Every dog has their day...puppies too

Sometimes good intentions are the best course of action. Today I rescued four puppies that were abandoned near my best friend's tool shed. My typical response to such things is to call animal control and have them net the pups and hope that they find them good homes. I would have followed this action again except; 1, it wasn't my property and 2, my friend's neighbor was threatening to put poison out near them to kill them all.

My first instinct was to go cuss the crazy cow out and throw the rat poison pellets at her ass. But being that we're still in the spirt of Buddy Christ and all the principals of Kwanza, well, I just chocked it up to her being a retard and i'll put her on my "you ain't shit" list to utilize if ever the situation presents itself.

Now these puppies have developed some survival skills. They're at least five weeks old, with a healthy set of teeth and a nice wooly coat to keep them warm during these crazy Winter nights. From the moment I saw them, they were on high alert - barking and keeping a defensive posture protecting the brood. When I tell you they acted as if they had military training, I'm not joking. One bit me and created a distraction while the others tried to get away to safety. It took me and two friends to wrangle them all.

After we got them out of the shed, I temporarily placed them in my friend's kennel to give them food and water. From there, I just watched them. It's then I noticed each one's unique markings and initial personalities. Furthermore, I was able to watch each one do a particular job and now realized how they were able to survive.

First, there's the caramel-colored boy. He was the first one to the food - he's much bigger than the others and checked everything out. There's not much to say about him, he checked out the food, started to eat and then sat there waiting to be petted. He's definitely the nicest of the bunch, but you know the old addage, the fastest way to man's heart is through his stomach...guess that includes puppies. If I were to name him, I'd call him "Stump" he just has that look about him, don't you think. Most people prefer boy dogs, so he'll find a home pretty quickly.

Next comes the caramel-colored girl, she has a lot of sores on her. I imagine they are from scurring through the holes in the shed they made home. This little girl spent most of the time checking the perimeter, looking for a way out. She went around the entire kennel three times, jumping and pulling and sometimes digging to find a means of escape. when she didn't find one, she howled for a bit then went and joined the others. Whoever get's this dog will probably have a digging problem. Once settled down, she's very friendly and likes to be petted. I'll see what I can do about the cuts and sores on her, they don't look severe.

The remaining two puppies - both female, appear to be twins. They're lighter than the other two and have beautiful, ice blue eyes (the other puppies have brown eyes). I think their roles are the most interesting because they work in concert. One of the girls, THE ONE WHO BIT ME is the protector. It's her job to keep the clan safe. She growls non-stop and barks. I was surprised to see she wouldn't back down and held her own, as much as a puppie could anyway. Now her sister is the communicator. While in the kennel, she constantly howled and cried out, hoping the mother would come to their rescue. She moved from place to place, each time in a different direction - I'm not making this up, she had it down to a science. I also noticed that she would cry whenever her twin sister moved away from her which wasn't that often. It's amazing to see how symbiotic their relationship is, I have a new found respect for twins now.

I got them boxed up and brought them home to a nice warm place they can temporarily call home until I find placement for them in a rescue shelters in the city. My oldest dog Nike is very maternal and would like to get close to them, but they're not having it. The protector has already stood her ground and snapped at Nike, so she's keeping her distance but cries a lot because she wants to nurse them. Baxter looks at them as a threat so he's become my new best friend, never leaving my side and giving me the "I'm still your number one, right" look. It's going to be a long couple of days.

I'm going to give them a bath and hopefully get them adjusted to people and other dogs within the next few days, that is if they don't stage a coup while i'm sleeping tonight.

My big tree: the Saint Nicholas massacre

For the past few days, I've working on what I can only describe as the biggest fucking Christmas-Holiday-Non-jew-Kwanzarific, 9 ft. tall tree. I bought it kinda as an oversight (no pun intended) because it was sitting in the 6-7 ft. bin. Upon getting the tree situated in the stand, I measured it at 10.5 ft tall. In short, I have a mall tree in my living room.

Now as things usually go, I decided to take the "tree whisperer" approach to decorating the tree — let the tree decided what "IT" wants to look like by communicating with me on a spiritual level. You people with any percentage of Native American in you (at least 1/32nd) can appreciate what I'm talking about.

So, as I sat staring at it waiting for some sign, I had this random thought of myself being this huge, farmed tree minding my own bee's wax when, WHAM! Joe "Crazy Cutter" Stranger comes and chops off my footing and only essential life support. Then he and his cronies do a quick grab-and-dash, putting me, a force of nature at 9 ft. in a tiny plastic netting breaking limbs and making me uncomfortable.

I go into shock and pass out. Passing out is nature's way of saying "Damn, that's fucked up...go to sleep, baby."

I come to moving in a truck filled with my brethren, stacked one on top another heading away from my homeland (Sounds kinda familiar, huh). I ask, "what's going on, what's happening to us?" No one knows All around me I see is green and feel the horrible sensation of my own tree sap leaking from my butchered stump.

We arrive at a marketplace, already I can see others already lined-up and being looked over. Some are pushed aside while others are sorted by size and features then placed into holding cells. At this point I'm pretty shaken by the ordeal, I want to rustle my way to freedom but alas, I'm trapped while I await my fate. Several hours pass, someone comes by and hoses us down. If feels good, but so unnatural. I'm exposed and at the mercy of their every whim. There's only one thing on my mind at this point...K-I-L-L the man who did this to me - ooh wee, somebody's gonna get a splinter!

For days I sit, the routine never changes. people come by, look and stare. Touching and grabbing, pushing and turning over and over, time after time...there's no reprieve. Still crammed in my netting my options are limited. I begin to study my enemy, their roots are mobile, each a different type and color. They look pleased to own one of my kind, a trophy as it may. I sense my opportunity for freedom, I must play "tom" to the "man," it's the only way to make it out of here.

The next day, I initiate my strategy. I stand straight and use my height and weight to push my brothers down. My stature and sheer size makes them look small in comparison. More touching and prodding, I realize my plan is working. Next thing I know someone picks me up and takes me towards a bargaining table.

These "people" speak a strange tongue. They use remnants of my ancestors as barter to trade me to another. The shop keep grins and lays me flat on the table. I then hear a familiar sound...the buzzing of the stomp cutter is back. I scream in terror, but no one hears me.

The buzzing gets closer, I want to move but can't...nowhere to go. I draw myself inward, maybe I make it go away somehow by just fortifying myself. My efforts are in vain, again they cut away at my flesh, the pain unbearable, I slip into unconciousness.

I awaken this time standing upright. The human who now owns me has placed me in a healing bath. I sense a kindness and respect for my situation, at this point I decide to break the silence, plead with it for my freedom.

"HELP ME, PLEASE!"

It says nothing.

"I DON'T BELONG HERE, I WAS TAKEN AGAINST MY WILL."

Still, nothing. It walks around looking intently at me.

"FOR PITY'S SAKE, HAVE A HEART...PLEASE HELP ME." I'm angry now and my tone gets more severe. "GODDAMIT, LET ME OUT OF THIS HELL HOLE!"

Again it just stares. I hate these people, I want them all dead.

The throbbing of my bloody stomp is a constant reminder of my ordeal and I look for ways to comfort myself. The water is soothing and the sunlight is a welcome feeling - although it's a cruel reminder of my forceful capture and enslavement.

Over the next few days I realize I'm a token and will become the fodder of the man's sadistic ways. As I sit slowly dying, he adorns me with ceremonial beads, ribbons, ornaments and hot beads of light. Cloth is draped around me to hide the hideous remain of my stump and items are placed in triumph around it. Rhythmic chanting can be heard all around me.

"O Tannenbaum, O Tannenbaum, how lovely are your branches," I hear throughout the day. I loathe this chanting, it's a true mark of my ultimate demise.

Ok, I admit it's a little morbid, but I did have that flash when I started thinking about my tree. Now whether it was just my twisted mind or the tree speaking through me, you decide.

Anyway, to memorialize the senseless killing of it and it's kind, I chose a red and gold theme. Yeah, it's gonna die a slow death, but on the bright side, it does look really good.

Next time you see a Christmas-Holiday-Non-Jew-Kwanzarific tree, think about this tale of the tree that (may have) spoken to me and it's sacrifice and say, "thanks" for taking one for the team.