Ursus Canis - 06.27.02 - 10:55 pm
Look!

Now I'm all depressed. Cherry 75 is right...people need to stop fucking dying.

Did I even mention that my mom used to party w/The Who whenever they came to Miami? She somehow managed to sneak backstage for one show and after that, they always invited her back when they were in town.

To this day, I tell people that my real father is Pete Townshend. How cool would that be, yo? I'm a lovechild.

Anyway, my dog is acting crazy tonight. She's a big all black Shepard/Lab mix and pushing thirteen years. People often mistake her for a bear, actually. She can make noise like one, too.

She must be in a pissy mood or something. These dumb fucks who obviously don't own a calender are setting off fireworks and my bear-dog hates fireworks. A lot. She gets snappy and pushy and tries to sit on you.

When she was younger, she would crawl onto the dining room table during thunder storms. My girl weighs over 100 pounds so you know how fun it was to get her down.

Now, usually, she's the most gentle creature around the other animals. Hell, if there's a stranded baby bird or squirrel in the yard, she'll pick it up and bring it to us. And, later, when we're nursing said abandoned baby back to health, she'll chase away any nosey cats.

But just ten minutes ago I had to pull her off a cat. She had him pinned to the ground and was making her bear noises. I think he was too close to her food or something. He wasn't hurt, just a little drooly.

I've never seen my bear-dog hurt another living thing, but I'm still freaked out, you know?

Then there was that time Howie wandered into the house and got too close to the dogs' biscuits. Bear-Dog chased him back into his pen and had him cornered. That scared the piss out of me.

My mom says she's old and cranky, but she'd never hurt anything. I pretty much believe her, but still....

I like my peace.

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