Come for the politics, stay for the snark.

Come for the politics, stay for the snark.

Usually wrong but never in doubt

Wow, you are pre-disappointed. How surprising.

Shallow, uninformed, and lacking identity

Accountability, motherfuckers.

But frankly mr. cole, I’ll be happier when you get back to telling us to go fuck ourselves.

I’d like to think you all would remain faithful to me if i ever tried to have some of you killed.

The cruelty is the point; the law be damned.

I don’t care how fun he is after a few whiskies. fuck that guy.

I did not have this on my fuck 2020 bingo card.

Where tasty lettuce and good mustard aren’t elitist.

Our job is not to persuade republicans but to defeat them.

This is all too absurd to be reality, right?

And now I have baud making fun of me. this day can’t get worse.

Consistently wrong since 2002

Call the National Guard if your insurrection lasts more than four hours.

This has so much WTF written all over it that it is hard to comprehend.

Not all heroes wear capes.

It’s not even safe to go out and pick up 2 days worth of poop anymore.

I really should read my own blog.

Well, except the wingnuts. fuck those guys!

I’d try pessimism, but it probably wouldn’t work.

Women: they get shit done

A snarling mass of vitriolic jackals

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RIP, Doug Mataconis

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Via the always excellent Outside the Beltway comes the terrible news that Doug Mataconis has died:

Jazz Shaw drew my attention to a post on Doug’s Facebook feed from last evening:

To all of Doug’s friends, it is with a very sad heart and deep regret that we share that Doug passed away. We and the rest of the extended family appreciate all of the support that everyone has shown for Doug over the years.

Alas, I have no further details and have not yet found any other confirmation of the news but have no reason to doubt that it’s true.

Despite his long association with this blog—he started posting here in May 2010 and contributed a staggering 16,483 posts and likely twice that many comments—I did not know Doug well. I had lunch with him once shortly after he joined the team and saw him a handful of times at CPAC.

Doug was an interesting character, someone with whom I rarely agreed as he was a self-proclaimed libertarian, but when I did agree with him, it was virtually 100% agreement. He was funny, though, quick witted, enjoyed life and it showed through his writing, and at the same time frustrating because he loathed the modern GOP and would write posts excoriating them and then veer off and say something to the extent of “but the Democrats are no better” and all I could think was “YOU WERE SO DAMNED CLOSE.”

All, that aside, from my interactions with him I can say he was a good man and will be missed.

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Furry Friends: Van Buren’s Furry Foursome

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Van Buren lost his beloved dog less than a month ago, and last Tuesday he sent me a photo of their new pup, along with this lovely note:

I know what you mean about yesterday not being a good day. We lost our 15 year old dog, Kendall, on June 5. On the 26th we picked up this pup, who is officially Rosalita, but I’m going to call her Rosie.

She is doing fine, getting settled, and has accepted my offer of spoiling her rotten for the next 15 years.

Rosalita, who they call Rosie.  Circle of life, it seems.  I asked if he would be willing to write a little something to introduce Rosalita, and he did.

🐾

Stories of Kendall, Jackson, Fiona, and finally Rosalita

by Van Buren

When the lockdown began, we had three dogs.

Kendall was 14, a Cavachon, and as sweet and mellow as any dog ever. Kendall was a musk ox disguised as a little dog. The other dogs hated the cold, but she loved nothing more than slowly plodding through snow, nose to the ground.

Jackson was 13, a Miniature Schnauzer/ Maltese mix, who was equal parts feisty terrier and affectionate lap dog. We had had both dogs since they were puppies.

We also had Fiona, a twelve year old Lhasa Apso that we had rescued when she was 6. Fiona had been a breeder in a puppy mill, and had no idea how to be a pet, but by copying Jackson’s every move, she caught on fairly fast.

For seven years, she followed Jackson around. When he ate, she would eat. If he wanted to go outside, she wanted to go outside. And so on. To this day, she is nervous about being touched by people. If you pick her up, she has the endearing habit of shaking herself as though trying to dry off. One of my sons says she is ridding herself of the taint of human flesh.

Within a week of the lockdown, we had to take Jackson to the vet, for what turned out to be the first of a long series of visits as his organs began failing. He finally passed in September. I have had eight dogs in my life, including my childhood, and he was the one I loved the most.

Since Fiona was so attached to him, we assumed she would be affected more than Kendall by his passing, but she barely seemed to notice. She simply started following Kendall everywhere. Kendall, on the other hand, very clearly knew something was wrong. There is a picture of Kendall and Fiona in the calendar, taken the day after Jackson died. Kendall is in what we thought of as Jackson’s spot. It was like she thought that was the most likely place to find him.

On Halloween, we had to rush Kendall to the vet. She had been coping with Cushing’s disease for years, but now her liver was enlarged.  With medication, she more or less held her own, but she was losing weight, seemed to have dementia, and was becoming incontinent. I wasn’t going to repeat all the tests that we subjected Jackson to. I brought her to the vet the day after Memorial Day to ask his opinion.

The vet said he thought it was time. She was down to 16 lbs. She had been 25 a year earlier. We waited a few days until a vet could come to the house to euthanize her, just as we had done with Jackson.

That night, Fiona began barking. The only way to get her stop was to bring her into our room. She refused to be left alone, and woke up every night around 3.

She needed a companion. Thus, the frantic search that ended with the adoption of Rosalita last Saturday. Rosie is a 4 month old Dachshund and….who-knows-what mix. She is doing great adjusting, with the bizarre quirk – and I am curious if anyone else has ever had a dog do this – that she gets furious when Fiona eats.

Rosalita frantically barks and growls. It does not matter if she has food herself. She does not seem to mind if Fiona approaches her bowl. But if we give food to Fiona, she goes nuts.

As I finish this, Rosie and Fiona are sleeping at my feet, lying back to back. Fiona stays downstairs and sleeps through the night, as she has done every night since we brought Rosie home.

🐾 I think this will work out.

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A Totally True, Actually Happened, and Never Before Told Story of Bixby!

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Last night in a comment to Cole’s Thank You All post, former lurker and newest full time commenter – no pressure – CindyH stated:

As a lurker, I’ll come out and say how much I’m going to miss the stories and pictures of such wonderful doggies.

Well, CindyH, we have at least one more Bixby story for you and everyone else: mine!

This should also clear up why TaMara considered asking me to do the post yesterday, because as far as I know, I’m the only front pager who actually met Bixby.

Several of you, okay maybe one of you, okay maybe no one remembers, but way, way, way back in the before times of January 2019 I mentioned that I would be doing a keynote address on information warfare at a conference on information threats in Colorado. That conference was scheduled for April 2019, but got bumped because the resort had over scheduled Spring weddings. So we rescheduled for October 2019. Guess what happened? We had to cancel because forest fires were threatening the resort. And, once again, we rescheduled for March 2020. I bet you can’t guess what happened then???

When I thought I was going to be flying through Denver in April, I told TaMara and asked if she wanted to connect. Instead of flying in Tuesday and out Friday AM, I’d stay through the weekend and fly out Sunday afternoon. If the Avs were playing I’d get hockey tickets, I could meet the dogs and the rest of the menagerie, etc. She said sure. The Avs were not playing that week at home, but when they told me we were rescheduling for October, I checked the next seasons schedule and there was a Friday night home game, so we’re in business. So the beginning of October 2019 rolls around and I’ve been sitting on non-stop round trip tickets to Denver on Southwest. I’ve already done the no charge reschedule once, the woman in charge of the program was basically told to mind her own business by the person handling payments when the former told the latter to reimburse me already, so I wasn’t going to get reimbursed for the airplane tickets I’d paid for back in February, and we’re once again getting rescheduled. To top it all off, I had a sinus infection and I’m just starting the antibiotics. So I feel like crap, I’ve got plane tickets I can’t get reimbursed for, I’ve got hockey tickets I can’t get a refund on, I’ve got a hotel reservation a few miles from TaMara’s I can cancel, I’ve not worked out for four days and I wasn’t going to be able to for two more weeks because of the antibiotics.

I texted TaMara, told her I’d just transfer the e-tickets to her, and she could go see the game with a local friend on me. TaMara, ever pragmatic, texted back I should just change the plane tickets to fly in Friday morning and we’d catch the game, hang out Saturday and Sunday, and I’d fly home. Basically a mini-vacation. So that’s what I did.

Till now this story has not been told. Why you might ask? Because we were afraid John would be beside himself, because I got to meet Penelope Pearl the Duck. I am not kidding… However, TaMara said it was okay for me to tell it now. I won’t post the pictures I took of Penelope Pearl so as not to upset John too much.

Anyhow, here’s where Bixby enters the story.

I arrive at the airport in Denver, figure out where TaMara is meeting me, and head there. TaMara is driving her plug in hybrid Kona, which is a small SUV. In the back seat is Bixby and Scout. I first give sritchees through the back seat hatch while I’m putting my bags in the back and then I get in the front seat. At this point you can hear the SUV groan. I’m honestly not sure the Kona is rated for two Great Danes and me. And off we go. First stop the Jewish cemetery in Golden to visit my grandparents’ and my aunt’s graves.

Bixby decided he wanted me to know who was in charge. And it wasn’t me despite my sitting up front next to his momma!!!! So what does he do? With his butt still on the back seat he leans over the headrest and puts his head on top of my head and then goes dead weight with it. That’s right we drove for the next 45 minutes with me wearing Bixby for a hat! Or Bixby using my head for a chin rest! After the cemetery we went to a park across the street to exercise Bixby and Scout a bit before heading off for lunch. And, yes dear, gentle reader, I had Bixby’s head on mine all the way to the restaurant. And all the way from there to TaMara’s. It is a very good thing I do neck exercises on shoulder day!

TaMara did stop the car several times to try to get him to stop. But after the third or fourth attempt he clearly wasn’t going to. And it wast just funny.

Did I mention that he drooled? We got to the restaurant – really good BBQ place – and go in. TaMara looks properly put together. I look like I’d just stuck my head in a vat of industrial solvent…

For this to really make sense, for the sheer hilarity of it, you need to understand that despite me being 5’11 and usually weighing between 265 and 275 depending on how clean I’m eating, and at that point since I’d been ill and hadn’t been working out, I was probably up around 280, Bixby’s head was still bigger than mine! To give you some idea of the relative sizes, here are some pictures. This first one is from Saturday morning at TaMara’s when Bixby and Scout wanted attention before we headed off for the day. I appreciated TaMara preserving my secret identity by how she framed the picture.

A Totally True, Actually Happened, and Never Before Told Story of Bixby!

This second picture was actually taken on Friday night after dinner. I’ve made a slight revision to it to preserve my secret identity. Let me know in the comments if you can tell.

A Totally True, Actually Happened, and Never Before Told Story of Bixby! 1

I think you get the idea just how big Bixby was. Imagine, if you can, having Bixby use your head as a chin rest all afternoon.

And that is my Bixby story!

He was a very big good boy!

Open thread!

PS: If you’re wondering who the Avalanche played that night, it was the Mighty Ducks. Because that just makes sense given the rest of the story.

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Just So Weird

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My house feels so empty right now. Yes, Lily is below me in her dog bed, and Steve is behind me, but you just don’t realize what a presence an animal has until they are gone.

For the last six months, Rosie was no real joy. She was having potty issues, getting stuck everywhere, just being a general nuisance. But now that she is gone, it is dawning on me how much of my time she consumed. At least ten times today I have stopped what I was doing to listen for Rosie to see if she was in distress somewhere or couldn’t get up the stairs. I haven’t mopped once today, but I still keep turning on all the lights everywhere to make sure I have not stepped in anything. I don’t smell Murphy’s oil soap or nature’s miracle.

It hit home last night as I was getting ready for bed. I didn’t need to shut my office door so she couldn’t get stuck underneath the desk. I didn’t need to close my bedroom door so she could not pee on the floor and have me step in it first thing in the morning. And I know this sounds weird, but not having to do those things makes me sad.

I just feel like the tribe is incomplete. I wonder when I am going to be sent my next stray and what it is going to be.

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Thank You All

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I just wanted to say thank you all to everyone for your kind words for me and Tamara. More for her, though, because it was so sudden, whereas mine was a long time coming. I really wish she loved smaller dogs and did not have to go through this heartbreak so often. Those big guys are just such lovable lugs, but that much love is hard to haul around and they don’t last as long.

Again, thank you.

And for you lurkers, stop being strangers.

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RIP Bixby

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Respite Open Thread: Bixby Update 1

I’m just going to fucking rip the bandage off today, because we are already grieving Rosie. I was going to make another FP write this for me (looking at you Adam) but it didn’t seem fair.

Bixby died in his sleep yesterday after a very brief, but intense illness. As many of you may remember, he had an adverse reaction to (or overdose of) Maropitant citrate two years ago that left him paralyzed. He was amazing and willed himself to recover, but his health was never robust after that and I truly knew I was treasuring each day I got with him after that. He gave me seven great years and the best hugs.

I’m about as messed up as I have ever been right now, but I needed to let you know because you’ve been on the journey since he was a pup and I’m not going to want to talk about it the rest of the week. Just hunker down with Scout and grieve our loss.

Hug your critters for me today…

 

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RIP Rosie Cole (2005??-2021)

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RIP Rosie Cole (2005??-2021)

In her typical inimitable form, Rosalita aka Rosie Cole, grumped her way off the mortal coil this morning at 11:15 am. She passed pleasantly under the care of the most wonderful vet staff in America. We first gave her a sedative to relax her and Rosie felt no pain for the first time in a long while. I realized then that it was the first time I had seen her truly relaxed and comfortable for months. I pet her and talked to her, rubbed her ears, and just let her be peaceful for a while. When we finally euthanized her after she was comfortable, her death was near instantaneous. From the time Dr. Stone pulled back and aspirated the needle, drawing a little bloom of blood into the poison, and then injecting the medicine, it took 3-4 seconds for her to pass. I had my hand on her and felt her sigh and she was gone.

As with everything involving Rosie, the decision to put her down was difficult. Truth be told, I probably should have done it a month agao, but I am of the belief if there are still good days to be had, you owe it to them. Unfortunately, we had reached the point where there just were not any good days left. She was almost if not completely blind, had a very difficult time walking, and was confused and getting stuck everywhere- behind the toilet, in the railings on the banister, in between the deck steps, in the wires under the computer desk, etc. This weekend, when she had a lot of difficulty getting up, I decided it was time.

It was a hard decision because Rosie never really liked me, and although I loved her, I didn’t like her that much a lot of the time. So my mind played tricks on me- if I put her down to early, was I doing it for me because she was a difficult dog? Would I put Lily down that early? And because of this doubt, I probably let her suffer more than I should have. It’s such a difficult decision.

But enough about the grim stuff, let’s remember the good things. As you may remember, Rosie joined the household over a decade ago as I was driving through the country and saw this white thing in the middle of the road running around in circles. I got close, stopped the Subaru, got out to inspect her (by now I knew it was a dog), and I chased her around the car and she jumped in the driver’s seat and said “Let’s go!” And so we did.

She had clearly been abandoned as she had no caller and this was a dumping zone, but I still made pictures of her and posted them everywhere for a ten mile radius, and stopped at every farm house in that zone, asking if anyone was missing a dog, and was told at almost every house “No, but congratulations on your new dog.”

Rosie had clearly been abused, ate while lying down because she had been crated so much of her life, was not leash trained, and had probably been kicked a lot based on the fact that she bit my foot every time I walked by her for the first couple of years. For the first year, my friends all tried to talk me into putting her down because she was vicious, and one friend named her Snarls Barkley and it stuck.

I disagreed with everyone, and didn’t think she was mean or vicious, she was just angry and needed space and to not be fucked with. She was never a problem with Lily or Tunch, and she and Thurston became good play buddies and she became downright BFF with Steve- they would share beds and cuddles for hours until one of them realized what they were doing and would fuck off in shame.

Over time, she calmed down a little, although she was eventually banned from the bed because she bit my feet every time I moved, and she became a pretty good dog. She liked to play, loved her treats and her food, and was adorable when she got the zooms. She became a good part of the pack.

RIP Rosie Cole (2005??-2021) 3

I can say without hesitation that she never really liked me, and on her best days I could expect her to tolerate me pretty well. She was not a lapdog, didn’t want my cuddles, would ocassionally suffer the indignity of me petting her, and we became pretty functional roommates with clear boundaries.

On the other hand, she did have her people that she ABSOLUTELY adored. She just loved my dad to pieces, becoming putty any time he came around.

RIP Rosie Cole (2005??-2021) 1

RIP Rosie Cole (2005??-2021) 2

She adored Gerald, and would race to him any time he came over and just be on him like ugly on an ape the entire time he was here. She really liked Devon, although at first Devon had to talk in a deep voice to her because if she used her normal voice Rosie got really angry. Over time, though, Rosie started to love her, too.

And then there was Tammy. Rosie just loved Tammy. Would spend an entire weekend following her around the house, wagging her tail. It simultaneously made me infuriated with jealousy and thrilled that she was capable of love. I guess Tammy just has a way with difficult people, which could explain our relationship.

I gave Rosie a nice bath this morning, in part to get her clean, in part because it is the only time she submits to me and I can touch her and talk to her without her just leaving me. Rosie was a SUPER SMART dog, and on bath days if I did not do her first, I would not see her for three days. But once I got her into the sink, she basically submitted as if to say “Alright you fucker, you got me, let’s get this over with.” So we had a nice talk, I dried her off and gave her some treats, and we went to the vet.

I will always have a place in my heart for her, and I love that she had such a strong personality that superceded her instincts as a Jack Russell Terrier. I would never have chosen her to be my pet, but the universe decides the animal you need is not always the animal you want.

Rest well, old friend. We did our best.

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