The Staring Contest

Seeing as how my last post was a little harsh, I’ll try to keep this one light.

We, myself and my better half, have two cats. One is Grady. Grady is super cool. He sleeps a lot, likes to play, eats everything, loves to cuddle and love up on people, and has the personality of the guy at the bar that everyone knows and never has to buy a drink.

And then there’s the other one. Gracie. Gracie is a manx, skittish, sleeps sporadically and usually not when I’m asleep, and has the personality of Garfield in a world where lasagna doesn’t exist and every day is Monday.

The most obnoxious aspect of the special bond I have with Gracie is her staring habit. I know, cats stare at things. This cat stares at ME. All day and night. From any distance or angle. At every hour of the day or night. If I glance at her, she’s already staring. Gracie is probably staring at me as I write this sentence.

Let me draw a picture. One night, I’m cuddled up in bed with my special lady. 2:30 AM, I wake up for whatever reason. I open my eyes and lift my head. On the other side of my girlfriend is Gracie, the the demon from Hell, sitting up, just staring directly into my soul, which I’m sure she thinks will be delicious. I have pictures of that moment. I have pictures of many moments. She sticks her head out from around the edge of a door, sits in a corner and stares at me, lays down on my better half and stares into my eyes.

Gracie will probably try to kill me at some point. On the other hand, she also tries to fight Grady every night and loses, on an epic scale. So I’m not super worried. Until she drags me into the underworld.

But I love Grady and Gracie equally. And they love me just as much. At least they do when it’s time to eat.

Stay classy, and I’ll see you at the next stop.

The Stray

I’m currently in the Rio Grande Valley for work. It’s an interesting community and culture with a lot to offer, and a lot to stay away from. While I was on a site, I saw a medium-sized dog lapping up water from a muddy puddle.

I’ve mentioned before that I love dogs. I’ve also mentioned recently, yesterday, that I’m dying, from the plague, which is actually just the flu, and I’m a baby. So with the combination of my love for canines and my weakened state from my illness, you can imagine how I felt for this dog. I had a break while my tests were running, so I called the poor little guy over. Of course, he came right over, anything for the hope of a scrap of food. As he sauntered closer I noticed his ribs were showing and he had no collar. He was covered in fleas, extremely malnourished, and mastered the whole sad puppy eyes thing.

While I’m contemplated how I’m going to sneak this dog in and out of a hotel every night and take him with me on the road every day and love him and protect him and care for him forever, he caught a whiff of something and wandered off to another place. Clearly a one-sided relationship. It was never going to work between us anyway.

Now for the serious part of this. How the hell do people do this to dogs? Or animals in general? If you’re going to neglect your pet, then you don’t get to have a pet. If you can’t handle a pet in your life, then you don’t get to have a pet. If you have a pet and I see it on the side of the road with no collar drinking water out of a muddy puddle and his ribs are showing, then you’re a piece of shit and I’m going to call you out.

Take care of your animals. Do your research before bringing one into your life. You should know ahead of time if you have the time and resources for a pet. Animals deserve better and you don’t want the trouble that animal neglect can bring you. Also, how hard is it to just be a decent human being? Have some damned compassion. I can’t look at other people’s pets without making super annoying baby sounds in my head that I’m sure the animal would love. So have a heart. Animals need all the love they can get and they need it from us. If I can figure that out while my insides are leaking out of my nose because of this stupid flu, then you can figure it out on a good day.

Stay classy, and I’ll see you at the next stop.

The Fluffball

Dogs are incredible creatures. They have a great sense of smell, are intelligent (mostly), beautiful, fast, fun, adorable, and our best friends. When I say dogs, I mean dogs. not your little Chihuahua or Pomeranian rat-dog. I’m talking about medium to large sized dogs, that can actually do something. If you have to carry your dog around then it’s not a dog.

Anyway, our family has always had at least one dog in the household. Even now a large German Shepherd is at my feet gnawing on some kind of rawhide toy. I can’t begin to explain how great it feels to have a dog at my feet, doing dog things, while I write this post. She’s a great dog. She barks when there’s danger, and squirrels, and cars, and flies, and really just any change in atmospheric pressure. And I love every bit of it. She eats like a horse, drools everywhere, loves belly rubs, and is my biggest fan (definitely not because I give her table scraps during dinner).

I even love watching her. She might be staring outside at some unseen thing making a sound that can’t be heard by human ears. Maybe she’s passed out moving her legs as if she’s dreaming about chasing this unseen and soundless thing. Perhaps she doesn’t care at all because she’s too busy licking herself, loudly, to be concerned with something so trivial. Just the way she sits and looks up at me with her big brown eyes puts a smile on my face.

It doesn’t hurt that she’s well-trained, does what she’s told, and is loyal to a fault. Or that she’ll eat your tiny rat-dog for a snack. Or that she’s a giant ball of fluff that breaks any cuteness scale out there.

Since my laptop is now dead and charging, I’m having to continue this post on my phone. This means you don’t have to read anymore and I don’t have to write anymore. I’m just going to sit here and listen to this dog choke on whatever piece of rawhide she just chewed off.

Stay classy, and I’ll see you the next stop.