American Saffordshire Terrier, American Bulldog, American Idol.

...a 3 year old, 140 pound kitten of a Rotty who's spent his entire life on a chain.

He's extremely huge, but well proportioned, soulful, intimidating to those who don't know better, and quite stunning in person.  My lousy camera doesn't quite capture his gorgeousness, and he hasn't yet learned to not jump (so I couldn't really get better shot.)

The skin under the collar on his neck is hairless and calloused.  Does any one know if this skin can ever return to normal?  I know of a lot of balms out there but my gut tells me that once hair is lost, its gone. 

I would appreciate any feedback.

In the meantime, Sam and I are going for a walk in the next couple of days.

This little guy is Blogtime's face of the Travel category...

...and this little guy is the best friend any actor would want in his HBO Entourage.

Ay, chihuahua.

...HAYL NO!

The overnighter with Storm was a disaster.  At my age, and with my schedule, I simply do not have the time or patience or stomach, quite frankly, to house train a big dog.  I'll spare everyone the details, suffice it to say that I hope that my sisal rug doesn't fade in the sun.

NEXT!

I'm remembering my friend Betsy as I write this.  She was NEVER able to housetrain the older dogs she adopted.  Bless her heart, she gave those old guys the best years of their lives, but her house was a mess.  And I'm just not willing to have that pole-barn kennel smell in my house.  Given that she was so patient and nurturing with her charges, I wonder truly if it is probable that an old dog can be housetrained. 

Or maybe that's not the issue, maybe I'm not the older shelter dog type .  I had a sister-in-law who loved Siamese cats. At one point I think she had 8 of them.  They had the run of the house and it was a smelly mess.  But the cats were happy - nevermind that the rest of us had to take Benadryl everytime we visited.

Were Betsy and cat-lady-in-law aware of how stinky their homes were?  Or did their love and dedication, somehow, enable the nerve thingies that turn off their sense of smell while the rest of us choked and politely turned down offers for dinner, glasses of water, etc.  Does their animal-love exonerate them somehow from criticism and disdain? Were the rest of us just terrible, cold and heartless?

I don't care. Gross is gross.  Breeder puppies are beginning to sound good again.  I'm willing to deal with the chewing...and the scorn.

...are when I'm sick.  I'm a big baby.

Every once in a blue moon, my sciatic nerve get irritated and I'm just no good.  I wouldn't say that it's a chronic problem, as the last time I suffered an episode was about 13 years ago.  The damn nerve is acting up again and like the last time, there was no heavy lifting involved.  The last time I tossed a newspaper into the back of my SUV; this time, I tossed a piece of cardboard into the back of my baby brother's SUV.  The last time, it really hurt; this time it did too - it is the kind of pain that makes you nauseaus.  The last time I rested and did stretching exercies, which I've been doing now. Ada, my beloved German Shorthaired Pointer, cuddled next to me the last time.  This time, I'm all alone.

I miss having a dog. I miss the comfort. I miss the reassurance they return.  How do they do that?