Anyway, today I was in The Sticks and witnessed one of the many crimes against nature that are the reason I don’t get out there much:
That’s a little dawg gettin’ it on with a big dawg, who don’t even notice none, while another one has a good ole look-see at the action. All of this was happening on someone’s lawn.
Speaking of crimes against nature … while fortunately Calibre, the randy Jack Russell, is neutered and Sonic the foster border collie is about to be spayed, a union between the two were they not would produce THE SPAWN OF SATAN also known as a BORDERJACK.
*Duhn-duhn-duhn*
This is Pip, a new foster in the TDBCR program. She is about 4 months old, 12 inches high and has a set of batteries on her that never run down.
Be afraid, dear readers. Be very afraid. But first, adopt this borderjack puppy!
If psychosis:
is not your thing, don’t worry – we have another bargain for you.
One tongue for adoption (may or may not include border collie).
Sonic is a sable and white border collie (or possibly English Shepherd) who is also a newbie in our rescue program. You may know her by her Biker Gang nickname, “Howler Monkey.” If you adopt her, you get twice as much tongue as you’d get with a regular dog.
Don’t be sad that you have missed out on great deals we’ve offered in the past, like Gargoyle Dog:
Or the model that’s so popular with kids – “Snarlpuss”:
Because if you act now, we’ll give you Spawn of Satan AND Howler Monkey, as one insane package. That’s right, we’re practically giving them away! Or they are running away. Whatever.
Anyway, back to The Sticks. What can I say? I’m a city girl – I grew up on the East Side and spent the last 10 years living in downtown Vancouver, lulled to sleep at night by the sounds of traffic, bums’ shopping carts and drunk transvestites fighting with each other. Moving out here to the suburbs was quite the culture shock!
The only thing worse than friends who have children and become walking baby poo blogs are friends who move to The Sticks, and tell you stories that make you want to scratch your eyes out, like about finding spiders in their bra while unloading mountains of hay bales and the choice half of a cow they won at the local meat draw.
*vom*
And yet there is a part of me that longs for something that the city can’t give me.
That something is this:
Zomg! Meet Maeve, the newest addition to our fostering program. I picked up Maeve to drive her to her foster home on Friday night and … umm … I didn’t.
Bad Food Lady, bad!
Oh yeah, like YOU could have resisted this:
She is 8 months old, matches Piper dainty footsies for tiny pound and wiggled her way into my WANT PUPPY void. Dammit.
She is also completely hilarious.
The stinkin’ thing is, I can’t have 4 dogs in my condo. I barely squeaked in with 3, and that’s only because my landlord went to bat for me, nice man that he is. Making Maeve a permanent addition would definitely mean moving. And if I’m going to move out of my perfectly nice condo, I may as well find something with a yard for the dogs. And since I’d be feeding more mouths, I may as well try and catch a break on the rent. And since none of those things are likely to come together in one abode in the city of Vancouver, it probably means moving to the sticks.
What do you think? Is this face worth swallowing my pride?
Oh who am I kidding? I have no pride. I do, after all, live with this:
We’re dan-cin’, yeah …
Tweed said “You go right ahead and keep that puppy, Food Lady. I’m going to go home with these people” and he hopped into their van.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that those nice people were taking this home with them.
*duhn duhn duhn*
