Ouch

Lambchop has gone off to Poodle Rescue and I am so sad. Could she have been trained not to lunge at children? Should I have waited it out longer? But if she had bitten someone it would have been curtains. Of course there is no easy answer. It's just sad. And I miss her. I had grown accustomed to her following me every where I went, greeting me at the door, taking her for a walk.

Geez.

I had not anticipated such a heavy heart and suspect it's tickled the scars of other losses, all the recent lettings go. And having a dog felt like home.

I tell myself there will be another dog some day, but not before Bets can be left alone in the house. Single parenting with a child who cannot be alone for 10 minutes while you walk the dog is too difficult and rescue dogs really just can't be trusted 100% with small children.

Meanwhile I distract myself of course, and today's topic are gun-owners who suddenly are all over the media saying they want to expose their guns, wear them so the whole world can see. Well I cannot be alone in my opinion that gun in this context (in almost all contexts) equals penis. Try this, below is a letter to the editor of the Boston Globe about exposed guns. Read and substitute the word penis for gun.

IT'S TIME for gun (penis) owners to come out of the closet ("In public, weapon owners no longer gun-shy," June 9). Many of us own guns (penises) to protect ourselves and those around us from criminals. Yet too many of us hide this fact by carrying handguns (penises) concealed. Open carry is a growing movement across the country among gun (penises) owners who choose to carry openly, both as a deterrent to crime and to educate people in their communities. In Manchester, N.H., most open-carry activists live in Ward 5, near where Officer Michael Briggs was killed in October 2006. These are people who, by carrying their firearms (penises) in plain sight, make the statement that they are willing to risk their lives to ensure that violent criminals will not kill a police officer or anyone else. People who choose to carry their firearms (penises) openly deserve our thanks, and those gun (penis) owners among us who still carry concealed, or do not carry, should consider carrying openly.

Still I'm sad.

Cross your fingers Lambchop has a future ahead full of love and good treatment. Cross your fingers gun (penis) toters will keep it in their pants.

Doggone It

Now where'd she go? Life has been a mix of poodle-mix and work and child and sweltering heat and springtime rain and here we are in June already. Where'd May go?

I told you so. I told you so. I told you so.

Feel free.

Life with a dog is super wicked hard and this dog in particular has a problem. She doesn't like small children. So now I have a problem and it's wrapped in blonde fur with brown eye bows and a cotton tail. Lambchop has bonded to me in a way that belies the past abuse it's pretty clear she's suffered. I am her savior. I could take food out of her mouth. I could share her favorite bone. I could wipe her tushy with a paper towel, and have had to. She only looks at me with her poodle-mix eyes and waits through the indignity. But small children scare her and bring out some inner wild beast. She barks and lunges for them teeth flaring.

This means Bets and our seven and three year old upstairs neighbors are enemies, threats and this of course also means Lambchop has to go, which breaks my heart. I am determined to find her a new home rather than put her in a shelter. In the meantime she lives in a crate in the dining room when Bets is about. When Bets is out, Lambchop can roam free. This weekend Betsy and Faith are in Chicago. Lambchop happily lies at my feet and gives me kisses, takes walks on the leash, wags her little cotton tail.

If Lambchop is free of her intestinal parasite she can be fostered by Poodle Rescue. They have made a space for her. Thank you Poodle Rescue, thank you. I just have to take a doody in tomorrow to be checked. If we're coccidia free, Lambchop leaves. Talk about bittersweet. Talk about heartwrenching.

I tell myself I fostered a dog, saved her from fleas and the kill shelters of the south. I tell myself I did a good thing. But such a month it's been. And this poor little abused dog. Why do people abuse dogs? Why do they abuse other people? Why are some folks so gosh darn f--

But none of this compares with Lucy who had a coyote in her house today! After hearing a plaintiff howling from her porch, the kind of howling that causes you to look deep inside your soul and contemplate life and death, Lucy stepped outside to find a funny looking dog howling and eyeballing her kitty. The odd dog left the porch when Lucy went out but then the kitty - in an act of incredibly poor judgment - went after the funny looking dog and a big old fur-flying brawl ensued. Lucy - it must have been judgment free Sunday - jumped in to rescue the kitty, and managed to scoop the cat into her arms. But as she opened the door to her house the funny-looking dog forced its way in where he or she freaked as if never having been inside before. The cat took off, Lucy tried to nudge the dog (no collar, no social sense) out the door. Somehow it left. Lucy at first assumed it was her neighbor's ill-mannered dog come a calling until that same neighbor said no her dog is small and by the way she thought saw a coyote on the block today.

All this in the city of Boston, within city limits. It's like rural America or 1864.

There's a great article on parenting in today's NYT Sunday Magazine.

It's GLBT pride month.

Betsy has graduated kindergarten and is officially a first-grader.

I'm about to be dog-free again and doggone it I'm relieved.

Lucy has been advised not to let any more coyotes into her house.

I'd say it's time to move to Manhattan.