checkin' on the hurricane it was writin' letters. I think somethin' not good is goin' on, 'cause she's been in a real pissy mood lately.

That didn't stop her from bringin' home a stray pup the other day. A big stray pup--all legs and ears. Found him wandering the streets with a chain padlocked to his collar! Geeze! Some people. 'Course he gallumped around here like a fool--got all the bitches excited, even tho' no one could do anything. He had to go off to the shelter before he broke something serious, but AHM said someone picked him up, so I guess it all turned out for the best. Sort of. Hate to think of the poor kid bein' back on that chain, though.

Then on Saturday we were out walkin' with some other dog pals--I go along when AHM helps out the neighbor dogs when their humans are away. (The rest of the pack is just too silly to go--dancin' around and barkin' and gettin' their leashes all tangled. She finally said enough when they managed to get her all tangled--with a Stop sign.)

Anyway, there we were, strollin' along the avenue late at night with Darwin (biiiiig hound) and Everton (biiiiiiggger Lab) when some kid suddenly appears out of the neighbor's drive and trips over the trash bin. He acted like nothin' was up and just walked off--with a canvas sack hangin' over his shoulder!

Bein' the smart human she is, does AHM go home and call the cops? Nooooo. The kid would be long gone by the time anyone showed up. Does she walk in the other direction? Nooooo. We go right for the chase--sort of--followin' the kid through the streets to see where he was headed. Yeah, yeah--I know what you're thinkin'. But that kid wasn't gonna' deal with anyone with three big dogs (all right--two and a half big dogs!) and a stun gun. We were an interestin' parade, though--the kid tryin' to look like he was really just out for an evening stroll (and strollin' faster with each step) and a female with three beasts strainin' at their leashes trotting half a block behind. Add some fog and a deserted moor or two and you've got a scene out of Hound(s) of the Baskervilles.

Eventually the kid turned a corner onto a street with a car driving toward him--and vanished. When we got there, he was totally gone--with no drive or house to go to--like he jumped behind a hedge to avoid gettin' caught in the car headlights. Damn! We loitered at the corner, peein' on everything and anything we could find to kill some time, but he musta' snuck off through the shrubbery. Nothin' on the other streets either. The neighbor said her car and stuff was okay when AHM checked the next day, so maybe we helped keep the neighborhood autos unmolested by a bored teenage lookin' to add to his CD collection.

Oh yeah. Speakin' of helpin', there's a site we found at A Small Victory while pawin' through everything we've missed on the blogs. It's called Strengthen the Good and they're puttin' together a bunch of bloggers to help people and families with mini-charities. Everyone should check it out--and join--ASAP.

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posted by Harrison at 12:08 AM

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AHM has never liked Demo-cats. Maybe she got bitten by one when she was little, I don't know. Or maybe she startin' learnin' about Demo-cats from the oldsters in her life--the same way I teach my pups the way to behave in the world. Whatever. All I know is, as long as I've been around, she's done everythin' but lift her leg on 'em--which she can't do anyway, so I guess that doesn't count.

After dinner last night we were taken our evenin' walk through the blogs and found this story over at A Dog's Life. Surprised us both, I gotta' say. Guess that Demo-cat Kerry was learnin' from his oldsters. (It makes me wonder what young pussy Demo-cats have been learnin' from Bill Clinton…)

"In 1941, Representative [Lyndon] Johnson was running in a tight special election race for the Senate seat open due to the death of Morris Sheppard. His opponent, Governor W. Lee "Pass the Biscuits, Pappy" O'Daniel was an isolationist. Johnson, in tight with FDR, positioned himself as the "preparedness" candidate, pledging "If the day ever comes when my vote must be cast to send your boy to the trenches - that day Lyndon Johnson will leave his Senate seat to go with him."

"It was a crowd-pleasing line, but Johnson narrowly lost when he failed to steal as many votes as O'Daniel, a mistake he would not make seven years later. Then on December 7th, Johnson was forced to make a decision about his career."

Johnson "enlisted" without resignin' from his seat in the House and tried to keep himself safe until his opponents sniffed out his plan. Then he set the example Kerry followed in his career.

"Johnson flew to a primitive airbase in New Guinea and their wangled his way on board a bombing mission on Lae, even though as a Navy officer he had no place in an Army Air Force mission.

"Bumped off his plane due to a call of nature, Johnson seated himself on another B-26. The bombers came under attack by Zeros and Johnson's plane was hit by bullets. Johnson by all accounts was calm and collected during the few minutes of combat, though he took no part. The plane Johnson originally intended to fly in was shot down with the loss of all personnel.

"Making his way back to Australia the next day, Johnson eventually got to Melbourne and MacArthur's headquarters. Listening to Johnson's report, MacArthur awarded him the Silver Star,…"

Hrumph. Guess MacArthur was rememberin' who signed his paychecks.

"Johnson was at first reluctant to accept the decoration MacArthur bestowed on him. He wrestled with his conscience and won. Purchasing a Silver Star at an Army-Navy store in Washington, he had it ceremoniously pinned on his lapel... several times at various rallies.

"Johnson's story about his combat experience - all 13 minutes of it - became increasingly embellished. He was "Raider" Johnson who had lost 25 or 38 or 40 pounds because of dengue fever contracted while living with American boys in the jungles of New Guinea. He was bombed and strafed during his two and a half or more months in the war zone. He was too tall for a parachute, so he always gave his away. And he became increasingly incredulous that he didn't receive some greater decoration for his valor."

Sounds familiar--Demo-cats turnin' tail and runnin'. Fe-lyings always run like hell, fur all stickin' out, then strut around sayin' how they fought it out to the bitter end.

What a bunch of fraidy (Demo) cats.

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posted by Harrison at 12:35 PM

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Cat in Cockpit Forces Emergency Landing

"Brussels, Belgium (AP) - A Belgian airliner made an emergency landing after an agitated passenger--a cat--got into the cockpit and attacked the co-pilot, the airline said Tuesday.
The SN Brussels flight from the Belgian capital to Vienna, Austria, had been in the air about 20 minutes Monday when "it was noticed" that a passenger's pet had escaped from its cage, "although it is not yet clear how," according to an airline statement."

When, when, when are humans gonna' learn there is no end to fe-lying underpawed tricks? I know how to open cabinet doors, velcro fasteners, and metal jacket snaps. (Learned that last bit when AHM had the mistaken idea of buyin' us all little ski jackets to keep us warm during a real cold winter. Guess she didn't notice I'm already wearin' a fur coat!) Zippers are a bit harder, but I'm gettin' 'em.

Why would humans think fe-lyings can't do the same things? Takes 'em a bit longer, of course, but they can learn with lots of special ed classes.

"Once free, the animal proceeded to wander around the cabin," slipping into the cockpit when meals were being delivered to the two-man flight crew, it said. "At this stage the animal became agitated and nervous," it said."

Uh huh, uh huh. That's how they caught that shoe bomber wasn't it? (And how long have I been warnin' you about fe-lyings and shoes?) So the terrorist got agitated and nervous. 'Course I imagine when you're tryin' to give yourself a hotfoot you would get a bit agitated and nervous.

"An airline spokeswoman added that the cat scratched the copilot's arm. The pilot decided to return to Brussels as a precaution, and the 58 passengers departed once more two hours later on another flight."

That pilot lucked out. You know how fe-lyings usually behave. Imagine what would have happened if that cat terrorist had launched an attack on the pilot, leapin' from the dim recesses of the cockpit directly to the pilot's shoulders as we all know fe-lying terrorists love to do. That plane might have taken a swan dive.

"The cat had been checked in Oslo, Norway, in an internationally approved "flight transport bag," but the airline said it may end up changing its procedures for pets in the cabin once it concludes its investigation."

Probably a blonde, blue-eyed cat--they'll enlist all sorts to thwart security checks. I suggest airlines tell all owners to bell the cat.

"At no time throughout the incident was the passengers' security affected in any way," it said."

Well they have to say that, don't they? Can't scare the general public with just how ineffective anti-fe-lying terror precautions are. As they say, "The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men/Gang aft agley,"

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posted by Harrison at 1:28 PM

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Meryl Yourish is startin' to get the message about the real agenda of fe-lyings.

And if you scroll down you'll see Gracie is learnin' the hard way why not to infiltrate canine territory.

I predict Meryl will have to pay a price for laughin', though, so watch out ma'am. Fe-lyings still buy in to the fantasy they used to be gods (kinda' like Muslims still thinkin' their culture should rule the world). Ya' know what they say about "…the mills of God…"

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posted by Harrison at 1:01 PM

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Had a feeling the story this guy told was a bunch of used kitty litter. Never believed he was keepin' the monkey to cook and clean--in fact, the only monkey I ever knew was less than useless. Had to wear diapers 'cause he wasn't smart enough to be housebroken--just let fly whenever the spirit moved him. A real Monkey Moore.

"August 9, 2004 -- The "disabled" Brooklyn man whose monkey has bitten two kids says he needs his attack macaque to help him cook, open drawers and comb his hair — but here's the ex-con doing construction and even shoveling snow without any help whatsoever.

"The Post has obtained damning photographs showing that Steve Seidler, who spent nine years in federal prison for dealing cocaine, may not need Darla the macaque after all — and that he might have been making a monkey of taxpayers for years.

"Pictures taken over the winter and last summer show Seidler doing yardwork, digging his car out and even building a wheelchair ramp—leading his Mill Basin neighbors to believe his monkey act was simply a dog-and-pony show."

I resent the "dog" part of that expression. My shows were always classy. No jumpin' on a pony's back wearin' a tutu (although I have been known to wear a red tie at Christmas) and wavin' to the crowd. (Hem does the tricks, the little suck-up.)

"Seidler retired on disability from the NYPD in 1984 and has since been collecting three-quarters of his salary for a hand injury — meaning he has been getting $2,200 a month tax-free for the past 20 years. That's a total of more than $500,000 of taxpayers' money."

This is somethin' I know about. Up close and personal. These kind of people need to be caught and cut off. The way humans can figure out ways to steal money from other humans amazes me. And they don't seem to feel at all guilty about it. Hell, even I feel guilty when I screw up.

Ya' know, from what I've seen I've decided humans are either takers (mostly liberal-type people) or givers. Silly Human Female is of those humans who's got what AHM calls "an entitlement mentality." Guess that means she's a "taker." 'Course she always pretended to be a "giver," but, like AHM said once, don't ever ask SHF to "drop by sometime" 'cause she will--and forget to leave. Hmmmm--better wait to write about that or I'll never get to the rest of this story.

"Ever since Darla bit 2-year-old Tommy Romano at a Brooklyn Key Food, Seidler has only been seen leaving his house in a motorized wheelchair, for which he has a metal ramp going up to his house.

"But neighbors—who wished to remain anonymous—said they had hardly ever seen him use the chair before and that he often pushed it up the ramp himself.

"Seidler told reporters last week that he suffers from emphysema, asthma, and poor circulation, which is why he needed the monkey."

When my dad was real sick with a bad heart, he used to have problems getting' his breath. Couldn't jump up on his favorite chair and sure couldn't take walks any more. Ya' don't muck about in the garden and dig your car out of a snowdrift in that condition. Hell, Dad could barely go up and down the outside steps much less build a ramp! (Okay, so he couldn't build a ramp on his best days, but you get my meanin'.)

"Dennis Trott, the lawyer who successfully defended Seidler last year against a health-code violation, said the photos, which he hadn't seen, did not necessarily prove anything. "He could get up and walk for a while, but he would experience fatigue, shortness of breath, and maybe his legs would give out," Trott said. Trott also claimed that some neighbors had personal vendettas against Seidler."

That Trott is a John Edwards wanna-be for sure. Wonder how many taxpayer dollars he got for defendin' that piece of clumpin' kitty litter?

We got a Seidler type livin' in our neighborhood. Really creeps us out, the ugly son of a cat. And yeah, most of the neighbors have personal vendettas against him. Aside from resentin' the dollars they're shellin' out to keep the jerk in booze and cigarettes, the cathole walks around all day harassing women and peekin' in neighborhood windows. Wife says his brain is messed up and he doesn't know what he's doin'. Right--like a fe-lying doesn't know. The cops know what he's doin'. He's got a rap sheet a half-mile long.

And he sure as hell can use his brain well enough to avoid AHM and her handy-dandy stun gun.

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posted by Harrison at 10:32 AM

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We are now "International" Terriorists.

"Hello, I am Takashi Ito, a Webmaster of dogmark.net "Cool DOG Site of the Day." Congratulations! "dogmark.net" selected your wonderful site The Terriorists for "Cool DOG Site of the Day" on 9th of August, 2004. [T]he site will be introduced on that day."

They also have a "Cool DOG Site of the Month" contest, so follow the link on the upper left and VOTE FOR ME! I've never been near Vietnam. I've never seen the border of Cambodia in a Christmas tree ball. I hate jungles, rivers, canals, lakes, boats, rafts, those inflatable cushion thingys you float on in the pool…huh? Oh. Okay, okay… Vote for Us.

"[D]ogmark.net Cool Dog Site of the Day" started in April 1994. We introduce Cool Dog Sites everyday. Visitors are from more than 68 countries around the world. The selected Cool Dog Sites [total] more than 3,650 which you can visit in our archives pages.

"[D]ogmark.net Cool Dog Site of the Day" has received many awards and [was] also introduced in several magazines like "FIDO" in Sweden, "DOG FANCY" in USA, and a book published in Taiwan introducing webpages of the world. We have two regular essays…which are "A DOG'S LIFE IN NYC" by Ms. B.L. Ochman and "Homeopathy for Dogs" by Dr. Jill Eliott."

Update: Okay, I guess you have to wait to vote until all the candidates are entered. Don't worry--I'll remind you all again at the end of August.

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posted by Harrison at 1:46 AM

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I've been bad by not mentioning one of my favorite places to visit--A Dog's Life. Tonight AHM was talkin' with a friend about showing dogs and I remembered I had never mentioned this site. Greg Hlatky's "lovely bride" shows a Borzoi (aka Russian Wolfhound) named Lacey and he regularly reports on their success. And they are very successful. (Congratulations, Lacey.)

Gotta' say I don't know many Borzois--they were always stickin' our classes in the ring next to the Chows or the Staffs or the Dobes. What I like about reading Greg's blog are the reports of dogs shows in places my dad used to tell me about when I was just a pup--Beaver Valley KC, Mahoning-Shenango KC, Ashtabula. My dad was just a pup himself when he visited those places--our careers were mostly in California--but I remember him sayin' Ashtabula had a really out-of-the-Twilight-Zone area that was lined with arcades and games and rides like you'd find at an old-fashioned travelin' carnival. (Hey Greg. Ask Lacey if that stuff still there. Dad said it was a real howl.)

AHM likes the blog because he also talks about opera and composers and books--and that they both suffered through the movie Best in Show. (Had to be a Norwich Terrier--an Aussie wanna' be--didn't it? The breed de jour when they made the movie!)

Actually Greg has lots to say about other stuff, too, and has a great outline of exactly how the dog show business works and what's involved. (Scroll down.) Check it out.

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posted by Harrison at 8:47 PM

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Well, I finally bit the Dentabone® and visited the ultimate catblogger. The "catcam" doesn't lie. There they were, fe-lyings taking their ease as if our nation weren't under attack from all sides. My God--you could almost say they were Demo-cats!

"Out at the Central Contra Costa Sanitary District's Pacheco plant they've got pigeons. Pigeons for days. Pigeons on the roof, in the I-beams, in the gutters and all over the machinery.

"And where there are pigeons, there is pigeon poop. Tons of it. They know poop out at the sewage treatment plant, and everyone agrees there is way too much of the pigeon type. It streaks the equipment, pollutes the treated water and generally ruins everyone's day."

Somehow I never thought of poop being a problem at a sewage treatment plant.

"So [Chuck Batts, plant general manager] reached what might seem a logical solution -- pigeon-cide. Most of us would agree that it has a certain blunt logic. And so workers, following what is considered by animal control officers and pest control companies to be an acceptable practice, were sent with pellet rifles about six or eight months ago to thin the ranks, Batts said.

"It was not a pretty sight.

"There were dead birds falling from the sky, wounded birds flopping on the ground and blood everywhere. The workers complained."

No shit Sherlock! The mind boggles at the image of a dead pigeon or three landing on one's head.

"Still, no one wanted a daily shootout at the sewage plant. Batts says the pigeon hunters switched to "catch cages,'' which raised a whole new set of problems.

"It's pretty easy to trap pigeons. Then comes the question of what to do with them," says Bill Quarles, executive director of Biointegral Resource Center, a nonprofit pest management program. "At that point, it either gets messy or not, depending.'' Unfortunately, the sewage workers went with messy."

Well, they are sewage workers, ya' know.

"So now what?

"Some communities use hawks…Galan, a trained Harris hawk, is one of the birds that patrols New York's Central Park. Unfortunately, there have been some problems with the raptors. Last year, one of the New York hawks mistook a Chihuahua for lunch. The dog's owner, not expecting the pet to be attacked from above by a flesh-eating bird of prey--even if it was a city employee--was not happy. That's the problem, says [Bill Quarles, executive director of Biointegral Resource Center].

"You're sitting at a bench, eating your lunch and Whap!" he says. "Blood and feathers everywhere.''

"Besides, killing pigeons is no way to solve the problem. They might not be the brightest birds on the branch, but they have reproduction down to a science…

"But Quarles says the best approach is to find the pigeons' food source and eliminate it. Take away their food and water and the pigeons will move on to become someone else's problem. And they are going to be someone else's problem. For some reason, this has been a banner year for pigeons. No one knows why.

"Maybe,'' Quarles suggests, "we don't have enough cats.'' There is a pause. "That was a joke,'' he says."

A sad joke. Maybe what we really have is a bunch of fat fe-lyings lounging on recliners instead of pulling their not-inconsiderable weight.

Of course there is an upside to that--they're creating jobs for humans.

"In January, Key West officials agreed to pay Armando Parra Sr. $20 for each nuisance chicken he caught until Sept. 30. His limit was 900 birds. Parra, a barber and self-taught bird catcher, had rounded up 542 chickens, a quarter of the estimated population roaming about in the city. But, on July 23, Parra turned in his city-issued traps and said he was going freelance.

"I just thought it was a better idea if I went out on my own," he said.

Damn! Why was I never told there were jobs like that out there?

"Parra said the city issued "chicken lists" telling him which poultry to capture. He said the birds' wanderings made his job impossible. "You either catch them or you don't," Parra said. "This thing about getting designated chickens in designated areas, that's impossible."
[…]
"The fowl flap drew national attention, which may have backfired on those who wanted the birds off the streets. "They have become like a mascot. They are a symbol of Key West now," said Katha Sheehan, owner of The Chicken Store, which sells fowl-related paraphernalia."

So we have pigeon poop in San Francisco and chicken shit in Key West (not to mention the rats in Portland). You might wanna' take that information into account when you plan your next vacation jaunt.

And put those lazy fe-lyings to work already!

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posted by Harrison at 6:25 PM

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Can Augusta National Golf Club be far behind?

Since Cosmo appears to have graduated to handling the deer terrorism issue, I guess we'll have to find someone else to take care of the squirrels. I can see this problem proliferating as more golf courses spring up across the globe.

"Golfers often have to deal with the frustration of watching their golf balls swallowed up by sand traps or water hazards. But at Riverside Golf Course in Edmonton, players have another type of obstacle to watch for – squirrels.

"The furry critters regularly sprint from the bush, scoop golf balls from the green, and run off with them, particularly around the 10th and 18th holes.

As a side note, I was very glad to read the Goldberg family avoided Tennessee during their cross-country trip.

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posted by Harrison at 4:51 PM

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..make snide comments about Gracie's butt. I will not make snide comments about Gracie's butt. I will not make snide comments about Gracie's butt. I will not make snide comm---arrrrgggghhhhh! Mine's cuter than your's is. Nyah, nyah, nyah…

Sorry. Genetic programming. Meryl Yourish has been very tolerant about me pickin' on her cats and very, very supportive and encouraging. Thank you, thank you, thank you (belated, I know, but we're still dealin' with Maury around here.) Plus she's been tryin' to console poor Worf with London broil so she's okay in my book--even if she does have some trouble tellin' the difference between Yorkies [them] and Australian Terriers [us]. Worf's Alpha Human Mom is out of town. Oh, yeah, we guys can be real--ah--poodles--when it comes to our AHMs leaving us.

So I guess I'll have to go spread the wealth. (Now where's that link to the Simon guy's blog…) And that reminds me… AHM--Buy batteries for the effin' digital camera (even if it is a cheap little freebie you got in a box of Cracker Jacks) so we can return the favor.

[That all depends upon whose butt you were planning on photographing.--AHM]

[Oh, like I have a chance in hell of getting a picture of yours, huh?--H]

[If you're going to get into butt blogging, go join Wonkette.--AHM]

Okay, okay. So back to cat butts. While AHM and me were over at Meryl's site, I made AHM follow the link to The Banterist's essay on 17 photos of a cat's butt. Everyone's gotta' read this guy. We all howled. He even made Grand Dam Bitch snort into her ice water, which AHM says she hasn't done since, well, puppyhood. Don't be drinkin' or eatin' while you read. Thanks for the tip, Meryl!

Now to sniff out that Simon person…

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posted by Harrison at 1:27 PM

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Well, we had more company last weekend and of course AHM had to do yard work. Maury is a Jack Russell who visits off and on. At least he says he's a Jack Russell, but I think his dog mom messed around with a not-so-handsome stranger when no one was lookin'. Ya' gotta' feel sorry for Maury--he's got a new (human) little brother and both his parents work, so he doesn't get too much attention at home. It shows. (For all of you thinkin' about adopting a Russell, you better be home a lot. They are major high maintenance in the "I-need-attention" department.)

Anyway. I promised weeding and mulching advice this time, but AHM did some bush trimming as well, so I'll toss that in free of charge.

Notes on flowers versus weeds. To us green is green--or gray-green--okay? We don't see yellow and red and blue and white or any other "color," and a flowering weed smells pretty much the same as a flowering flower. So the sooner you humans understand our idea of "weeding" is to thoroughly flatten most everything within reach, the better off you'll be. Now the oldsters will sit on 'em indiscriminately. (Will move for food, though.) The youngsters, on the other paw, prefer a rolling attack. Hem has a particularly unique style, throwing in a few half-gainers and lots of snorting, barking commentary. My advice for any dog who wants to help his/her alpha with weeding? Don't. Or if you insist, at least make sure the water is not on with the hose nearby when you roll into the petunias.

Another thing humans might want to remember is, just because you put a dinky little decorative fence around certain parts of the yard does not mean we will stay out of those areas when a fe-lying stupidly decides to wander onto our sidewalk. If you're grubbing around in one of those places when it happens, get the hell out of the way 'cause we're comin' through.

Side note to pups: Honeysuckle is a vine. If you mistakenly throw yourself into the honeysuckle patch during a cat chase, it will take AHM five minutes with the clippers to get you out. It will take fifteen minutes if you thrash about like a beached whale.

For everyone (except me, 'cause I already know): It's mulching--with an "L"--not munching with an "N." That's very important to remember, kiddies, because AHM gets real pissed if you take a mouthful of that leafy stuff in the pots (even if they are outside) and start chewing. She's not awfully crazy about you chowin' down on the dirt either but at least that doesn't induce shrieking at ulta-sonic frequencies.

For Maury: "Mulch" is the stuff that smells like tree bark. In fact, it is tree bark. Not gum tree bark, either, so you will not be able to blow bubbles after you've chewed it for twenty-seven minutes. (We'll leave any discussion of what happens after you've swallowed it and try to poop afterwards 'til later.)

When the holly bush is being trimmed, do not get within a country mile of it. In fact, just forget that part of the garden entirely 'cause there are always leaves hidden in the ground cover and even the dead ones have the half-life of depleted uranium 238. If you do wander in by mistake, do not--I repeat DO NOT--sit down in the shade unless you have no desire to have pups of your own. (For future reference--biting AHM's hand when she's removin' those spiky leaves stuck all over your balls is not wise.)

And what would Garden Day be without some input from Little Girl? Yes, LG, crickets can jump up your nose if you disturb them. If you shove your front half under the yew bush, you will disturb them. Remove yourself from beneath said bush before leaping up to chase them.

Now admit it--you won't get this kind of practical advice from Martha Stewart.

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posted by Harrison at 1:22 PM

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What Carnival of the Dogs? I wasn't told about the Carnival of the Dogs. Geeze! Why do I have to learn about these things from that puppy blender man?

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posted by Harrison at 11:05 PM

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We've been arguing among ourselves about the dog ransom story and whether AHM would shell out $10,000 ransom for any one of us. Aside from the fact she doesn't have $10,000, the consensus vote is yes, yes, maybe, yes, yes. (Heddy's the toss up--she's such a wimp dog. Think Victorian lady with lace hankie and the vapors and you've got her. Drives AHM nuts.) 'Course AHM'd probably call the police first, and be a lot more savvy than Mr. Compton--but then she's not 80-something in human years. And she has a stun gun that she's not afraid to use. I could almost pity the ass that tried something like that.

From ABC: "Compton, meanwhile, says he does not regret shelling out $10,000 to get Sandy back. "It all depends [on] … how much you love something," he said. "

That says it all, especially for older people. One of AHM's neighbors is about Frank Compton's age and used to have a Jack Russell named Bits. Great guy, but getting' up there like his mom. Bits came to visit a lot when his mom went away so we knew him real well. She was always fussin' over him. Just during the six or so years we knew him, I'd guess she spent close to $10,000 on him what with one thing or another. He managed to tear a bunch of ligaments in a hind leg leaping off his deck to chase a fe-lying--a real hero for the cause--with a big vet bill to show for it (and no Purple Heart). Then Bits came down with cancer and, well, that's expensive for human or canine.

So even though she's not that old yet, AHM would figure out somethin' to get one of us back--including tearing the sucker's balls off with her bare hands if necessary. She couldn't stop herself. She's a rescuer person as well as an Alpha--or rather because she's an Alpha. Everyone around here knows it. (Someday I'll tell the story of The Bat that Came to Dinner.) Canines from all over the neighborhood come knockin' on our door if they're out and about when a rainstorm hits. Irritating as hell since I think if they're runnin' loose in a thunderstorm they deserve whatever they get so why do I have to be nice to a directionally challenged Westie or that gallumphing great husky mix. Talk about directionally challenged--he lives just down the street!

Ya' see, Sandy and Frank are family--just like Bits and his mom were family (and all of us, of course). More important, though, they're a pack. The Alpha always takes care of the rest of the pack--human, canine, and yeah, fe-lyin', too. Even Tony Soprano's Family ain't nothin' compared to The Pack.

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posted by Harrison at 9:12 AM

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Little Itsy Bitsy Kerry

Ya' know, a guy who let's his kids tell stories about him giving CPR to a rodent really should rethink using the phrase "little itsy bitsy." Might make a whole bunch of people think of dancing hamsters or somethin'.

Dug up at A Small Victory and created by Faithie Poo.

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posted by Harrison at 10:33 PM

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