Heart Like a Dog

The Good, the Bad, and the Oh My God of living with dogs!

Let It Rain….Day Two Hundred, Thirty Seven

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We got a break from the heat today; it came in the form of rain.

After nearly a week of not walking, I was amped up and ready to go, as were Sampson and Delilah.

We weren’t going to let a little rain stop us, so we piled into the car.

As soon as we got to the park it began raining in earnest.  We went anyway.

Sampson and Delilah were so happy to be out of the house and running through the woods again.  I tried desperately to get some pictures but due to the rain, they are rather dark.

We were only out for about 25 minutes; I had to cut it short because the bug spray (from countless applications) was running off my hat into my eyes, so I ended up taking my hat and glasses off.  Thankfully it wasn’t so dark that I couldn’t see. 🙂

As soon as we stepped out of the park near the car, the rain let up.  It stopped about 45 minutes after we got home. 🙁

Here is a picture of me when we got home.

Chet said, “There’s a glare on it.”  But once we looked closer we realized that was where my fanny pack sat (for treats, cell phone and poop bags.)

Literally the only dry spot on my person.

The dogs didn’t fare much better, but we were all happier for the much-needed exercise.

Wet but happy.

The Legacy Of Michael Vick….Day Two Hundred Thirty Two

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I have a figure of an African-American man hanging from the window in my sports memorabilia area.  He is not hanging there because of his race.   No he is hanging there for what he did.  Yes, the hanging piece of human filth is Michael Vick replicated in the form of a chew toy.

Michael Vick, star quarterback for the Atlanta Falcons, arrested and jailed for running an illegal dog fighting ring.

I try really hard in my life not to be judgmental, to try to see things from the other person’s perspective.  I don’t have insight into the experiences that made them who and what they are.

When the Vick scandal broke I tried to see it from a different perspective.  Michael Vick grew up in Newport News, Virgina in the projects.  He was exposed to dog fighting at an early age.  I can buy that, but once you become an adult you need to own your own.

Once I had rectified this in my mind I, like millions of others was outraged.  I heard someone made a dog chew toy so I ordered two.  There was such an overwhelming response; that it took over eight months to receive  my toys.

I promptly gave one to Delilah who enthusiastically chewed off his feet and made some nice bite marks in his head.  Delilah who but for a twist of fate, may very well have wound up as a bait dog for a dog fighting ring.

Once I took it away, from Delilah,  I tied a piece of string around his neck and hung him.  Just what that bastard deserved, I thought.

Well we all know what happened to Michael Vick, he did 21 months in prison, was fired by the Falcons, filed for bankruptcy, came out of prison and signed with the Philadelphia Eagles.

I couldn’t forgive him.

Anytime anyone played the Eagles I screamed, “Sack that piece of scum.”

“Hurt him, pick him up and slam him to the ground.”

Even the New York Giants whom I totally can’t stand were encouraged, “Sack, sack the quarterback.”

And I ranted to Chet, “I can’t believe he’s starting for the Eagles.”  “I don’t want him to do well.” “I want him to pay.”

“How much more do you want him to pay?”  Chet asked.

“I don’t know, I just hate that he comes out of jail and goes right back to playing football, making millions of dollars and it seems so effortless to him.”

I bring this up today because when I signed onto the internet this morning I found out that Michael Vick is lobbying Congress for anti-dog fighting laws.  Specifically laws which make bringing a child to an animal fight against the law.

Michael, you have my attention.

“”The law would impose penalties of up to a year in prison and fines for attending an animal fight, and a penalty of up to three years in prison and fines for bringing or allowing a minor to attend.”

The Humane Society has partnered with Vick ( Yes The Humane Society!)  Although they say they did a lot of soul searching as to whether they could actually work with him.

Then it struck me, if Attila the Hun rose up from his grave and asked me to team up with him to stop these barbaric events, I sure as heck would partner with him.  If I could save one dog from fighting or being used as bait, if I could prevent one child from continuing and contributing to the barbarity of this “sport” yeah, I’d be cozying right up to ole Attila.

Ultimately I believe we all answer to a higher power and if God could forgive Michael Vick, then why can’t I?  The fact that he is trying to make amends is commendable.

Am I saying that I like Michael Vick?

I don’t think so.

Am I saying I would sit down and chat with Michael Vick?

Maybe.

Am I saying I can forgive Michael Vick?

I’m not really sure it’s my place to offer forgiveness, but I am willing to give him a chance and see what transpires from this venture.

What I am saying is this, maybe just maybe Michael Vick’s real legacy will be not what he has done, but what he has yet to do.

What Is That?…Day Two Hundred, Twenty Three

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I can’t figure Delilah out.  Most days she’s a pretty good girl, I mean yes she has her moments like licking the cabinets and floor and always being under your feet when you are preparing food.  She can go for long periods of time without getting into trouble.  And then one day….

While you are in your bathroom applying make-up for work, you hear it.  Smack, Smack, SMACK.  You venture out of the bathroom to find Delilah lying on her bed chewing the heck out of something.  It’s dark in the bedroom and you don’t have your glasses on, but you know she has something.

“Drop it!” you shout.  Delilah drops it.

You pick it up but you can’t see what it is, you say, “What the hell is that?”

It feels kind of hard, so you carry it out into the kitchen where there is more light and take a closer look.


Yes, it’s the stem of the banana, all that remains.

Naturally it wasn’t the only casualty that day.

What’s left of a candy wrapper and a napkin.

A crushed coolatta cup, left by the hubby in the sink.

You never know when the mood will strike.  Or what she will find.

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