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Monthly Archives: November 2020
Once upon a time, in a land not so far away at all, lived a little tank of a blue brindle bulldog, who was very, very loved. In a land pretty far away, as far as dog travel is concerned anyway, roamed another dog, who was not loved at all, by anyone. Now this story has equally sad and delightful parts, so consider yourself warned if you read on. But, I will tell you: like all fairy tales, you get a happy ending. And so the summer went by, hot and sticky. The brindle bulldog was very, very sick but the Princess was taking very good care of him during this time. She would feed him half her meals and they would go through drive thrus and get him his very own roast beef sandwich and cups full of ice cream or whipped cream, depending on where they were. The brindle bulldog was very happy, but getting weaker day by day. He loved to go on trips and would lay peacefully in the backseat until they got to their destination. One time they were in the car for a very long time and every time they stopped and got out it was further from home and there were all new smells and sights. Even the trees looked different. And then…after traveling all day, they reached the ocean. And it was the best thing the little tank of a blue brindle bulldog had ever seen. He was beside himself…
Day 8: I fell off the couch this morning. It was an embarrassment and a surprise. But no matter what happens, it won’t be as bad as The Soaking yesterday. Princess Sparkleshoes says life is full of ups and downs and I’ll do good to remember that. She’s just mad because hairs keep mysteriously showing up in the tub and she’s cleaned it twice already. I told her if she hadn’t stressed me out I wouldn’t have shed so much. She said I should have cooperated better. I started to tell her something else but then I heard a little bee tell me to never argue with a redhead, especially the one who feeds you and allows you to ride in the rocket. So I yawned and licked her hand. Chester’s Diary, Day 8 and a half Popcorn is an acquired taste. I haven’t acquired that taste. It’s not natural. I would rather just play with them but Princess Glitter Pants gags when she has to pick the slimy bits up off the carpet. I do think the chickens next door would fit my discriminating palate. And I promise not to leave any slimy bits anywhere. #scoutshonor Chester’s Diary, Day 9Whoever this Lightning Bug character is, he must have really been something special. Princess Glitterpants still cries over him sometimes.She also says I could have learned a lot from…
I guess if I’m gonna tell this, I need to pick up with where I left off. So I got all Chester’s (at that time still Andre the Giant’s) paperwork signed and paid his bail, and we busted out of that joint, everybody all smiles but none bigger than Chester’s. I decided to take the interstate home because those curvy roads might make him sick. He was pretty excited and paced some, looking at all the things that he’d never seen before. He acted like it was the most natural thing in the world to be riding 75 mph with someone he’d never before laid eyes on. I guess that’s a good thing. Ever so often he’d stick his head through the gap between my headrest and window and lay his muzzle on my shoulder. It was the sweetest thing. And if he could catch my elbow far enough back on the armrest, he’d put his head on top of it. He eventually circled and curled up to sleep. Bless his little bones. If I had been him, I wouldn’t have been nearly so accepting of this fate. I guess he knew my intentions and that everything was going to be okay. I kept thinking about what the director told me: picked up as a stray in June, and had been at the shelter ever since.Once he settled down…
I can’t tell you about LB dying, not yet. Let’s just say it effectively broke my heart. I didn’t realize how much I depended on him for companionship and entertainment. And pure, uncomplicated love. Ok, that little bit already has me crying so let’s move on. After a few weeks of people gently (and not so gently) pushing me to get another dog, I started half-heartedly searching. Because the fact of the matter was, I was miserable. And I hate to throw away leftovers. It was either going to be a dog or a pig. And places aren’t as friendly about letting a pig in as they are a dog. I looked on Young Williams page. They’re not far, and they’re well-known for having dogs that are staring hard at the end of the line. I wanted a male pit bull, anywhere from 2-5. He had to be house trained. I didn’t care if he got along with kids or other pets, because I don’t share my space with anybody. He could be an unlucky dog, fixing to change his luck. I really wanted to just walk up to the counter of a shelter and say, “Hi. I’m the answer to your prayers.” But that would be arrogant, so I tried to be cool when I messaged about one of their dogs, a pit mix…
