Posts Tagged ‘puppy’

A Christmas Story (Alas, No Carols Were Involved)

December 24, 2012

I had an enjoyable time serving as a volunteer for the Christmas Store program through my church.

It began with my serving as what I termed a “poultry elf” delivering Christmas food packages to the cars of the hundreds of families who were signed up to participate in  our Christmas Store.  Without mentioning any names, it actually began with the daughter of the Christmas Store coordinator coming through the door with a family while serving as a personal shopper.

Oops.  I’d better tell you about the Christmas Store.  It is a wonderful program that seeks to provide a Merry Christmas! to families in need.  As families show up for their appointments, a family photo is taken with Santa, which is printed out and ultimately given to the family as a nice card.  This year we had The Best Santa Ever.  The man was a giant teddy bear who towered over 6’6″ and didn’t need a pillow with his Santa Suit.  This volunteer was there every single day for 12 hours a day during the four days the “store” was open and never missed a single family (again, out of HUNDREDS of families).  Little boys would stare up at this giant in sheer amazement.  The Best Santa Ever.  I had one of those “ahhhhhhh” moments when Santa got up during a short break in the action to cool down outside in his red “They don’t call it the North Pole for nothin'” suit: half a dozen children sitting in the foyer immediately sat at attention and waved and waved shouting, “Hi Santa!  Hi Santa!”  I said he’d be back: he just had to check on some reindeer.  Mind you, our Santa looked like he could have wrestled down and saddled up a polar bear and ridden IT.  Best. Santa. Ever.

After the picture, children go into rooms according to age to wait while their parents “shop” for their gifts.  The Christmas store has one “big gift” and “two small gifts” for every single child.  Last year the coordinator cried describing a miracle to the congregation because they had been OUT of gifts and suddenly nearly a dozen enormous bags of presents showed up in a locked room in which only she and the church staff had the key.  It was ALWAYS kept locked because lots of presents were in there that were yet to be brough out onto the floor and we didn’t want them stolen for the sake of the children to come.  And the coordinator knew there were no more presents because she’d gone in there minutes earlier and freaked out to find an empty room with families still coming through.  And then whammo, suddenly there were awesome presents!  Those presents got the store through the rest of that final day.  She is to this day convinced that God beamed those presents into that room.  I don’t know who – or Who – put those huge bags in there, but to me it is every bit as much a miracle that God could move someone to buy that many presents and then smuggle them into that locked room at just that right moment.  Either way, it’s always amazing to see how God works, isn’t it?

Anyway, a “personal shopper” escorts each parent, guardian or couple through the rooms that the appropriate gifts for the children’s ages are displayed.  The personal shopper gets an opportunity to talk with and pray with the parents as they go through.  After the parents pick out the gifts for their children, they go to the wrapping room to wrap the gifts while the children are waiting in classrooms with volunteers.  They aren’t just “waiting,” mind you; they get to hear about Jesus Christ.

After the gifts are wrapped so the children can’t see them, the parents pick up their children and proceed outside – where a food package is waiting for them.  Each family gets a 13 lb. turkey and a large box of canned and dry goods.

So anyway, the daughter of the Christmas Store coordinator comes out while I’m helping as a “poultry elf” and tells me that this family gets two packages because she’s signed up to go through the store (she’s a young, poor, single mother herself) and she wants this family to have her food package.

Well, that’s neat, I thought.

Anyway, I was serving for a couple of hours bringing the food to the families’ cars when I came upon one particular family.  The mother was so surprised and so delighted about the food that it lit me up.  They had five kids and she told me both sets of grandparents were going to be there.  Well, I did the math and came up with the decision to give this family another food package.  And watched momma’s face light up with joy again when I came out to their old car with it.

I interrupt my narrative to add the fact that this family was black and that the people who provided all the food were rich old white people who are clearly greedy by liberal definition.  Because greedy rich old white people on behalf of the chapel at an incredibly caucasian-populated “snowbird trailer park” common to our area had spent over $5,000 buying those turkeys.  Other rich, greedy white people had bought all those canned and dry goods for these families to have a Merry Christmas dinner regardless of their race, culture or creed.  And a whopping share of families spoke only Spanish.  Which is really quite surprising given the “fact” that rich greedy old white people hate them Mexicans so damn much.

I just wish that the liberals who so frequently slander evangelical Christians had the slightest clue about how much money and time we give to the people they slander us for hating.  I just wish that they knew that Christians in thousands of churches give billions of dollars to the needy; and that maybe they would rather be able to do that than let Obama seize their money so he can give it to political boondoggles like Solyndra.  But as hard as it is for a rich man to enter heaven, the Bible is even more clear that it is even harder for an ignorant fool to ever become anything other than an ignorant fool.

We also gave away lots of toiletries (shampoo, toothpaste, pretty much you name it, we gave it away) to help these families.  One young Hispanic family just had lost everything in an apartment fire.  We found them immeidate housing, and gave them clothes, jackets, blankets and everything we could round up to give them.  And we’re not done with that family yet, either.

But I digress.

I told the coordinator what I’d done knowing that she wouldn’t be happy with me and knowing why she wouldn’t be happy.  Those turkeys had to last for all the families.  And my “generosity” could cost another family such that they didn’t get any food at all.

Well, I thought about it.  The worst people on earth are those who are “generous with other peoples’ money.”  We call them liberals and they are the worst, the most self-righteous, the most sanctimonious people on earth as they seize money from people they demonize in order to cynically redistribute it to people who will vote for them and keep them in power.  And it didn’t take very long to occur to me that if that situation were to arise, well, I owed that family.  After all, I had given that extra food package to that family.  And if anybody needed to “pay his fair share” to take care of the family that may not have received a package because of what I did, it was me with my own money; not the “Other People’s Money” with which liberals “help.”

A figure just popped into my head with crystal clarity: $35.  That was about what each food package cost as I thought about the cost of the turkey (about a dollar a pound at Wal-Mart) and the canned and dry goods.  I made sure I had $35 cash in my billfold and decided to monitor the turkey situation and make sure I would be there for the first family to not get a turkey if that situation occurred and give them $35.  It was worth it; I’d felt led to do it and it felt like the right thing to do.

As it turned out, we had more than enough turkeys.  I was “spared” having to give money to some family I’d deprived.  And I felt further vindicated that I’d done what the Lord had led me to do.

Yea for me.

But it turns out God wasn’t done with that $35 that I now merrily thought was mine again.

You see, there was another issue that was going on at the same time.  The daughter of the coordinator was trying to give away three very cute puppies that she’d brought in her old minivan.  The son of our Santa Claus – a teenager who had ADHD – made it his mission in life to give away those puppies.  And he gave away two of them.  One of them went to a mother who had just lost her dog when it jumped out of her car.  When she heard that these puppies were a mix of the same breed of the dog she lost, she came over and ended up adopting a pup.  Her son was soon holding that dog and utterly refusing to give it up.  But the third puppy was a different story.

It clearly had an eye infection, because it’s eyes were “gooey” and rather painful looking.  And nobody wanted it because they didn’t want to get stuck with the vet bill.

Santa’s son was beside himself worrying about this puppy he’d tried to give away all night.  He had waylaid each family as they came out clutching this puppy to his chest to keep it warm.  He was afraid that nobody would help it and it would die.  He desperately wanted his dad to let him take that puppy home – but it was pretty obvious that this was one Christmas wish Santa was NOT going to grant.

I heard the daughter of the coordinator talking to some other volunteers.  She didn’t know what to do.  Even the shelters wanted to charge her to take the puppy, and she couldn’t afford to pay for a veterinarian’s office charge.

I heard a young man say that the Animal Samaritan’s charges $35 for a vet visit, not counting the cost of the medicine the pup would surely need.  Which was WAY too much for the daughter to afford.

And then I heard God say, “Ahem.”  I didn’t have to look up at the sky and point at myself with a questioning look.  I knew He was talking to me.

And I realized that God had been buttering me up just like the turkeys I was giving away with the notion that I should pay $35 for a food package for a needy family.  Because He’d known that I wouldn’t have otherwise felt very led to give money for the care of somebody else’s puppy problem.  You know, unless He sneaked it in on me.  I love animals, but I generally give my money to charities for PEOPLE.

That’s when I realized that I’d already devoted that money to the Lord, whether I’d thought so or not.  And the Lord had a use for it.

Because I didn’t WANT the Christmas store to run out of turkeys; and why was I “off the hook” to the Lord for money I had already committed to Him simply because the Lord had graciously come through and given me what I wanted?  And I realized I wasn’t giving money to help a puppy; I was giving money to help PEOPLE to help that puppy.

I suddenly blurted out that I would be willing to pay that $35 vet bill – which just somehow happened to be the exact same figure as the figure that had been repeatedly in my head regarding the cost of the food package.  And another guy immediately volunteered another $20 to help that puppy out.

Found out this morning that that sum was exactly the cost of the entire vet bill for that puppy.  And that it will be fine now.

Well, there was another little miracle in this story: that teenage boy was determined to take that puppy home because he was worried about it and wanted to make sure it was okay.  He’d come to love it because he’d held it and watched over it for a good share of the day.  When I came out (this being after the last family had been through the store) there was a rather raging argument going on between that kid and his no-longer-Santa dad.  But I was able to calm the boy down by assuring him that the puppy would get to go to the vet and somebody would surely adopt him when he was recovered from his eye infection.

It’s so often amazing how God works.  He worked for a mother and young boy who had just lost their dog by giving them an adorable puppy of the very same rather rare breed that they had lost; He worked for the coordinator’s daughter who wanted to do the right thing for that little puppy but was daunted by the cost of doing that right thing; He worked in the heart of that ADHD boy who may have been worried about that puppy as an extension of himself (if the puppy was a throwaway because of its eyes, was that boy a throwaway with his ADHD?); and He worked on me, frugality and all.  Because He brought me through a process – as He so often does – to the point where I was able to see things HIS way and then rejoice at the outcome.  I’d started out reluctantly being willing to pay for the consequences of something I’d felt led to do.  I ended up trying to think of how I’d ever spent that same amount of money that had brought me more sheer pleasure than this – and couldn’t think of a single time in my life.

There were scores of people who received Jesus through the Christmas Store, not counting those who were rededicating their lives to Christ.  Over nine hundred Bibles were given away.  God moved, whether any atheist could see it or not.  And He moved in large ways and in small ways through His people.

Merry Christmas!  Celebrate the birth of the King of kings.

Dachshund X Labrador = Dachsador!

July 29, 2012

Years back there was a car called the Chevy Vega.  It had a nice looking body, but was built with a gutless, underpowered, cheap engine.  What could have been a real nice car and even a bold step in the direction toward smaller and more fuel efficient cars that history shows that GM needed to go in was instead one of the worst cars in the history of GM.

Until the cars started ending up on the trash heap and kids started putting 350 V-8s under the hood.  What you ended up with was a subcompact car with muscle car oomph.

The same principle was carried out more professionally with the Shelby Cobra: you take a little car body and cram a 427 inch Corvette RAT engine in it and you get something special.

Heck, it works great with cars; why not try it with dogs?

There are all kinds of breeds of dogs out there, of course.  And then when you add in the fact that dogs have a way of ignoring the rules and creating their own breeds of “mutts,” well, it truly takes all kinds to make up a world.

I’m here to talk about what happens when you take a “big block Labrador” and put it into a “compact Dachshund body.”  You get this:

Aint she pretty?

I love dogs, and have always found them to be incredibly beautiful creatures to go along with the fact that they are world-class athletes.  If dogs were allowed to compete in the Olympics, they’d end up with pretty much all of the medals for pretty much all of the track and field and swimming events.

I’ve always particularly loved the big dog breeds, such as the Rottweilers that I’ve had.  There is simply nothing like watching a big dog running with the big dogs.

But this 42 lb Dachshund-Labrador mix has truly opened my eyes to the middleweight class of dogdom.  In the case of this one, she’s basically an “atomic Dachshund,” complete with webbed feet like a Lab, a weight that’s right near the middle between a 20 lb Dachshund and a 60 lb Labrador Retriever female, and legs that are about twice as long as a Dachshund’s but about 3/4s as long as a Labrador’s.

This is a dog that might have happened “by accident,” or might have been the result of “designer breeding.”  When I finally figured out what my little darling was, I discovered that “Dachsadors” are a designer breed.  You’ll have to “ask an expert” how you breed a Dachshund with a Labrador.  And if you find out, please tell me so I can finally have an answer for all the people who have asked me just that very question.

She is a high-speed, low-drag low-earth orbiting ballistic missile system when she’s in full-pursuit of a rabbit or squirrel.  And this is a dog that has now caught a jackrabbit – and believe me that aint exactly easy! – in addition to a few cottontails (it turns out neither rabbit species particularly like to be caught and literally SCREAM until I make her put them down).  She’s got a combination of speed and agility that has to be seen to be believed.  I call it torque; she’s got those powerful leg muscles and that short running stroke to get going fast REAL quick.  It is not unusual at all to see her run with both sets of legs parallel to the ground at the same time.  It’s almost like she’s flying, and all she needs is a little superdog cape:

She’s a very athletic thing that loves to jump as much as she loves to just plain flat-out haul ass:

I often just find myself simply admiring her exquisite musculature and shape:

I find her to be a beautifully muscled and beautifully proportioned dog.  I love watching her trot along so easily and gracefully with her beautiful wheaton coat gliding over her ribs and muscles:

And of course she has been since the day we brought her home as a little puppy:

She’s just been a tremendous little dog, and I love her dearly.

A few extra details about her:

She is without question the most joyful dog I have ever been around.  She will wag her tail if you just LOOK at her.  She loves to play and can keep herself quite entertained by throwing one of her toys into the air and catching it.  And frequently she’ll just get a little bee in her bonnet and start racing through the house at top speed with a happy-to-be-alive gleam in her eyes.  She’s got a few different courses to race on.  And the more I laugh the more she runs.  When I adopted her, she was a nearly 10 week-old puppy in a glass cage at a shelter, and had been in the cage for close to 2 weeks.  When she was introduced to her back yard she ran like a happy little fool and just never really got over her love of running.

She is also the most remarkable dog I’ve ever seen in remembering where things were and any kind of change.  If anything in the house gets moved for any reason, she KNOWS about it and zeroes right in on it.  If she’s out in the desert and something new got blown or placed or built or dumped anywhere near her domain, she is instantly aware of it.

And she likes to watch TV more than any dog I’ve ever heard of – especially if there are animals on.  I’ve had on the Westminster dog show and she has watched enraptured for a good half hour straight.  When one of her “shows” comes on in the form of a commercial, she recognizes it by the music jingle and looks up on cue just when the dogs appear.  She will wag her tail at certain times, perk her ears at certain moments, etc.  She loves to watch horses, but is quite interested in just about anything that has just about any kind of animal.

When I got her and figured out what she was (the shelter labeled her as “a red and white hound mix”), I discovered that people were intentionally breeding these “Dachsadors.”  You can easily understand why when you think about it.  Labradors are and have been THE most popular breed of dog by AKC registration because of their many fine qualities.  Dachshunds have been slipping, going from as high as the fourth most registered breed of dog in 2004 to the sixth most in 2006, to the eighth most in 2010 and the ninth most last year.  But obviously a lot of people see a lot of positive traits in both breeds of dog.

So why not put them together?  What you end up with is a medium-sized dog of excellent temperament and intelligence.  And if you really want a Labrador Retriever but can’t have a dog that large, well, why not shrink it down?

The people who know dogs that look at my little darling see a Labrador face from the front and a Dachshund face from the side.  And I always enjoy being around dog lovers who will come over and tell me they’ve never seen anything like her, and how beautiful she is and what a great shape she has.

I’m glad she’s female because while my Rottweilers were “macho dogs,” this one is definitely “daddy’s little girl.”

P.S. I mentioned that I’m a Rottweiler lover.  It’s amazing how different dogs can be and how wonderful they are at being the incredible things they were bred to be.  My last Rottweiler was HUGE by Rottweiler standards – standing nearly 32″ at the shoulder (in the realm of Great Dane height!), weighing in at nearly 200 lbs, and standing about 6’6″ on his hind legs (I’m 6’2″ and he could jump up with his front paws over my shoulder and look me right in the eye – and he was leaning at an angle).  He was the product of very large parents which led to a 3-puppy litter that allowed him to get as big as the genes from already large parents would allow him to get.  He was incredibly smart and impossibly strong.  That dog could easily knock a big, strong man down and that man wouldn’t get up unless and until that Rott wanted to let him get up.  Before him, we had two brothers who were what we called “muttweilers” being the result of a purebred female and the neighbor’s 3/4 Rott-1/4 German Shepherd who jumped the fence.  I used to go backpacking in the Willamette National Forest and reuglarly went on 3 day outings.  I would hike from 10-15 miles a day, depending on the leg, while the dogs chased each other off the leash.  I kid you not, those dogs would run at least 150 miles a day each of the three days.  No human being who ever lived could have begun to do what those dogs did EASILY.  One year I took one of them to visit my parents and my father and I went hiking.  That dog loved to walk ahead, but he didn’t know which way we would go at one point where the trail split.  And when my dad took the uphill path, the only way the dog could get ahead of him was to jump up a rocky outcropping that we figured was easily 8′ high.  That Rottweiler mix took one step back and MADE that jump; at the very top he had to pull himself up with his front legs with an effort my dad found as amazing as the jump itself.

Dogs are just amazing, aren’t they?  And the only thing they do better than their many amazing feats of speed, agility, leaping, strength, endurance, etc., etc., is be the best companions in the world.

Hope you enjoyed my show-and-tell about my dog!

Warning! A Few Things You Should Know Before Getting A Puppy From A Shelter

July 10, 2010

I’ve bought three dogs in my life prior to the one I recently brought home from a shelter – and all three came from backyard breeders.

The first two were Rottweiler/German Shepherd mix brothers (from the same litter) that were sired by the 3/4 Rott 1/4 German Shepherd dog from next door who beat the purebred Rott to the party.  The third was a purebread Rott.

The two mixes were as healthy as could be.  The purebread Rott had an umbilical hernia – for which the breeder took full financial responsibility.

No other health issues.

The two brothers were housetrained in five days.  The purebred Rott was housetrained in a long (albeit very long!!!) July 4th weekend.

Furthermore, I had a pretty good idea what I was getting when I got my backyard-bred pups.  I was able to see both parents (although in the case of the two mix brothers, I had to look over the fence to see the daddy).

And they were healthy.  The two Rott/Shepherd mixes used to go with me on three-day backpacking trips in the Willamette National Forest.  I would hike 12-14 miles a day, while the dogs chased each other through the trees.  They would EASILY run over 300 miles in those three days.  That’s healthy.

Now let me compare that to my little shelter baby.

First of all, you don’t get a whole lot of an idea what kind of a dog you’re getting, what breed it is, or how big it will likely be, if you get a puppy from a city/county shelter.  That may not matter to you.  But if it does, be aware.

In my own case, I got a “hound mix” puppy.  What’s a hound mix?  There are 23 breeds under the category “hound.”  Moreover, the card said she was 2 months old.  But what does that mean?  If the puppy is 7 weeks old, how do they classify it?  What if it’s 11 weeks old?  There’s very little information to go on, and the employees’ knowledge tends to pretty much conform to the card.  If you’re looking for a anything specific, good luck at the shelter.

It turns out my “hound mix” was a part Dachshund, part Labrador puppy.  A Dachsador.  She’s very cute, but I wouldn’t have picked her if I’d known she was part Dachshund.  Without meaning to disparage Dachshunds, I was looking for a bigger, more athletic, and hopefully less stubborn, dog than a Dachshund.

That said, she IS real cute.

Here’s some pictures of my little Dachsador darling:

She’s a cute little Dachsador, isn’t she?  She’s got webbed feet, like a lab, but her legs shorter than a Lab’s, while her body is longer.  At this point, she’s got a nice, athletic, low-center of gravity without being overly “Dachshundy.”  I hope she stays that way.

Even though she wasn’t what I’d set out to adopt, I loved her right away, and wasn’t about to take her back once I found out about the “weiner dog” part.

Well, read on.

The next thing I discovered was that, having lived in a cage for a good two weeks, in which this little piddle-and-poop machine was allowed out maybe twice a day if she was lucky, she was MUCH MUCH harder to housetrain than a non-shelter puppy from a backyard ever was.

If you get a puppy from a shelter, just realize that the staff have literally trained it to be at home laying around its own waste.  You will have a much more difficult time housebreaking your cute little shelter rescue.

But that isn’t the end of it, either.

In my case, I went to the Coachella Valley Animal Campus and bought myself a disease machine, as well.

The Coachella Valley Shelter has a seven day policy during which they will take some degree of responsibility for an animal’s medical condition.  After that, they will impolitely tell you, you are entirely on your own.

In the seven days you have, there is no possible way to find out that your puppy doesn’t have a potentially serious issue.  You rolls the dice and takes your chances.

First it was bordatella, aka kennel cough.  I noticed my puppy was coughing/wretching in a nasty way.  I didn’t know what it was.  Did I tell you that I’ve always obtained my puppies from backyard breeders, and that I’d never had any problems?

That wasn’t good.  But I got ten days’ worth of antibiotics, and it seemed to take care of the problem.

But read on.

Next I began to discover that my little girl had little patches of hair loss.  At first I thought it was from fleas and scratching, so I waited until after she’d had her stitches out from her spaying and gave her a flea bath.

To no avail.

I took her to the Animal Samaritan Hospital for her third multi- shot, and asked to see a vet to diagnose her.  They didn’t have any available vets, as it was “spay and neuter” day, so I got an appointment.

Then I took her next door to the Coachella Valley Animal Campus, hoping to get her seen by a veterinarian there, and was basically treated like slime for suggesting that – given the fact that the puppy they sold me had two serious diseases – they should maybe help me deal with the problem.

Did I tell you about that backyard breeder who took total responsibility of the puppies she sold?

I insisted that it was only right that a vet at least look at her, and the senior vet tech came out, and, without bothering to look at the puppy, started telling me off.  I asked her if it bothered her that she was selling diseased puppies that would literally make a lot of puppy mills look good by comparison?  She indignantly said that the puppy was NOT diseased.

REALLY, MISSES MEDICAL EXPERT?

  • ‘Kennel Cough’ is the term that was commonly applied to the most prevalent upper respiratory problem in dogs in the United States. Recently, the condition has become known as tracheobronchitis, canine infectious tracheobronchitis, Bordetellosis, or Bordetella. It is highly contagious in dogs. The disease is found worldwide and will infect a very high percentage of dogs in their lifetime.
  • Demodicosis, also known as red mange or “demodex”, is a common skin disease of dogs

Here’s a picture of what this “non-disease” can do to a dog:

Then the “senior vet tech” added insult to stupid.  She personally villified me, loudly telling me that I had been nasty since the very first day I had come in, and that she wasn’t going to deal with me any more.

The problem was that 1) I’d never seen this woman before, nor she me, so how could she know how I had acted?  And 2) I have been in that facility a total of four previous times (to pick out a pup, to take the pup home, to get the border kennel antibiotics, to have her stitches out), with either a friend or family member with me each time.  I had never been anything other than pleasant.  I’d never felt that I had any reason to be unpleasant prior to this moment.

The vet tech was trying to demagogue me, turn me into an “angry man” who had no credibility, so that others wouldn’t take what I was saying seriously.

I walked out.  I’ll never darken the door to that shelter again.

The funny thing was I went looking for a mixed breed at the county shelter because I had decided that “mixed breeds” were healthier.  But not from a government animal shelter, they aren’t.

Here’s the bottom line: think twice before you get a dog from a shelter, especially if it’s a puppy.  People love the “politically-correct” aspect of an animal shelter, and how they “rescued” a dog or cat.

If you’re about rescuing a dog or cat, and don’t care how much it will cost you in vet bills, how much suffering your pet may have to endure due to diseases, or how much destruction will likely happen to your carpet before you finally have housetraining under control, then by all means, get your dog from a shelter.  Just do it with your eyes wide open.

Don’t think I’m mocking people who do the above.  I am familiar with people who actually deliberately seek out dogs with serious health issues.  They love dogs, and are willing to go to the wall for animals no one else would want.

On the other hand, if you just want a good, healthy pet, with the least amount of potential horror story to await you, then start looking around the backyards.

Animal shelters are trying to do the right thing.  I wouldn’t argue that.  But you should read Andersonville, just as one example, so you can see that good intentions can literally pave the road to hell.  In the case of Andersonville (or the Union equivalent at Elmira, New York), there were too many inmates and too few resources.  And horror resulted.

At some point, even people who want to do the right thing become part of the disease and horror that they take part in.  This vet tech refused to look at that; so she lashed out at me as “the enemy” instead.  Even though all I wanted was a little help taking care of an animal who had had two serious diseases inflicted on her as a result of the shelter’s kennels.

When I was in the outer kennels of the Coachella Valley Animal Campus, I saw that a good 2/3rds of the dogs were lying in their own feces, their own urine, or in too many cases, both.  There are WAY too many dogs there for the staff to even begin to adequately take care of.

I should have known then what I might be getting myself into.

The Campus is a beautiful facility.  But somebody spent all the money on the appearance of the facility, rather than budgeting for the cost of actually caring for the animals.

This mange might clear up, but from what I’m told, there is a very real possibility that it will be a long-term, very persistent, very expensive condition.

I just wanted a good, healthy dog.

I could take this puppy back to the shelter and say, “YOU deal with her.”  It would satisfy my sense of poetic justice – particularly if I was able to hand her to that vile vet tech.  But that’s just not the way I roll.  I took responsibility for this animal, even if I got screwed by a dirty, disease-ridden, bureaucratic-ridden den of incompetence.

Say what you want about how anti-pc I am, but I will NEVER get a dog from an animal shelter again.  And I strongly advise you that caveat emptor applies more at your government animal shelter than it does your used car lot.

Obama Promises Girls A Puppy, Brings Home Rabid Dog Rahm Emanuel

November 7, 2008

Barack Obama promised his girls – with all the warmth and sincerity of that glitzy media fanfare could produce – to get his girls a puppy.

And then he went and brought home a vicious, rabid dog named Rahm Emanuel.

I hope Obama’s girls have all their shots.

A Time article on Emanuel summed it up rather well:

When Barack Obama asked Sen. Rahm Emanuel to be his White House chief-of-staff, few political insiders were surprised. The Chicago congressman and chairman of the House Democratic Caucus has been described in the past as a profane, hyperactive attack dog — and it is just this sort of steamrolling personality that makes him such a valuable asset. There are few people in Washington D.C. who could make for such a formidable gatekeeper to the Oval Office.

He’s even got a “hyperactive attack dog’s” nickname:

Emanuel’s nickname is “Rahmbo,” and he is known for mowing down his opponents. Coming out of Chicago, both he and Obama know the value of muscle.

Now, me, I wish that Obama had picked up some snarling, frothing-at-the-mouth Rottweiler chained up in some crack dealer’s front yard for the girls’ “puppy,” and picked a reasonably decent and human chief-of-staff instead.

Obama promises a whole new, wonderful world where everybody loves each other.  And then he goes and gets himself the most rabid, vicious, frothing at the mouth attack dog he can find:

And Emanuel’s partisanship—after winning back the House in 2006, he recommended that Republicans “go f*** themselves“—could undercut Obama’s promises to reach across the aisle.

COULD? Did they say ‘Could’?

Yeah. The way dressing his entire cabinet in Nazi SS uniforms COULD undercut Obama’s promises of an “unshakable commitment” to Israel.

Barack Obama will say whatever he has to say to get elected.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a little white lie, or a great big gigantic lie.  He knows the media won’t hold him responsible for anything he says.

I’m sure that Barack Obama will keep his promise to his girls and get them some really nice puppy.  As for his promise to be a “new politician” epitomizing “hope” and “change” that he made to the other 300 million Americans – well, we can quote Emanuel’s famous line to them.

Sooner or later, the public will come to realize they bought a bunch of bogus promises.