Kobe, My Brother (a Memorial)

Kobe James Burton Lare, aged 11 years, lost a brave battle against heart disease on September 13, 2016. Kobe was born in 2004 in the town of Racine, WI and at birth was named Cubbie. Although there are no surviving pictures, the little pup had to be cute as a bug’s ear! He was born with a club foot and was not able to walk on four legs. But his birth family had a vet perform surgery that allowed him to use his foot and walk with a little hop.

Kobe Relaxing on Coach

His early years were marked by chaos in a crowded household of 18 whippets. He lived with his littermates, parents, grandparents and cousins. After their owners died, all 18 were taken in by the national breed rescue group WRAP (Whippet Rescue & Placement).  Among the youngest were Cubbie and his sister, Precious.

The two were adopted by parents Kriss and Mary in Ypsilanti, Michigan and were thrilled beyond belief to be reunited. Cubbie was renamed “Kobe” after their dear friend. He and his sister, now renamed “Barcelona” started a new life in a two-dog household.

Kobe quickly discovered a new reality - it is not OK to pee in the corner! Of course he didn’t let such concepts stop him. He had to adjust to annoying new rules, staying in a crate at times and having to visit the vet. However he also experienced soft beds, chewies, warm coats, romping in the large back yard and lots of attention and unconditional love.

Kobe’s many hobbies included barking at dogs passing the front window, counter surfing and stealing all his sister’s boney bone bones. His enthusiastic forays into plastic containers and bags yielded many wonderful and unexpected rewards, such as ground coffee and thistle seed.  The latter ended in the famous “thistle turd” story.

Kobe was unsurpassed at scavenging. His highest achievements included moving an entire glass cake pan from counter to floor without breakage (and removing the cake). Honorable mentions go to sampling hot pans on the stove, unwrapping Christmas gifts and tearing into the Halloween candy.

Kobe with Halloween Candy

Although he tested the human’s patience again and again, his loving personality and his wish to remain, like the Carpenter’s song, always “Close to You”, endeared them to this creative and sweet whippet.

He was preceded in death by his adoptive mother and father, several litter mates and many aunts of uncles. He always had a kind nuzzle for every human he met. 

Kobe shared his entire life with surviving sister Barcie, who misses his terribly. His human parents will never, ever forget this lovable boy who never failed to exasperate and delight them both. 

With sister Barcie, (left)

He will also be remembered by neighbor whippets Deuce and Tallie. His owner’s friends and family always enjoyed the “Kobe stories” while each privately resolved never, ever to adopt a whippet.

Kobe Posing as Orphan

Kobe’s family would like to thank his expert veterinary team, including All Creatures Animal Clinic and Dr. DeSana. Kobe was cremated in a private ceremony. His favorite possession, - a food bowl, along with his ashes and collar are now enshrined in the family home.  

And Kobe, wherever you are, I hope there is lots of food!

The Big Nuptials

We found out that our parents are getting married. Once I learned about the nuptials it started me doing thinking about cute outfits and how Kobe and I could participate in the wedding! You know, little “His & Hers” outfits, me in an elegant gown, Kobe in a tux or a smart herringbone suit with a snappy tie.

We could even carry the rings although I realize Bro is not too trustworthy and might do lose the rings and do something untoward with the jewelry.

So, the big day of Dec 31^st arrives. No outfits have been tried on, modeled or purchased. No wedding rehearsals, nada. Where are the bridesmaid, the favors, the rehearsal dinner and all that. Is it still ON, we wonder?

Although booze, appetizers, horns and hooters had been purchased this was definitely a seat of the pants . The humans made a surprise announcement at a New Year’s Eve party that they were getting hitched. No one was told ahead of time, no family invited. Of course we whippets knew!

After all that, we were delegated to STAY IN THE CRATE – like, well, (huff, snort) like ANIMALS!

Whew, that is making my blood pressure rise just thinking about it. I’m trying hard not to take this personally, no it wasn’t about us as dogs I guess. Kobe would definitely have had his snout in the appetizers.

We did get into the pictures (enclosed) and the video; I guess that will have to do.

That’s all for now.

Toodles,

Barcelona

Days of Canine Yesteryear: the Life Of a Whippet In the old days

Kobe and I were stuck inside on a rainy day and my mind started to wander. I began to ponder the life of dogs during the “olden days.”

No, I’m not talking about 1995; but back when some of the first whippets lived in England. Did you know that whippets were bred by mixing greyhounds and terriers?

So I said to myself, “Barcie girl, enough of this pampered, coat-wearing, toy squeaking, kibble-crunching life. What would it be like if I lived like my ancestors did?”

Back then whippets were known as the “Poor man’s racehorse”.  And why? Because whippets could compete in races for the “purse” or catch game to help feed the family. And we needed less grub than our larger relative, the greyhound.

A whippet could earn more in a single race than their owner working in the mines. That’s why we were treasured family members.

So, I would have been a working dog; a contributing part of the family. Even If I didn’t race I could go running after a wild rabbit and bring in food for the table.

English Miners racing their Whippets. 

Ouch, this picture makes my ears hurt!

The master would dress and cook the rabbit in the stew pot or roast it over a spit. After the family ate, they’d throw a few scraps to the side for me. I’d sprawl on the bare earth next to the hearth. The fireplace was the only source of heat in our humble little hovel. Ah, a simple and genuine life.

Life was so much shorter and harsher. There was no pampering. Dogs had to earn their living. We weren’t just pets! And my skills in running fast and pursuing prey would have been necessary and truly appreciated; in fact my purpose in life!

Finally I began to realize that for all its nostalgic appeal the past had a few flaws. Even people had hard lives, especially if they were poor. Dogs most likely didn’t fare much better.

So, while canine history has given me a very pleasant daydream, I don’t know about the reality. Hardships like scratching fleas, going hungry and sleeping on the cold ground just doesn’t sound like fun. And working all the time?

Being a dog in the 21^st century beats living during any other era. Why would I want to give up my soft little bed, fleece coat and central heating? In fact, right now I’m jumping onto the sofa and laying my head right on the upholstery. I want to honor my ancestor’s experiences – even if I don’t want to imitate them.

Please note:

Much of what I actually learned about the history of dogs came from these sites:  “Sniffing out the Past (https://sniffingthepast.wordpress.com/2011/07/19/hello-world/.)

http://www.mascotarios.org/en/whippet/ (history of whippet)

This Dog's View of Mother's Day

 

A letter to my (human) mother:

Dear Mom, I know that you are trying to avoid Mother’s Day. I understand, since your own mother died barely six months ago. I am putting paws to keyboard in the hopes that I can help you feel just a little less gloomy. 

Since you are our mother, Kobe and I would love to put on little aprons and make breakfast for you and Dad. Can you see Kobe cracking the eggs and frying bacon while I whomp up a delicious omelet? But, as dogs we can’t hold cooking implements, or shop for groceries, much less follow a recipe.

I don’t even know if our dear mother (Hattie Mae or Mattie Mae or whatever the heck they called her) is still alive. We got to spend the first 5 years of our lives with the extended family back in Wisconsin. Brother Kobe and I only had a few minutes to say goodbye when we were rescued.

So, Mom, please remember that you had a mother for a very long time, one that loved you very much and just to hang onto that. She may not be here but you will always have her with you.

Love, Barcelona

This Mother’s Day, my human mom and I will be together. While I sit in her lap and put my head on her leg, we’ll both think about our mothers. We can savor the choicest memories and believe wherever they are, Mom knows that we still love her very much.

Miss You Grandpa!

Well, I guess I’m finally ready to write about Grandpa. He passed away last spring. For many months I couldn’t even talk about him, but now I'm ready to write a remembrance.

Now, I tried to do a little Internet research on this topic, but when I typed in "eulogy by a dog”all I found was “eulogy for a dog!" Hmm, I wonder what that means?

Our Grandpa had lived a long, healthy life before we came along. But recently he'd had a couple of really difficult years. Kobe and I were quite distressed to hear he was diagnosed with “Barkinson’s!” What the heck is that? And more importantly, could Kobe have it since all he does is bark?  That beast is always yapping out the front window at passing dogs and anything else that moves. 

I didn’t know him in the prime of his life, when he enjoyed his own dog, Buddy (some sort of mongrel I’ve been told) as well as all the “granddogs.” Grandpa was a really smart, creative guy, with a wry sense of humor. Mark Twain would have referred to him as a “wag” – no pun intended.

Grandpa was my human’s father. Most importantly, he was a dog lover.  My predecessors Jessie and Russel had wonderful relationships with him.

By the time Kobe and I came along he was going through a lot. Our relationship was short but sweet; he appreciated us but couldn’t get on the floor to interact with us. But I know he would have loved to watch me and Kobe scamper around the living room in Midland.

To close, allow me to borrow a quote from the 2014 Dog Calendar Page -A -Day (by Patricia McConnell.)  He took my heart and ran with it, and I hope he's running still, fast and strong, a piece of my heart bound up with his forever.


Tootles, Barcelona 

My New Best Friend Tock

Oh, camping out in our pop-up was ever so much fun! For one thing, Barcie almost fell out of the camper. (She was found one night, dangling with only her front legs up on the camper bed.) They managed to scoot her back in. The little princess sucked up all the attention with that trick; then managed to work her way into the human’s softer bed. 

The best part of the trip is that I brought home a new little friend! I thought, “instead of BEING the pet, I’ll HAVE a pet!” My new pal is Tick, an American Dog Tick, who I wittedly named “Tock.” Tock was probably a resident of the campground’s woodlands who hopped on me during a walk.

Now I was very excited about having a new friend. But once discovered Tock was plunged into a baggie for identification. I do hope his death wasn’t too traumatic or painful.

I do not think that Tock was able to feed on me, but frankly I wasn’t paying attention. Instead I was just thinking about all the fun we could have together, having thoughtful conversations, taking long walks in the woods, looking for some of Tock’s friends. Now my dreams are all for naught. Maybe I should look for a tapeworm or flea next time.

Got Those Winter Blues

Dear Readers,

 

Like most of you I've endured all the winter I can take.  The temperature is so frigid I haven't even circled the block in weeks!

I've been trying to hibernate during this long cold and snowy season, but that is just wishful thinking. We have to go outside night and day to potty. The wind whistles around our ears, our skinny legs quiver while squatting in freezing temperatures. Kobe and I have stomped out a little icy arena in the corner of the snow heaped lawn.

We haven't seen the earth in months. Kobe and I want to suggest going on Spring Break, although frankly we lack both any jobs or school attendance from which to need a break.

 



But, just the other day I came across a great product. It's called the Porch Potty Premium. It's a box with a patch of faux grass where a dog can tinkle (see right).

A way to use the necessary at room temperature!

Now to alert the humans to this great idea. So, I tore out the page, chewed around the ad and dropped it at their feet. Without verbal communication skills I had to try  alternatives (pointed glances, snorting, cheek puffing and beseeching looks.)

 

For now we are stuck hopping over poopsicles and dodging freezing rain. Spring better be on the way!

 

Toodles, Barcelona  

 

Defending Barcie's Blog

I'm stepping up my computer security. Strengthen the password and lock my brother out. There will be no more hijacking of my blog! Yes, Kobe started out with a very charming article about the holidays. But it soon turned into a confession about ripping open Christmas gifts!

Goodness Gracious, nothing like putting your bad behavior out for the entire world to see. Kobe, you are giving whippets a bad name. Why, Mom's co-worker said that after hearing about your hijinx she would NEVER adopt a whippet. 

And furthermore, Kobe, I'll write what I like. This is supposed to be a clever narrative about my life, not a forum for naughtiness.  I'm not schooling the nation's dogs into figuring out how to access every morsel in the house. This is not a "how to" forum so every Tucker, Daisy and Harvey can learn how to jump on stoves and eat out of the pan. Uh, uh. 

You can be sure that my blog will be safe from intrusion from now on. Apologies to my human audience.

Holiday Eats & Treats

The holiday season just ended. For weeks beforehand I had been dreaming about big spreads and heavily laden tables:  clove-studded roasted hams, golden skinned roast turkeys, roast beef and gravy. Oodles of noodles, squash, green bean casserole, what have you.

Well, not at my house though. They are "vegetarians!" But, still there were lots of seasonal dishes, homemade goodies from our parent's clients and lots more. 


 Now, I tried my best to get into the Christmas spirit. Barcie and I lounged under the Christmas tree. We gazed up at the lights and made our little Christmas wish lists. Then I noticed, way up high in the branches was a delicious looking cookie, homemade. I happened to LOVE sugar cookies. What was it doing up there?  

But when I wrestled it onto the floor and took a couple bites, pthew! That is not a SUGAR cookie that is a SALT cookie! Even Little Miss Perfect (Barcie) tried one too.

Maybe I'd have better luck with a wrapped gift. I mean, if you are giving food as a gift, it must be edible, right? Soooo, I picked a package that smelled the best. (Hmm, Santa got my name wrong; it’s not “Debbie!”) 

I ripped off the bow, scratched off the wrapping paper and broke open the box…Since it was a plastic shell this meant I had to figure out how to crack that open, too. 

Finally, I was in the box! An entire box of Ferrero Rocher® chocolates! I eagerly gobbled my first chocolate; paper, foil and all. Scrumptious!!

Unfortunately, my fantasy of settling down with a box of fine chocolates was shattered when the owners stormed into the house. Supposedly, chocolate is “poisonous to dogs” or so they claim. After all my hard work!  



  

 

Introduction to Counter Surfing

Barcie, did you think that using “whippet” as a password would keep your laptop secure? Geez, how stupid do you think I….Never mind.

I’m determined to increase readership on this blog. A bunch of ramblings about “the book I just read” and the vacations she took is not gonna cut it.

So, let’s turn to a topic of real importance to all you canines out there:  food.  Now, we usually have to depend on the whims of our owners when it comes to getting a snack. But, with my one- track mind, my long legs and a lot of hard work, I have managed to overcome this limitation.

I call my technique “Grab Groceries and Go.”  Now, humans like to leave food in the refrigerator, a sort of large metal box with a tight fitting door. That set-up I have yet to crack. But I've had much more luck with that other location for leaving food:  the counters.

I have made quite a career out of retrieving all sorts of food items off the counter. And I have quite the delicate touch! Like the time when I moved a glass cake pan to the floor and removed the cake without breaking the pan.

Next blog:  I will spill my secrets and describe my many culinary conquests.

Kobe's Turn

Hey Barcie, guess what? I stole your computer and look what I’m doing? I’m blogging!
Barcie goes on and on so I think it's about time I had a turn. I need to tell my story.

I tip the scales at 42 pounds (15 more than Barcie) so I’m a very large whippet. Or as Barcie would say enormous.

I also have a pronounced limp so that passersby can repeatedly say, “did that doggy hurt his paw?”

My life; where should I start? I’m from Wisconsin originally. WRAP brought Barcie and I and all the dogs in the house to the greater Chicago area.  From there I came to Michigan.

I was born with a club foot. This is a condition in which the foot bends up towards the leg; In people it can be corrected with braces, surgery or other techniques.  I'm a dog with a disability, but I don't let it define me.

My original owners showed and bred whippets. I bet most breeders would have “put down” a puppy born with a club foot since I would not have been suitable for showing or er, breeding.  

But, they not only kept me, they had a vet perform corrective surgery. This removed part of my paw and 4 toes, leaving a single toe and nail on the foot. The procedure allowed me to use my leg. Not only can I walk and run, frankly I am a killer typist!

Fact is, holding the foot up in the air with a pathetic demeanor and a winsome look on my face has been a great method for getting handouts. I’m not cute and speedy like Barcie so I need to get by with other attributes.  

Might I just say that as much as I love my sis Barcie, she can be a royal pain. As if the world is hanging on her every word. Seriously girl, do you think you’re Joyce Carol Oates? You write a blog that practically no one reads.

Well, I'm going to help her boost her readership.  So look for more from Yours Truly.
Signed,
Kobe, the big brother

 

 

Barcie on Break

Barcelona is taking a brief hiatus. She suffered some minor scratches near her eyes, but they aren't serious.

 According to Barcie, she was viciously attacked by a squirrel. Right in her own yard. She was just out for a breath of air and no kidding, a squirrel dropped on her and began to slash her with its claws.

She even dug up a picture of some crazed squirrel from the UK (left) and stories (below), plus a web site about the matter.

"In June 2005, a woman was attacked in her own living room by a crazed squirrel in Passau, Germany. The rodent jumped in through the window and sunk its teeth into the woman. Whilst fleeing the scene the squirrel bit a builder and a 72-year-old man, before the pensioner managed to kill it with his crutch."

Here are the top 10 stories about squirrel attacks (just in case you're interested) 

http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/weird-news/killer-squirrels-watch-out-here-372363#ixzz2dbWQIjjr

We believe that it's possible Barcie started the encounter. Just a hunch.

Toodles, Barcie’s Parents 

 

My Skunk Story

  Dear Readers,

Please don’t think I’m bragging, but just the other day I was sure I'd save my humans from certain harm.  Lately there have been many of the creatures called Mephitis Mephitis, in our yard, also known as skunks. You know, Pepe Le Pew. Not as cute as the cartoon though.

 

My latest read, the book  Rabid, A Cultural History of the World’s Most Diabolical Virus by Murphy and Wasik, reported that the skunk was the source of numerous cases of rabies in the old West. And here’s a fun fact:  a single skunk bit 16 people at a military fort. Every one of them died. Rabies, without vaccine treatment, is pretty much fatal.

Naturally I didn’t want such a thing to happen to my owners! So every night before using “the necessary” I carefully patrol the backyard. I spied a striped rascal sneaking around the bushes and tore after it. I saw the devil stamp its feet and turned its back. (A clue, I later learned, as to what was coming next.)

 

You know us whippets, nearly the fastest dog breed. I pounced and grabbed the skunk but a rotten egg stench filled the air. My human shrieked my name. Assuming she wished to inspect my catch, I scurried over.  Instead she grabbed me with a horrified look on her face.

Before I knew it I was whisked into the shower stall. Seconds later peroxide fizzed on my skin; an ingredient in that homemade remedy that removes skunk spray from dog coats. I was scrubbed, washed, rinsed, pressed, buffed, etc. until the odor of skunk was somewhat dulled.

How was I to know that skunks are no longer a threat for rabies? Do I look like a public health expert? Instead of being a heroine I’m sopped and discouraged. Sigh!

 Toodles, Barcelona  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My School Days

I’ve been attending obedience classes at the Huron Valley Humane Society. I wasn’t sure what to expect! The other students were quite an assortment of dogs; a pit bull and basset hound mix (a bassapit, a bassbull?)  spaniel, labs and a tiny toy breed our instructor dubbed “Killer.” I was the lone whippet of course.

One black mongrel just set me off and we had several hostile barking exchanges. He was always looking at me, ya now? Fortunately, Michael Burkey, the teacher (www.Michigandogtrainer.com) switched our positions so I didn’t have to see his snarky face.

I felt that I had to snap at all the other dog’s friendly overtures. You just never know when they’re out to get you! This worry definitely had an impact on my scholastic achievement. Even if I was being enticed with slices of Pupperoni and baked liverwurst.

I did enjoy my training neighbor, Killer. Who knows, we might even have played together in another setting. I did eventually relax a little but it was a challenge.

The training? I was barraged with commands:  “Leave it! Stay! Place! Lie Down!” Goodness, it took months to master “Sit!” I’m not accustomed to following all these orders. At the Carjo’s we just did as we pleased. And Kobe is such a naughty dog it doesn’t take much to look like a canine wizard in comparison.

So, now that class is over, back to the old routine. Now that I’m not in dog-filled room I guess it's not so bad trading my independence for some tasty snacks. Where’s that liverwurst?

Toodles, Barcelona  

Winter is So Yesterday

This whippet is sooo sick of winter. Looking at the soggy disgusting landscape, I see heaps of grey snow and pieces of ice littering the yard. The back deck is crusted over with sharp crusts of ice which are painful to our tender paws. Goodness, when is spring coming?

I try to pace the yard watching for critters but quickly get chilled even when wearing a coat. I long for the days when Kobe and I can lounge in the sun on the deck furniture. Do you think we could persuade the humans to take us somewhere warm?

No, instead they took us even further north so we can freeze walking down the shore of Lake Michigan with the wind howling.  On the flip side there were some awesome smells on the beach (dead fish, essence of goose, duck, even a little eagle).

 Later, inside I indulge in a bout of fantasizing about a more comfortable scene.  

Kobe on the Beach (not a warm one though!)

Here it is:  Kobe and I are taken to our dream vacation. We are lying on soft beds on a warm beach and sunning ourselves in the tropical warmth.  Greyhounds (OK, golden retrievers or beagles, who  cares?) are fanning us with palm fronds and feeding us slivers of Milkbone dog biscuits.) Cool, fruity drinks  arrive on silver platters for us to sample.

Occasionally we would race around the sand just to keep our sleek muscles firm. Then, we go back to lounging in the
breezes and sunshine. Until the temperature comes up, I’ll have to stay warm with my daydreams.  Here’s to spring!

Higher Education

As I mentioned in my Christmas blog, I just learned I’m signed up for “Basic Manners” at the local humane society. I was so mad that steam was pouring out of my pointy ears! I’m the well-behaved one in this house; why in heaven’s name am I going? The unfairness of it all was quite unsettling.   

But, I learned last week that this class is the first step in becoming a trained Therapy Dog. Well! That changes the whole picture. I may have a new purpose in life.

Now, earlier this year [ My Dog, the Therapist blog] I explored the idea of offering my services as a therapist. I had envisioned, that my clients would spill their souls while I laid nearby on the furniture and listened. But, I guess that it is NOT the way a therapy dog operates.

Instead, I’ll visit folks in the hospital, clinic, hospice or whatever. As we interact, I will melt their hearts; lower their blood pressure and all that.

So I have readjusted my attitude and look forward to taking some continuing education in February. So Stay Tuned!

Dog Obedience and the Holiday

Well, Christmas has finally come. For days I’ve been dreaming about Santa Claus. The way Kobe has been acting, he’s just begging for a big hunk of coal in his stocking.

He perches on the furniture to look out the window, sleeps on the bed whenever the humans are gone and leaves little surprises in the back office. And not good surprises of course.

And the counter-surfing! For the sake of brevity, I won’t go into that.

So today I was looking so forward to Christmas and just expecting something. Maybe a little giftee, a stocking filled with trinkets, a squeaky toy to pounce on, some juicy treats! I did hear that there were Milk bone® wreaths made for us.

Not Feeling Grateful

But, Christmas morning there was nothing. The wreaths got misplaced; we heard we’ll get them later. There were little bits of ham in our dinner. But, it wasn’t the exciting Christmas I had planned on.

I just knew all along that Kobe would gum up the works! Then I learned that the good dog, the perfect pet, moi,is registered for “Basic Manners”, an obedience class.

If that doesn’t beat all! Here I am, obedient as ever and I’m the one being “trained.” Can’t wait to blog about that.

A most unsatisfying holiday.

Tootles, Barcelona

A Summer Weekend

 

     Now that it's fall, my mind wanders back to our summer adventures. Kobe, our humans and I were heading up north for a long weekend. At first, we anxiously noticed the suitcases coming out. But, when the Milkbone® biscuits and squeaky toys got packed, we knew that this time we were going along. 

     As we drove along we saw a motel along the road. It will remain unnamed for soon-to-be obvious reasons. Nearby there was a very nice doghouse with a St. Bernard in front. His name, Barney, adorned the house. He seemed like a friendly enough sort, but when I sniffed him he didn’t sniff back and had no dog smell! What the hay?

      Turns out he’s just a statue. But, he’s sitting in front of a perfectly serviceable dog house.  So, Barney did offer some respite for a weary traveler.  
    Well, I am the product of good breeding and I conduct myself as a lady. As such I prefer to do “my business” in private. When the opportunity arose for me to use the necessary away from prying eyes, I took it! Is that so wrong?

     I did NOT understand why everyone erupted in hysterical giggles as I discretely went in the cool recesses of Barney's home. Not to worry my dear audience, they cleaned up after I was done, but not without enjoying a good laugh at my expense. 
     Well that was the highlight of our vacation. Since I do not kayak, don’t like the water and was not offered an ice cream cone or taken out to a nice dinner, I’m afraid the trip had little to offer.  So much for another tepid adventure.

Toodles, Barcelona

 

A Turd is a Turd is a Turd



My paw on the mouse

I’ve been surfing the web and reading other dog’s blogs. One is a provocative website written by some pit bulls rescued from the Michael Vick case.  One dog, Grace, has been blogging since her rescue in 2007 or 2008 which you can read at

vickdogsblog.blogspot.com. 

 Now they have a pretty sweet life. And I appreciate the emphasis on the present, not the past. But, it made me think about Mr. Vick, someone with a vague resemblance to a human being.

 

Not to say he doesn't have his supporters! But then so did Hitler; (as you know, throwing out Hitler’s name always helps solidify whatever argument you’re making!)

Well, you may like Michael Vick and think he’s a swell guy and great football player; but there’s no guarantee that he’s going to treat anyone better than he treated these dogs, many of whom he killed in a gruesome manner.  There is lots of research on animal abusers and the likelihood that they abuse others, domestic partners, elders, children, etc. And in this dog’s opinion, he deserved to go to prison. Remember the cartoon titled “Jury of his Peers?” 

A Jury of His Peers

So kudos to Grace and the rest for going on to have a good life after encountering that waste of skin. Thanks also to the rescuers and all those others working to end cruelty towards animals. The best revenge IS living well.

And why is the Humane Society of the United States now working with this sadist who is doing public announcements since he is supposedly reformed? Face it, the reason he stopped is because he got caught. 

 You Michael Vick are a turd, turd, turd. No offense to any fine turds out there.

Tootles,
 

Barcelona

 

Addendum to Whippet 2012 Nationals

Here I am on the car trip. Was hoping to get some driving experience, but no dice. My feet don't reach the clutch pedal or the brake.