In case you missed it, Frontline ran the first of a two part series "The Age Of AIDS". I found it at times fascinating and infuriating. If you don't come out being incredibly angry at the Reagan administration and stunned at the number of people who ended up infected with HIV, needlessly, as well as all the hate and fear that politicians could have prevented, if only they wanted to, well, let's just say it makes the attempted deification of Reagan in death all the more putrid.
In any case, Part 2 airs tomorrow. The web page has links to maps, timelines and much more. If you missed it, after Friday you can watch it on-line.
The New York Times finds the show "an incredibly important document"
Watch this show as well. Jimmy Barnes meets a ho-mo-sexual.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
And Now, A Plot Twist
You know those days off I was celebrating? There's gonna be a lot more where they came from. I'll explain further but right now I feel like I've been punched in the gut. FUCK!
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Friday, May 26, 2006
Happy Holiday Indeed!
Of course, I'll be working through most of your holiday weekend. However I found out yesterday that because of my impending schedule change, I will have a big chunk of next week off. I considered planning a trip back to see the folks in Boofalo, but any trip now would have to include the dog. I wouldn't consider traumatizing him right now by putting him in a kennel and The Ex is simply not capable of caring for him right now. We had a huge fight. It started over the dog but it was actually about a lot of long-simmering resentments. I was incredibly nasty. I don't regret a thing. So instead I'm considering a day on the Isle of Fire. I would love to bring Jet out to the beach. Then again, I may stay right here. The Hellcat has resurfaced. I'm not sure how long. But his dog is back in the house as well. How happy am I when Jet and Colby are both tip-tipping around the apartment? Very happy indeed.
I had planned on going this afternoon to see X3. I think instead I'll have some lunch and a quick workout. I have plenty of time now next week to see it.
I was working yesterday evening when this slab o' beef wandered up to join someone for a cocktail and what appeared to be a business meeting. Only in Chelsea is business attire tank tops and board shorts but hey, who am I to judge? I knew I recognized him from somewhere but it took me a few minutes. Ah, Quentin. Pretty yummy.
I had planned on going this afternoon to see X3. I think instead I'll have some lunch and a quick workout. I have plenty of time now next week to see it.
I was working yesterday evening when this slab o' beef wandered up to join someone for a cocktail and what appeared to be a business meeting. Only in Chelsea is business attire tank tops and board shorts but hey, who am I to judge? I knew I recognized him from somewhere but it took me a few minutes. Ah, Quentin. Pretty yummy.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
On The Mend
I slept yesterday until 1:45, which is late even for a night person like me. It means my body is healing and needs rest. I feel much better. I have to adjust my body clock anyway. After only a few weeks my work schedule is already about to change. I'll be doing two day shifts and only two closing shifts. I'll be having weekend nights off for the first time in over a decade, which will be totally bizarre.
Yesterday also brought with it the start of my favorite holiday here in New York. Yes friends, Fleet Week is once again upon us. Hundreds and hundreds of fresh-faced young sailors, some with a rudimentary grasp of English, have descended on my fair city. How do you say "whip it out" in Russian?
Yesterday also brought with it the start of my favorite holiday here in New York. Yes friends, Fleet Week is once again upon us. Hundreds and hundreds of fresh-faced young sailors, some with a rudimentary grasp of English, have descended on my fair city. How do you say "whip it out" in Russian?
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Giving Equal Time To Pussy
Have I shown you this yet? Cheesy. And Hilarious.
Today my boy became a man. Or rather a dog. Actually, a gay dog. Specifically a gay top dog. We set out mid-afternoon for a trip to the dog run in Tompkin's Square. Jet was behaving fairly well, we're working on getting him to walk beside me. It seems to lessen his anxiety and reduces him lunging at joggers and bikers. He let most of them pass without incident. We got to the run pretty easily. When he gets distracted and starts turning around to prevent some unknown sneak attack a quick tug on the leash seems to snap him out of it.
After arriving at the run and settling in, I expected him to engage in some butt sniffing and then stay by me for most of the time. That's what he's always done. Shortly after that, Finn arrived. (cue soaring Yanni music) Finn is a male brown haired terrier of some sort. He is in the blush of youth at 14 months. Jet found Finn and his butt irresistable. I was stunned when Finn trotted away and Jet followed running behind. "Wait, your ass smells fantastic! I looooove you!" He exclaimed. I daresay he actually frolicked amongst the dogs. Wherever Finn led, Jet followed. Finn was a bit of a slut, and his great smelling butt was not lost on the other dogs. Jet seemed a tad annoyed to have to share his Finn-hole with others, but he patiently waited his turn. Of course, it wasn't long before my gay top dog absolutely had to try and fuck Finn in the ass. I was stunned. I think I even spotted a little pink lipstick protruding from Jet. I scolded him and he dismounted. Only to jump all up on his bumper moments later. I scolded him again, whereupon Finn's owner admitted what we already knew. Finn's a slut. Other dog's like to hump him and Finn doesn't really object. With that, I happily let Finn and Jet and the other dogs frolick and fuck the afternoon away. I watched a white haired poodle try to make my Jet the lucky Pierre in a doggie three-way, but Jet pushed him off. "I said I'm a top, Frenchy."
We spent over an hour in the run, and while Jet only had eyes for Finn, he did in fact dally with a few others. I felt like a parent on the first day of school. Proud but sad. My boy is growing up. And he's gay.
So. The vagina. I'm walking to work the other afternoon. I'm on 23rd between 5th and 6th. Before the Homo Depot. I glance at some people leaning in doorways and sitting on the sidewalk. I spot a homeless woman. Or a very dirty woman with a home and in serious need of a dye job, some soap and water, and a clean lycra top, size infinitely larger than the one she's wearing. That's what caught my eye. She's sitting on the sidewalk smoking a cigarette. She's wearing a pair of jeans. Her knees are up and spread apart, forming a V-shaped tunnel that draws your eyes. Right to the giant hole ripped out of the crotch of her jeans. These were not rips or tears. It was a giant hole. Providing an unobstructed view of her giant hole. I swear, you could see directly into her vagina. I was stunned. And looked away. Then I went blind. This is what happens when a gay man unexpectedly looks into a vagina. Look it up. Fortunately, there's a school for the blind just a bit further up on 23rd. There actually is. After being outfitted with a cane and provided counseling for unexpectedly viewing a homeless vagina, I continued on to work. My eyesight returned by morning.
Today my boy became a man. Or rather a dog. Actually, a gay dog. Specifically a gay top dog. We set out mid-afternoon for a trip to the dog run in Tompkin's Square. Jet was behaving fairly well, we're working on getting him to walk beside me. It seems to lessen his anxiety and reduces him lunging at joggers and bikers. He let most of them pass without incident. We got to the run pretty easily. When he gets distracted and starts turning around to prevent some unknown sneak attack a quick tug on the leash seems to snap him out of it.
After arriving at the run and settling in, I expected him to engage in some butt sniffing and then stay by me for most of the time. That's what he's always done. Shortly after that, Finn arrived. (cue soaring Yanni music) Finn is a male brown haired terrier of some sort. He is in the blush of youth at 14 months. Jet found Finn and his butt irresistable. I was stunned when Finn trotted away and Jet followed running behind. "Wait, your ass smells fantastic! I looooove you!" He exclaimed. I daresay he actually frolicked amongst the dogs. Wherever Finn led, Jet followed. Finn was a bit of a slut, and his great smelling butt was not lost on the other dogs. Jet seemed a tad annoyed to have to share his Finn-hole with others, but he patiently waited his turn. Of course, it wasn't long before my gay top dog absolutely had to try and fuck Finn in the ass. I was stunned. I think I even spotted a little pink lipstick protruding from Jet. I scolded him and he dismounted. Only to jump all up on his bumper moments later. I scolded him again, whereupon Finn's owner admitted what we already knew. Finn's a slut. Other dog's like to hump him and Finn doesn't really object. With that, I happily let Finn and Jet and the other dogs frolick and fuck the afternoon away. I watched a white haired poodle try to make my Jet the lucky Pierre in a doggie three-way, but Jet pushed him off. "I said I'm a top, Frenchy."
We spent over an hour in the run, and while Jet only had eyes for Finn, he did in fact dally with a few others. I felt like a parent on the first day of school. Proud but sad. My boy is growing up. And he's gay.
So. The vagina. I'm walking to work the other afternoon. I'm on 23rd between 5th and 6th. Before the Homo Depot. I glance at some people leaning in doorways and sitting on the sidewalk. I spot a homeless woman. Or a very dirty woman with a home and in serious need of a dye job, some soap and water, and a clean lycra top, size infinitely larger than the one she's wearing. That's what caught my eye. She's sitting on the sidewalk smoking a cigarette. She's wearing a pair of jeans. Her knees are up and spread apart, forming a V-shaped tunnel that draws your eyes. Right to the giant hole ripped out of the crotch of her jeans. These were not rips or tears. It was a giant hole. Providing an unobstructed view of her giant hole. I swear, you could see directly into her vagina. I was stunned. And looked away. Then I went blind. This is what happens when a gay man unexpectedly looks into a vagina. Look it up. Fortunately, there's a school for the blind just a bit further up on 23rd. There actually is. After being outfitted with a cane and provided counseling for unexpectedly viewing a homeless vagina, I continued on to work. My eyesight returned by morning.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Feelin' Not So Groovy
Ugh. Started feeling crappy last night while closing the bar. I'm run down and I started getting a sore throat. When I woke up this morning it felt like I swallowed steel wool. I took the dog for a walk and the sun was absolutely killing my eyes. I don't seem to have a fever so I guess that's good news. Part of the problem is I'm having trouble making it to the gym. So my energy level is low all the time. But I'm off for three days and I'm determined to get there today and at least do some cardio. So how sick can I be?
The other night I got home late and puttered around a bit. After turning on a light in the bedroom I spotted what I feared was a big ole dog shit in my bed. I was surprised and disappointed as Jet has never once shit in the house. I was surprised because his bed is my bed and I thought dogs didn't do that. Upon closer inspection I found that what I assumed was shit was actually an entire sausage. I checked the kitchen, and if The Ex made a sausage dinner he ate the whole thing. For the life of me, I can't figure out where Jet got the sausage or why he stashed it in the bed instead of eating it. Dogs are weird.
This week I shopped in the Petco with Nathan Lane. I greeted a guest coming in to the restaurant. Turns out it was B.D. Wong. He's cute. I loved him on Oz. Remind me to tell you the story of me looking directly into a homeless lady's vagina.
The other night I got home late and puttered around a bit. After turning on a light in the bedroom I spotted what I feared was a big ole dog shit in my bed. I was surprised and disappointed as Jet has never once shit in the house. I was surprised because his bed is my bed and I thought dogs didn't do that. Upon closer inspection I found that what I assumed was shit was actually an entire sausage. I checked the kitchen, and if The Ex made a sausage dinner he ate the whole thing. For the life of me, I can't figure out where Jet got the sausage or why he stashed it in the bed instead of eating it. Dogs are weird.
This week I shopped in the Petco with Nathan Lane. I greeted a guest coming in to the restaurant. Turns out it was B.D. Wong. He's cute. I loved him on Oz. Remind me to tell you the story of me looking directly into a homeless lady's vagina.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
A Whole New World
A Washington Post reporter, who covered HIV/AIDS extensively since the late 1980's turns up HIV+ after his 47th birthday and the 25th Anniversary of AIDS in America. Despite his feelings of being "spared" to "bear witness", and mindful of the fact that he thought he was being safe. Now he finds his reactions surprising and his perspective doing a real 360. Hmmm. Sorry, man. And welcome to the club.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
My Best Friend
It's been a little over two weeks since my dog and I found each other. While there have been things I haven't counted on about becoming a pet owner, overall I couldn't be happier with my decision. Jet has been a joy and a welcome addition to my household. At least to me.
Friday night, I came home from work after 3 and immediately got Jet ready for his late walk. This is frequently my favorite time to walk him because my Gramercy Park neighborhood can be almost devoid of other people. There's auto and truck traffic of course, but we frequently walk an entire block without passing a soul. Jet can still be skittish aroound noisy people, so with them absent, he happily runs from garbage can to tree, peeing and rooting around for eatable trash. I know, I try to stop him. Speaking of that, this dog is a piss machine. Understandable, considering the massive amounts of water he drinks. I swear, I have to refill his giant water dish three or four times a day. I've never waited as long as I do with this dog while he pees and pees it out. TMI?
Anyway, after his late walk I retired to bed around 4. Jet climbed in with me. I woke up around 5:30 or 6 to the sound of Jet barking. He was no longer in bed. This was unusual. He rarely barks at all and never at night. I got up to investigate. I found Jet at the end of the kitchen hallway, barking at the outside door. On the other end of the hallway, outside his bedroom, stood The Ex. He was naked. He had a giant beach towel wrapped around his right arm.
"What's going on?"
"Grab him, I think he's going to bite me."
I held his collar.
"Bite you? He's 8 feet away."
"I got up cause he was barking and he growled at me."
"It's dark and late and you're staring at him down a hallway."
Apparently, after coming upon Jet up and barking at 6 am, The Ex mistook Jet reacting to something he heard out in the hall. Surprised and still not totally secure, Jet growled. He does that when he's scared or confused. It doesn't mean he's about to bite. It means keep away, I'm scared. Of course, The Ex wouldn't know that, considering in two weeks, he hasn't fed, walked or played with the dog. Beyond saying hello and a simple pat on the head he barely acknowledged him. Small wonder my dog doesn't particularly like him. He hasn't been particularly nice.
Which is why my 170 lb. roommate ended up naked but for a beach towel wrapped arm, which I later learned was for defensive purposes, as he intended to fend off an attack from my killer 30 lb. dog. Honestly. Of course, the next day Jet warmly greeted The Ex, having a dog's memory, meaning he totally forgot it. The Ex had a suggestion.
"Jet is really good when you're at work. But maybe when you're asleep at home you should lock the door."
I looked at him with a withering stare.
"Or maybe we should leave the dog and me free and lock you up for the night."
Discussion ended.
Friday night, I came home from work after 3 and immediately got Jet ready for his late walk. This is frequently my favorite time to walk him because my Gramercy Park neighborhood can be almost devoid of other people. There's auto and truck traffic of course, but we frequently walk an entire block without passing a soul. Jet can still be skittish aroound noisy people, so with them absent, he happily runs from garbage can to tree, peeing and rooting around for eatable trash. I know, I try to stop him. Speaking of that, this dog is a piss machine. Understandable, considering the massive amounts of water he drinks. I swear, I have to refill his giant water dish three or four times a day. I've never waited as long as I do with this dog while he pees and pees it out. TMI?
Anyway, after his late walk I retired to bed around 4. Jet climbed in with me. I woke up around 5:30 or 6 to the sound of Jet barking. He was no longer in bed. This was unusual. He rarely barks at all and never at night. I got up to investigate. I found Jet at the end of the kitchen hallway, barking at the outside door. On the other end of the hallway, outside his bedroom, stood The Ex. He was naked. He had a giant beach towel wrapped around his right arm.
"What's going on?"
"Grab him, I think he's going to bite me."
I held his collar.
"Bite you? He's 8 feet away."
"I got up cause he was barking and he growled at me."
"It's dark and late and you're staring at him down a hallway."
Apparently, after coming upon Jet up and barking at 6 am, The Ex mistook Jet reacting to something he heard out in the hall. Surprised and still not totally secure, Jet growled. He does that when he's scared or confused. It doesn't mean he's about to bite. It means keep away, I'm scared. Of course, The Ex wouldn't know that, considering in two weeks, he hasn't fed, walked or played with the dog. Beyond saying hello and a simple pat on the head he barely acknowledged him. Small wonder my dog doesn't particularly like him. He hasn't been particularly nice.
Which is why my 170 lb. roommate ended up naked but for a beach towel wrapped arm, which I later learned was for defensive purposes, as he intended to fend off an attack from my killer 30 lb. dog. Honestly. Of course, the next day Jet warmly greeted The Ex, having a dog's memory, meaning he totally forgot it. The Ex had a suggestion.
"Jet is really good when you're at work. But maybe when you're asleep at home you should lock the door."
I looked at him with a withering stare.
"Or maybe we should leave the dog and me free and lock you up for the night."
Discussion ended.
Christ! More Dogs!
Here's a picture of the dog run at Stuyvesant Park. It's only a block from my place. I like it especially if it's been raining because it's mostly concrete. Less mud for the dogs to get on/into. This is only part of the enclosure but it's huge and there's plenty of room to let the dogs off leash and run and play.
Here's a shot of the run at Tompkin's Square Park. It's a bit of a hike but there's a dirt pit for dogs to dig up and lots of wood chips to run on and scratch paws on. The dogs there are divided into big and small dogs. Jet prefers to hang with the big boys. So like his daddy. Some of the dogs are really, really big.
Here's a handsome shot of my boy:
And some of his new pals:
Although, truth to tell, Jet can be a little standoffish when he's in the run. He likes to run, but only with me, and he doesn't like to play fetch at all. He also doesn't mix much with the other dogs, except for butt-sniffing. Again, I know where he got that. I'm wondering if he knows he's a dog.
Monday, May 15, 2006
I'm Rich! I'm Wealthy! I'm A Happy Miser!
The Powers That Be in underemployment land finally saw fit to bestow a mini-windfall on my precious head. They ruled in my favor over the Evil Trolls on the Bowery, and I am now a multiple-thousand-aire. Plus, tomorrow is pay day. I'm gonna git mah dawg a solid gold bone!
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Friday, May 12, 2006
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Happy Birthday, AIDS!
It's the 25th Anniversary of AIDS in America. AIDS would blow out some candles but it can't lift it's head off the pillow. Newsweek put AIDS' birthday on the cover. AIDS is so lucky. But the article they ran is pretty good, and the picture galleries they ran were great. Read the profiles in the Faces of HIV today photo gallery.
Meanwhile the CDC is about to announce they recommend everyone age 13 to 64 that visits a doctor receive an HIV test without counseling or permission. I agree, with qualifications. Fear kept me from getting an HIV test for many years. The only reason I went to see a doctor during that time was because I knew I wouldn't be tested against my will. I think if it had been mandatory, I might have avoided routine doctor visits. That kind of mentality will cause many people to avoid the doctor to avoid being tested and ultimately they will end up in the hospital, already very sick and immune compromised. This will be expensive and result in many people dying that could be helped. If HIV testing becomes mandatory, money must be spent on further educating people that HIV is not an automatic death sentence. It is treatable and survivable. AIDS is not. Thank goodness I faced my fear in time.
Here's a few fun facts, taken from the above mentioned CDC article. 500,00 Americans are dead from AIDS, out of 25 million worldwide. Upwards of one million Americans have HIV, and 1/4 of them are unaware of it.
Since were on the subject, I've added a couple of blogs to my list that I think are of note. Both of them were started at the time of their seroconversion. An interesting jump-off point, no? Check out Going Gentle. Also, Lee at less than 50 seems to be struggling with a lot of side effects from going on meds. If anyone has some advice/tips for him it would be nice to reach out.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
I Love It!
I recently posted a comment over at Joe's blog regarding the over zealous search policy inside the Best Buy stores here in the city. So imagine how thrilled I was to read about how they were the victims of a mission from the folks at Improv Everywhere. The results are pretty funny. -via Towleroad
Court sentences German cannibal to life sentence. After corresponding with over 400 people (!) he managed to convince some poor bastard to come over, where they proceeded to cut off and attempt to both eat his penis. There's video. Of the verdict not the meal.
The Post is running a promotion. They're giving away miniature baseballs with images of current players. Every day it's a different player. Every day I giggle like an Asian schoolgirl. "Randy Johnson mini-balls" *snicker*
I'll have more later.
Court sentences German cannibal to life sentence. After corresponding with over 400 people (!) he managed to convince some poor bastard to come over, where they proceeded to cut off and attempt to both eat his penis. There's video. Of the verdict not the meal.
The Post is running a promotion. They're giving away miniature baseballs with images of current players. Every day it's a different player. Every day I giggle like an Asian schoolgirl. "Randy Johnson mini-balls" *snicker*
I'll have more later.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Fully Funded
Hurrah! I picked up my first full paycheck yesterday. It's hookers and beer all weekend. Or dog food and chew sticks. Maybe hookers and dog food. I'll decide later.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Oh My Stars!
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
The Story Behind The Story.
A dog? You got a dog? I swear, every new phone call is an adventure these days. I'm paraphrasing my mom's reaction to the news that I finally made her a grand parent. Although I have no illusions that my dog is or will be treated like a baby human. He's a dog. I intend to treat him like one, with the occasional cuddle and kisses. I responded that I was simply "getting on with it."
The Hellcat and I had a massive falling out. We didn't speak for weeks, or rather I mostly didn't speak to him. And while we've achieved some sort of detente in our living arrangement, he has been spending more and more time at the boyfriend's apartment. That part was fine, but he took the dog with him. I quickly adjusted to life without The Hellcat but I found myself missing his dog terribly. I got used to having one around the house. And on paper, his plan was to work another summer on Fire Island. So I was facing the prospect of living without the dog all year. It started me seriously thinking about getting one of my own.
Having made that decision, I set about considering what I wanted or didn't want in a dog. I didn't want a puppy. Of course, they're impossibly cute. But incredibly hard to train and put up with. I wanted a dog, not a shitstorm of piss and shit, and woe be unto the animal that chews one of my shoes. A rescue dog seemed perfect. After all, I've made a lifetime career out of my attempts at rescuing people. Beyond that, I was pretty sure, but not locked into, wanting a boy. I wanted one young enough to enjoy for a good long time, even though I was worried about having an energetic young dog in my life. I needn't have worried. This one, at least, loves to sack out on the bed.
After a failed attempt to arrange an adoption through the ASPCA, I spent a few hours on Petfinder. I wasn't sure beyond what I said previously that I was looking for, I knew I would know when I found him. That eventually led me to Jet. He was one of two dogs on the same rescue site, both completely different breeds. I would have been happy with either one. I made several attempts to reach the woman who ran the shelter but she was incredibly lax about returning calls or being available when she said she was. She never responded to my e-mails. Curious behavior for someone trying to place dogs. I would later find out that she was "good-hearted" but "kind of crazy". I noticed in Jet's profile that he was in doggie foster care. There was another phone number and e-mail address for the people that were keeping him. I called them Saturday morning and after speaking with them and starting to get directions to go see them in deepest darkest Queens, they abruptly and most generously offered to drive Jet in to meet me on Sunday. Me quest to find a dog was really starting to take on a meant to be quality. So Sunday morning I rousted my own ass out of bed and was waiting to meet Jet promptly at 11. It was supposed to be a meet and greet where we would see if we liked each other and talk about adopting. I have a confession to make. I have a "thing" with kids and dogs. Most animals in fact. Put me in a room with an "unfriendly" cat and it will inexplicably wander into my lap. So is it a big surprise that "standoffish and shy" Jethro ended up licking my face within the hour? We spent almost an hour and a half together, and while he was bigger and sturdier than the doggie I pictured, I kind of figured we belonged together.
And so it was that Jet's foster family agreed and what started as a meeting ended up as an adoption right then and there. I was totally unprepared and had to take him home and run back out for bowls and food and toys and snacks. I've ended up with an incredibly smart, unbelievably stubborn animal. He's got some aggression problems outside the house, he doesn't care for anything on wheels, and he growls after unsteady babies and noisy teenagers. He's a total bandit when it comes to stealing food, and when he gets fixated on something he wants, it's a struggle to get him to think of something else. We've already battled over trying to eat off my plate, and the difference between playing and biting. I've had to show him, quite aggressively, who the pack leader around this house is, but he's learning. He's also the most loving, cuddly dog first thing in the morning. He's slept with me the first night and last night, and I'll let him if that's what he wants. He's going to take some work to learn some manners outside, but I think we've begun a beautiful relationship.
For now, here's another picture. I promise not to be one of those people that posts endless dog pictures. Not forever, anyway.
The Hellcat and I had a massive falling out. We didn't speak for weeks, or rather I mostly didn't speak to him. And while we've achieved some sort of detente in our living arrangement, he has been spending more and more time at the boyfriend's apartment. That part was fine, but he took the dog with him. I quickly adjusted to life without The Hellcat but I found myself missing his dog terribly. I got used to having one around the house. And on paper, his plan was to work another summer on Fire Island. So I was facing the prospect of living without the dog all year. It started me seriously thinking about getting one of my own.
Having made that decision, I set about considering what I wanted or didn't want in a dog. I didn't want a puppy. Of course, they're impossibly cute. But incredibly hard to train and put up with. I wanted a dog, not a shitstorm of piss and shit, and woe be unto the animal that chews one of my shoes. A rescue dog seemed perfect. After all, I've made a lifetime career out of my attempts at rescuing people. Beyond that, I was pretty sure, but not locked into, wanting a boy. I wanted one young enough to enjoy for a good long time, even though I was worried about having an energetic young dog in my life. I needn't have worried. This one, at least, loves to sack out on the bed.
After a failed attempt to arrange an adoption through the ASPCA, I spent a few hours on Petfinder. I wasn't sure beyond what I said previously that I was looking for, I knew I would know when I found him. That eventually led me to Jet. He was one of two dogs on the same rescue site, both completely different breeds. I would have been happy with either one. I made several attempts to reach the woman who ran the shelter but she was incredibly lax about returning calls or being available when she said she was. She never responded to my e-mails. Curious behavior for someone trying to place dogs. I would later find out that she was "good-hearted" but "kind of crazy". I noticed in Jet's profile that he was in doggie foster care. There was another phone number and e-mail address for the people that were keeping him. I called them Saturday morning and after speaking with them and starting to get directions to go see them in deepest darkest Queens, they abruptly and most generously offered to drive Jet in to meet me on Sunday. Me quest to find a dog was really starting to take on a meant to be quality. So Sunday morning I rousted my own ass out of bed and was waiting to meet Jet promptly at 11. It was supposed to be a meet and greet where we would see if we liked each other and talk about adopting. I have a confession to make. I have a "thing" with kids and dogs. Most animals in fact. Put me in a room with an "unfriendly" cat and it will inexplicably wander into my lap. So is it a big surprise that "standoffish and shy" Jethro ended up licking my face within the hour? We spent almost an hour and a half together, and while he was bigger and sturdier than the doggie I pictured, I kind of figured we belonged together.
And so it was that Jet's foster family agreed and what started as a meeting ended up as an adoption right then and there. I was totally unprepared and had to take him home and run back out for bowls and food and toys and snacks. I've ended up with an incredibly smart, unbelievably stubborn animal. He's got some aggression problems outside the house, he doesn't care for anything on wheels, and he growls after unsteady babies and noisy teenagers. He's a total bandit when it comes to stealing food, and when he gets fixated on something he wants, it's a struggle to get him to think of something else. We've already battled over trying to eat off my plate, and the difference between playing and biting. I've had to show him, quite aggressively, who the pack leader around this house is, but he's learning. He's also the most loving, cuddly dog first thing in the morning. He's slept with me the first night and last night, and I'll let him if that's what he wants. He's going to take some work to learn some manners outside, but I think we've begun a beautiful relationship.
For now, here's another picture. I promise not to be one of those people that posts endless dog pictures. Not forever, anyway.
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