So, with Kate out of the house for a spell, we have found we cannot leave well enough alone. I’ve been feeling my next pet out there looking for me for some time, and I’m thinking I may have found her.
This is Wendy:
I’m not sure if we’ll get her; there are a couple of other applications in for her, but I’m hopeful. I went down to the shelter in Detroit to meet her Thursday, and man — you think you’ve seen it all, and then you visit a Detroit animal shelter. I honestly don’t know how people who work in these places do it, but I expect it’s a matter of getting hardened, and also deaf. Not to mention growing accustomed to, for example, people like the woman who walked in midway through my application interview, looking for a place to drop off her cat, which needed to be euthanized. She was old, in her 60s at least (although it’s possible she was just a 45-year-old crackhead, or ex-crackhead), with several tattoos of spiders crawling up her neck and across her face. Alternating-color nail polish. Deeply wrinkled. She didn’t want the cremation option at $130, because she didn’t have the money. She didn’t want to see the cat afterward either, lord no.
Here were some of the interview questions:
Did I understand that dogs required veterinary care that could total $100 a year or more?
Where would the dog sleep? Inside?
Was I employed?
How did I intend to treat chewing or destructive behavior? (“Um, chew toys?”)
What would we do with the dog if we had to leave town?
Who would be responsible for her care?
And so on. I felt myself rising in esteem with every inquiry, and stood there, next to Spider Woman, in my Bermuda shorts and clean black T-shirt thinking, “These people are not going to kick too hard about us not having a fenced yard.”
In fact, I think we may have vaulted to the top of the list. I tried to get another picture of Wendy during our visit back in the kennel, but she wouldn’t hold still. I think I captured the most important part, though:
She’s not quite a year old, and has spent the last four months at the shelter. She was picked up as a stray, and had an old fracture of her right foreleg surgically repaired to the best of the vet’s ability. The office staff seem to think very highly of her, and like all Jack Russells, she thinks very highly of herself, too.
We’ll see. If she goes home with us, it won’t be for another week, as I have to take a short work-related road trip next Wednesday (photo posting only, I fear). This didn’t seem to be a problem.
Wendy, you silly pup. Are you my next dog?
No bloggage tonight. I’m thinking about dogs right now.
Crazycatlady said on June 21, 2013 at 1:14 am
I’ve been a shelter volunteer for over 8 years. I get people all the time saying “I can’t stand it, it’s too sad. How do you do it?” Well, my thing is that, yes, we can’t save them all. But the ones we can will have a better life. And the ones we can’t save don’t suffer needlessly. I’ve seen horribly abused animals learn to accept love and seen injured animals come back from the brink.I’ve also seen a great group of Investigators working to bring animals Justice. No act of kindness is wasted and my fellow volunteers do an enormous amount of care. Yes, it’s noisy, crowded and busy. But I love it. My health prevents me from doing much shelter work anymore. So I volunteer at every opportunity to assist in fund raising such as Mutt March, Telethons and such.
Dexter said on June 21, 2013 at 1:15 am
Our Jack Russell, Noelle Belle, is eleven years old. I will miss her dearly when we go off to Florida in a few weeks. I hope you get Wendy.
Brandon said on June 21, 2013 at 2:13 am
I also hope you get Wendy.
David C. said on June 21, 2013 at 5:36 am
Our neighbors recently adopted a rescue dog. The poor thing had been horribly mistreated – there was evidence that several ribs had been broken and scars they think were from cigarette burns. Yet he is the friendliest little guy you would ever want to meet. Dogs are forgiving of us.
It’s been great fun watching the neighbors with their new dog. He is some nondescript terrier and an expert escape artist. We’ll see Eddie take a runner with them chasing after at least twice a day.
alex said on June 21, 2013 at 7:04 am
What we thought was a ferile cat hanging out at our house probably isn’t ferile after all. It took her a long time, but she trusts us enough to want to be petted. I suspect she was abused. Here’s hoping she’s spayed.
What a cute dog! And she couldn’t find a better home.
coozledad said on June 21, 2013 at 7:06 am
That dog looks like it was built to bore holes in things. She might even be a mouser.
beb said on June 21, 2013 at 7:56 am
Speaking of dogs, Google News reports that Kim Kardashian reveals that she and Kanye West have decided to name their baby “North.” As in North West. …. I want to smack her so hard that her mother gets a black eye.
Claudia said on June 21, 2013 at 8:18 am
I hope you get Wendy!
We adopted a rescue last October…a foxhound. She’s big and beautiful and she’s incredibly gentle and loving. No fear of her being around my grandchildren…unless their being licked to death counts. I’ve been told that rescues are grateful for their homes…but we’re grateful to have a dog that runs to us with delight when we get home from work, craves being petted and loved, and is so sweet and gentle.
Good luck with your new little one!
brian stouder said on June 21, 2013 at 8:27 am
Here’s rooting for the return of dog days at the nn.c co-prosperity sphere
Dorothy said on June 21, 2013 at 8:27 am
I will wish upon a star that Wendy is yours very soon! I can’t imagine life without a dog anymore. I think Lucy will be our one and only cat, but dogs… well, everyone here knows. No explanation needed.
I thought once Augie got sprayed by that skunk 2 or 3 weeks ago that I’d never be able to bend over and kiss him by that ear. After waiting a bit I’m doing it again. The smell is mostly faded. I just won’t be giving him any kisses after a hard rain. The ears and soft top of a dog’s head were made for kissing.
Dorothy said on June 21, 2013 at 8:28 am
p.s. the picture of Wendy’s wagging tail is the BEST!
Michael said on June 21, 2013 at 8:41 am
The dog chooses you.
Julie Robinson said on June 21, 2013 at 8:54 am
Wendy looks like a sweetheart and I can tell she’s already won yours.
Coincidentally, last night I started listening to a new doggy book, The Art of Racing in the Rain. Did someone here recommend it? I can already tell I’ll be weeping at the end.
Since we’re in an animal mood, here’s a few animal puns: http://mashable.com/2013/06/20/animal-puns/
Deborah said on June 21, 2013 at 9:32 am
What a cutie! Wendy looks like the perfect dog for you, I hope she ends up at the Derringer household.
I’m a cat person, but the one we have left will be our last due to my husband’s allergies, which have gotten worse the last few years. I have the cat with me in Santa Fe to give my husband some relief while he works in Chicago. The cat will be 16 in October.
We’re having our chimney swept latter this morning, I hope they don’t make a mess.
Heather said on June 21, 2013 at 9:37 am
I’m a cat person too but there are some very cute dogs out there, especially Wendy! Good luck.
LAMary said on June 21, 2013 at 9:53 am
I’m a dog and cat person. The current alliances between my dogs and cats are interesting and very efficient. Max, who is big and dim hangs with Albert the cat who is big and brilliant. Smokey the Lab hangs with Anna, the sweet little orange cat. When she starts squeaking at 5:16 (she must have closck somewhere) to signal it’s time for the cats to eat, Smokey hustles Max to the door to go outside because Max can’t be trusted with cat food. Amelia, who doesn’t like any of the other animals, glares at all of them with contempt which is what a lot of cats do.
I hope you get Wendy. Talking to a dog is very satisfying. They listen very intently and in my experience they seem flattered that you’re taking the time to talk to them.
brian stouder said on June 21, 2013 at 10:35 am
Sounds like me!
Dexter said on June 21, 2013 at 10:35 am
My “lunging Labrador” (apologies to n nall) is also a rescue dog.
She’s a wild one still, after two + years in our care. She’s a runner. She ran 22 miles one long night, that’s how many miles I drove around town trying to corral her, anyway. Finally she ran out of gas and a cop captured her for me. That was 14 months ago and she only escaped one time since. I use triple security with her now, she’s chained to my body when she goes outside. So far, so good. But I love this dog and again, it will kill me to leave my friend in the doggie home when we go away in a few weeks. This Labbie is also a rescue dog.
Peter said on June 21, 2013 at 10:51 am
Beb, if the kid’s middle name would be Bynorth, it could be pretty cool.
Otherwise, it’s cringeworthy.
nancy said on June 21, 2013 at 10:52 am
Saw a tweet this a.m. that said, “Sooner or later, North West will have her name changed to Delta.”
Bitter Scribe said on June 21, 2013 at 11:05 am
Nancy, I hope you get the dog. Or if not Wendy, another who will be dear to your heart. And Dog bless you for being willing to take in an animal.
A cat adoption recently gave me one of the few pieces of good news I’ve had recently. I think I’ve posted here before about my friend who committed suicide. In his note, he asked the police to ask me to take care of his cat. I can’t take her in because I’m allergic, so I called my downstairs neighbor. She has severe allergies too, but she agreed to take the cat temporarily. Her husband, a big, gruff Austrian guy, was even worse, grumbling as I handed over the cage that he didn’t want it and I should have talked to him instead of his wife.
Four or five days later, I left a message on her voicemail saying that my friend’s family were arriving to settle his affairs, but I didn’t think they’d want the cat (they all live out of the country). I promised to take the cat to a shelter if I couldn’t place her with the family.
Ten minutes later, my phone rang. “Don’t you even THINK about taking Bambina to a shelter!” I then had to sit through a 20-minute description of every cute thing the cat did over the last few days, including being sung to in German by her husband.
The next time I saw the husband, I asked, “So, how’s the cat?” He shrugged and grunted, “Eh, she’s doing better.”
My friend’s family was really grateful that the cat has a good home because he really loved her. And I’m glad too. It would have broken my heart if I’d had to deliver her to a place where she’d run the risk of being put down.
adrianne said on June 21, 2013 at 11:08 am
Wendy seems like a great dog, here’s hoping you jump to the top of the responsible parents’ list!
brian stouder said on June 21, 2013 at 11:17 am
Thread win for Bitter Scribe!!
Excellent news, indeed
Charlotte said on June 21, 2013 at 11:23 am
Wendy! Wendy must come home with you! (I have proven *not* to be the person to bring along when you want an objective 2nd opinion.)
We are in the twilight of the dogs here. Two French Brittanies who ran so hard in their early years that they’re both crippled up with arthritis now. My older dog has also, these past few weeks, started wanting always to be in the same room or on the same couch as I am … he follows me around all day. He’s 13, and these guys usually go to 14, maybe 15. Will be sad — he’s the dog my brother got when we moved into our townhouse in 2000.
But I am a terrible person who keeps looking at shelter dogs online — what next? A corgi perhaps?
(And Claudia — my parents foxhunted when I was a kid, and I was half-raised by the master of foxhounds, so it always startles me to see them a) solitary and not in a pack, and b) as pets. In the spring “Uncle” Bud used to take us down to see the puppies — so adorable. Also, one very clear memory of being 4 or 5 in the yard and suddenly surrounded by the pack — 100 foxhounds who were eye to eye with me. Bud was alarmed, but they just swarmed around me, off to do their jobs.)
nancy said on June 21, 2013 at 11:34 am
I went to a horse show at a working hunt club in Chelsea, Mich. Show season does not coincide with hunt season, but the hounds have to be kept in shape, and one day I sat on my tack trunk and watched the master — or whatever his title was — take them out for some road work. It was about 20 or 30 hounds (NEVER call them dogs), and they were all milling around in the kennel. He gave them a one-word command, and they all snapped to attention. Then he opened the gate and led his horse out, adjusted his tack, mounted, readjusted, while all the hounds stood trembling, watching him. Another one-word command and they came boiling out of the kennel to start their run.
Late in the day, they’d let them run around the show grounds in “couples” — the pups and younger hounds tied to an older one via a short length of chain between their collars. The older ones drag the youngsters along until the students get the idea.
My trainer said they all lived together in the kennels, probably never saw the inside of a house, and were obviously very, very happy. It was a thrill to watch them work, even in the off-season. Such a perfect marriage of human and animal, the latter doing the work each was bred to do.
The other thing I love about fox hunting is how all the fancy stuff has a purpose. The bow ties can be used as splints if anyone falls. The flasks are for whiskey, an effective field anesthetic. The different colored jackets let you know, at a glance at a gallop, where the more experienced members are. And calling the canines “hounds” exclusively distinguishes them from farm dogs met along the way — which are called dogs or curs. It’s a very fast-moving sport, and sometimes you have to hear what someone is yelling through a lot of wind and noise in your ears. “Hound” sounds nothing like “cur,” even under those circumstances.
And in case you’re wondering: The fox almost always wins. A hunter I know told me they might kill two in a season, just to keep the hounds sharp.
Judybusy said on June 21, 2013 at 11:51 am
That Wendy will be a lucky dog indeed if she is adopted by you. But, of course, you and your family will actually be the lucky ones! Love the tail picture, too!
What a great story, Bitter Scribe. It reminded me of another good adoption story. My best friend’s sister died after a long struggle with cancer, and she had a King Charles spaniel, Sparky. My friend was already taking two cats, but an aunt of theirs took Sparky. I still get Sparky updates. About a year before she died, the sister visited and brought Sparky. He and my dog were just adorable together, wrestling and playing in our living room. Whe we heard the news, both my partner and I said we’d take Sparky, but it turned out just fine.
Like LAMary, I’m a dog and cat person. We still have my partner’s two cats, nearly 17 and going strong. I already know there will be another cat or two after their gone. But, I don’t know if we’ll ever get another dog. The one we have just really broke the mold. Dexter, we were just gone for a weekend and I missed her terribly. Just remember the enthusiastic greeting you’ll get!
Bob (not Greene) said on June 21, 2013 at 12:08 pm
Terriers are kind of freaky, but I love our rat terrier, Iggy. I really resisted the whole dog thing, but I finally just said, “OK, go ahead and get one.” Of course, now I’m glad we did. He was born on the Fourth of July, his least favorite day of the year — he spends the whole day under the bed cowering from the bottle rockets, fire crackers and inevitable M-80s. But what he likes most is chasing squirrels out of the yard and sprinting back and forth in an arc from one corner of the yard to another as cars and people go through the alley. Can’t upload a photo, but he kinda looks like this guy http://www.nrta.com/breederswebpages/brownking/peaches.jpg
Oh, he also firmly believes himself to be human.
brian stouder said on June 21, 2013 at 12:14 pm
Nancy’s description of fox hunting reminds me (in a sideways fashion) of the enthralling mixture of strangeness and pleasant enlightenment on offer from (for example) Greenfield Village at Dearborn, minus the element of (old-fashioned) personal danger.
Full dress fox hunting sounds like a cross between a fully costumed adult roll-playing game, and some sort of godless (like yoga!) exercise regimen. Oh well, more power to ‘em, I guess!
Prospero said on June 21, 2013 at 12:37 pm
I like the looks of Wendy. Jack Russells figure in Roddy Doyle’s Barrytown novels. I’ve never understood the dog person/cat person dichotomy. I’ve been blessed with great dogs and great cats for companions, although, in my experience, the best cats of my acquaintance had a lot of dog in their behavior. My raccoon size tabby Jack used to push open the front screen door and come out a couple of blocks from home to meet me when I walked home from work in Athens. Tailproofing is a lot like childproofing. Must be done on all fours.
Deborah: Hope your chimney sweeps sport toppers and tails.
Is Wendy named after the JM Barrie heroine? That black eyepatch reminds me of Spanky’s pal Petey, but it’s on the opposite side. Pit bulls are terriers too, and obviously need human interference to be made mean.
Julie Robinson said on June 21, 2013 at 12:55 pm
Bitter Scribe, thanks for letting us know; I’m sure I wasn’t the only person here who wondered about Bambina. I love that you put aside your own grief to care for your friend’s pet.
The good and bad news is that if a different family gets to adopt Wendy, there will surely be many more good dogs available.
Dorothy said on June 21, 2013 at 1:32 pm
Bitter, I’m so glad your friend’s cat found a good home. I always thought I was allergic to all cats. I’d been inside friends’ homes and sneezed up a storm when they had cats. So nearly 4 years ago when Lucy showed up, I never thought she’d stay permanently. When we brought her in the house I was pleasantly surprised to find out she never made me sneeze.
The little devil slipped out the door while our contractor was there yesterday (new hardwood floors.) I pulled into the driveway at 4:40 PM, immediately started calling her name. Almost instantly she dashed out from under the front porch, circled my car and then ran to the back yard. I saw yellow all over her left front flank. I thought she’d been sprayed by a skunk because Augie’s stain was yellow two weeks ago. I was just dismayed by the yellow stain; lost track of the fact that if she’d been sprayed I would have smelled her before I saw her. But she just found some pollen somewhere and bumped up against that. Once I let her brothers out of the house she came back and let me pick her up, grateful that she was safe and not hit by a car.
Prospero said on June 21, 2013 at 1:51 pm
Reading some of y’all might find interesting. Particularly the Molly Ivins.
Bitter Scribe said on June 21, 2013 at 1:55 pm
Thanks for the good wishes, everyone.
I was just down at my neighbor’s this morning and tried to say hello to Bambina. She promptly dived behind a microwave at the sight of me and refused to come out. Typical. All I did was feed, water and rescue you, you little furball.
Oh well, what’s the joke? “Dogs come when you call. Cats take a message and get back to you.”
brian stouder said on June 21, 2013 at 2:07 pm
Bitter – we have two (rescue) cats in our family…or rather, the two cats (Winnie and Taffy) adopted our girls.
But all the women were gone for 10 days, and Taffy, the really-aloof one, adopted me as her go-to person. (It really helped to be one of only two persons available to go to, or the only person available, when Grant was busy!)
Total non-sequitur: Did you know that Henry Hudson’s crew mutinied against him in Hudson Bay 402 years ago tomorrow, and set him (and his teenaged son, and a few others) adrift in Hudson Bay?
Forget Hoffa, I wanna know where Henry Hudson’s remains are! (actually, why should we believe the crew set him adrift?)
Jeff Borden said on June 21, 2013 at 2:24 pm
As a latecomer to dog ownership –we got Cosmo when I was a creaking 59– I simply cannot believe what I missed for so much of my life. He’s a labradoodle who we got at 8-weeks-old just a couple of weeks after I’d been diagnosed with prostate cancer. (A cancer diagnosis lays waste to the idea you have plenty of time on this earth, which is what led us to finally go out and get a dog.)
He makes me laugh out loud at least four or five times a day. He has introduced me to an incredibly varied group of people who meet in a nearby park most afternoons between 4 and 6 p.m. for dog frolics. He leads me on long walks through our lovely neighborhood, regardless of weather. He has a fun-loving but mellow temperament I wish I could emulate. . .we call him an Owen Wilson dog because he’s blond, shaggy and chill. . .and is the athlete I’ve never been. He’s amazingly intuitive.
All this is old news to you veteran dog folks. Any visitors to this site who wonder if it is ever too late to take on a dog, I guess I’d say no.
Linda said on June 21, 2013 at 2:40 pm
Hope you get the dog–she looks cute. My sis and brother both have terriers. One thing about them–the competitive pissing. They HAVE to pee on top of another dog’s pee, and do a little scratch and dance over it. My sis has a mixed terrier, and also an American Bulldog. The terrier will wait till the bulldog pees, then pee right on the same spot and do a little victory dance. While bro’s terrier can kill rats the same size as her (she shakes them till their necks snap), sis’s terrier has decided to befriend several furry rodents. Go figure.
John (not McCain) said on June 21, 2013 at 2:57 pm
“the best cats of my acquaintance had a lot of dog in their behavior.”
For anyone looking for a dog-like cat, I can’t recommend Maine coons highly enough. They have the best qualities of both species. They are longhairs so be prepared to brush them a lot because they will get very matted very quickly, but they are worth the effort.
mark said on June 21, 2013 at 3:22 pm
I’ve got a Welsh Corgi, though he’s entering his very senior years. Delightful, amusing, wonderful animals with LOTS of fur to maintain.
Good luck, Nancy. Looks like you’ve found a winner.
Prospero said on June 21, 2013 at 3:51 pm
It’s remarkable what good taste in music the makers of Sopranos showed in what they played over the closing credits. How did they choke so badly on the final cut to black? My best Sopranos episode? Pine Barrens, especially when Paulie and Christopher get paranoid and both guys think the other is out to kill him. I also loved the fact that Bobby Bacala was the only mobster competent in the wilderness. And what did happen to the Russian? Damn, that was one hilarious epidsode.
GOP’s race to the drain on student loan debt. With the prevalent behavior of the GOP, one wonders whether the consequences are unintended and they are just too stupid to see what will happen, or whether it’s all part of their plan to sink the American economy.
Competitive pissing: Demonstration sport in Rio, ’16.
Prospero said on June 21, 2013 at 3:53 pm
Brian@34: According to Washington Irving, the crew of the Half Moon all wanted to go ashore to go bowling with Rip Van Winkle.Rip Van Winkle. When I was a little kid, my dad loved to break out this story when there was a thunderstorm. It has a good dog too, named Wolf.
deb said on June 21, 2013 at 4:26 pm
Love the name. Love the pictures. Love the spunky attitude. (That TAIL!) Good luck and godspeed. And Bitter Scribe? That story made my day.
Deborah said on June 21, 2013 at 4:27 pm
Love the pet stories. I especially like reading the names you folks have given your pets. My cat is Ursula, her sister that we had to put down last year was Gudrun. We named them after the Brangwen sisters in DH Lawrence’s novel Women in Love. My husband was a fan of Lawrence for awhile there. There is a wonderful little shrine That we have visited with Lawrence’s ashes in Taos, NM, he lived there for a time with his wife Freda.
Diane said on June 21, 2013 at 4:35 pm
Oh, coming out of lurkdom to say I really, really hope that Wendy gets you and you get her!
LAMary said on June 21, 2013 at 4:42 pm
According to an Amazon posting online today is Bring Your Dog to Work Day. I wish. Having my dogs here would definitely improve the atmosphere. Even if the big dane mix is gassy.
Hattie said on June 21, 2013 at 5:27 pm
Good luck. We sure do neglect people and animals, don’t we.
Prospero said on June 21, 2013 at 5:56 pm
Right. It was the dog.
LAMary said on June 21, 2013 at 6:05 pm
Pros, my dane mix is the one who barks at his own ass when he farts. If it wasn’t the dog he would bark at the appropriate ass.
Prospero said on June 21, 2013 at 7:31 pm
Incredible Octopus Grigori video.
Soul Train spider mating dance.
Kirk said on June 21, 2013 at 7:54 pm
The first dog my wife and I had was a schnauzer-terrier mix, one of a litter of three named Joe, Dominic and Vince, for the DiMaggio brothers. My wife decided that Dom wasn’t a good dog name, so, at 6 weeks old, he was renamed the more-traditional Shadow.
Prospero said on June 21, 2013 at 8:20 pm
This is a book about the most advanced form of entertainment ever. You can pause it at any time. Rewind and replay it if you miss a bit … It’ll fit in your pocket. It’s interactive … It’s pretty cheap. It’s completely free to share. And it lasts a lifetime. This is a book about books.
Could’ve tried the Alou family, Kirk.
Felipe, Jesus and Matty made history on Sept. 15, 1963 with the Giants when they became the first trio of brothers to play outfield together. They and Moises, Felipe’s son, played a combined 66 seasons in the Major Leagues. Three of Felipe’s other sons, Jose, Felipe Jose and Luis, played briefly in the Minors.
My ex and I had a black cat named Shadowjack after the Roger Zelazny character, but we called him Jack for short, after a predecessor. That cat was a sneaky bastard.
Sherri said on June 21, 2013 at 8:30 pm
Baseball has the DiMaggio’s, the Alou’s, and the Molina brothers (Benjie, Jose, and Yadier, all catchers), but nothing tops the Sutter brothers in hockey: Brent, Brian, Darryl, Duane, Rich, and Ron. Brent’s son Brandon is now a player on the Pittsburgh Penguins.
Joe K said on June 21, 2013 at 8:39 pm
We’ve had golden retrievers for the last 30+ years, Baron, Dixie, Carling, Piper, and presently Baxter, they all had there own personality, and I have loved them all and cried when I had to put them down even knowing it was the proper thing to do. I truly believe all dogs go to heaven and I know they will be there waiting someday for me.
Prospero said on June 21, 2013 at 8:52 pm
Dogs and Heaven in the Twilight Zone. One of Rod Serling’s greatest.
Deborah said on June 21, 2013 at 8:56 pm
I call Ursula “my” cat because she is totally devoted to me, she follows me around like a lap dog. It has gotten more pronounced since her sister is gone. I love the little pill even though sometimes I would like to read without a cat between me and the book or computer. She is very vocal now too, she doesn’t like it when I switch positions and she lets me know how displeased she is.
Prospero said on June 21, 2013 at 9:49 pm
Food Network canned Paula Deen.
Prospero said on June 21, 2013 at 9:55 pm
I can’t wait to see all the interweb whining about the violation of Paula’s 1st Amendment rights. When I hear the name Ursula, I think first of George of the Jungle.
Kirk said on June 21, 2013 at 10:54 pm
When I hear the name Ursula, I think first, second and third of Andress.
Dexter said on June 22, 2013 at 2:53 am
As Napoleon Dynamite says, “Dang it!”
Aunt Vinnie Harriet passed away. She was ninety-eight years and six months old. I thought she had a real chance to make 100…not to be. What a life she had lived, my late mom’s last remaining sister. She had worked in various offices around Angola, Indiana, and during WWII she worked in the giant super-secret CASAD warehouse/depot in Fort Wayne. That was a scary place, housing vehicles and military ware and heavily guarded by military police and mean-ass dogs. There even was a German P.O.W. camp somewhere near there; I just found that out.
After the war and another career stop as personal secretary to the top man at American Van Lines, she started up a series of beauty parlors after some brief schooling to get her licenses. She worked well into her seventies, spry as a forty-year-old.
When she was just 24, her truck-driver husband was killed in a fiery crash in St. Louis, Missouri as he was hauling automobiles .
This left her in a helluva fix, as my grandpa refused to let her and his grandson live back home; this is when she moved on, to Angola. These were tough years, just before the war.
Later she married a very nice man and he passed away when Aunt Vinnie was 57. She spent many years in her Hicksville home with her dogs, her last stop before the nursing home the last three years. She was a real peach.
alex said on June 22, 2013 at 6:02 am
What is it about Fort Wayne and Men’s Health Magazine? We’re featured again, only this time not for being the fattest or stupidest.
coozledad said on June 22, 2013 at 9:41 am
I guess Paula Deen can do a “Mrs. Food” segment on Howard Kurtz’s new spot on Fox.
Howard tongue bathes Roger Ailes for a while, then they cut to Paula’s theme:
“With a rebel yell
She fried mo, mo, mo!”
Then she and Howard can do a sort of Sonny and Cher bit where she force feeds him some pork.
David C. said on June 22, 2013 at 10:15 am
Or separate, but equal white and dark meat fried chicken.
beb said on June 22, 2013 at 10:24 am
Condolences, Alex. 98.5 years for your Aunt Vinnie. ‘Dang it’ doesn’t cut the musterd. That was an F’king awesome life.
I didn’t think Paula Deen’s sins were that terrible, but there goes the show. Now she’ll have more time to work on her diabetes.
And, right, Howard Kurtz, the world’s worst media critic is now working for the world’s least self-aware, most dishonest television network ever. His training at Fred Hiatt’s Washington Post can be marked “Mission Accomplished.”
For years the only Ursula I knew was Ursula Andress, so like Kirk that’s who I think off. Just as with Sophia, the first person I think of is Sophia Loren.
I don’t want to rain on the Wendy-parade, but Jack Russell terriers are, from what I here, high-maintenance dogs, requiring a lot of attention, a lot of running around and so on. They may not be the best choice in a two-career household.
brian stouder said on June 22, 2013 at 11:25 am
Alex, I laughed all the way through that article when I read it this morning, and even wondered how Mr Stockman got the closing sentence past the editors (I’ll have to ask Ms Stockman about that, next time I see her at the school board meeting!)
Dexter, excellent post.
I grew up hearing the folk-lore about that German POW camp; it was called Camp Scott.
Our neighborhood was just north of McMillan Park; you could ride your bike east, crossing Wayne Trace, and you were in wilderness (it’s still basically wooded out that way). Harvester has a test track that way (still exists), and rail-lines converge. Aside from Harvester, many other manufacturers and warehouses used to lay in that direction.
My brothers always had stories about hobos and so on, in those woods, near where Camp Scott was
Prospero said on June 22, 2013 at 12:10 pm
Tejas continues to lead the nation in horse’s asses elected to Congress.
ROGirl said on June 22, 2013 at 1:00 pm
Paula’s southern fried corn pone act had campy amusement value, but now it’s just the public facade of the fault line of bigotry that runs wide and deep through a lot of genteel southern behavior that takes the form of exaggerated graciousness.
Didn’t Mad Magazine turn Ursula Andress into Arsala Undress?
Dexter said on June 22, 2013 at 1:19 pm
Thanks, beb. BrianStouder, can you believe the content of the Fort Wayne news stories back in the 1890’s?
coozledad said on June 22, 2013 at 1:30 pm
ROGirl: Paula’s probably shocked at the backlash because her acculturation has made her deaf to the essential meanness of “I won’t tryin’ to be mean.” That’s the inviolable perfection of the racist virus. It don’t have to make you try. It doesn’t even make you feel like you’re trying to be mean when it smoothly shifts gear into its more savage manifestations.
Societies that try to preserve racism as a unique heritage are doing nothing short of enculturating a form of mental retardation. Media outlets that defend such behaviors have a monetary or political stake in preserving and distributing the disease.
The truly indefensible thing here is Ailes’ little band of bitter senescents and hatemongers riding in to save Miz Paula from the shit she stepped in, and will keep stepping in until she can recognize how she’s been fucked up all her life by casual racist abettors. There isn’t a single employee with that organization, or a member of the party it represents, that even wants to live in a world that isn’t governed by criminal assumptions.
I’d tell them to go fuck themselves, but reality tells them that already, every fucking day.
alex said on June 22, 2013 at 1:46 pm
Not to worry, beb. Nance knows exactly what she’s getting into. Her last dog was a Jack Russell.
Danny said on June 22, 2013 at 2:28 pm
The first snippet I read of this Paula Deen story indicated only that she had admitted to using the objectionable word at some point in her life, distant past… and it seemed extreme that she would lose her job over that. Having now read more from her deposition, it’s evident that she does have a problem with race and not a very mild one. With the little she admits to in her deposition, one can only assume that her true behavior and that of those around her was much worse.
Julie Robinson said on June 22, 2013 at 2:52 pm
Dexter, Aunt Vinnie sounds like a grand lady. I had a great aunt with a similar trajectory, losing her first husband young and carving out a life of independence and shrewd investing on her schoolteacher salary. Aunt Alda, I salute you still.
I’m waiting for the letters to the editor from scandalized Fort Wayners who are offended even though they didn’t quite understand the story. Cancel my subscription!
Don’t worry too much about Paula Deen. Now that $Palin is back on Fox, they can do a show together about deep frying moose.
Henry Hank Chapin said on June 22, 2013 at 4:00 pm
$100 for the vet per year is very low. Try at least five times that amount. Just one visit will scarf up most of $100. However, your potential pup looks great. She’s got that certain something, that je ne sais quoi,that charisma, that IT quality.
brian stouder said on June 22, 2013 at 4:13 pm
Dex – thanks for the link to the interesting stuff!
I scrolled to an 1895 article on a person from whom they removed a 30′ long tape worm; and another where a kid who lived on Indiana Avenue found a baby on their front porch.
If you scrolled down, did you see the Bowser ad for safe tank storage? Lots of big storage tanks without any secondary containment!
Prospero said on June 22, 2013 at 6:06 pm
The dancing horse ballerina says Wah, wah, wah. We want our coupla caddies car elevator. How is anybody that clueless without having had a prefrontal lobotomy?
The story of Aunt Vinnie made my day, and I’m hoisting a Red Hook IPA to that grand lady right this minute.
Day after tomorrow, I get to decide whether to tap my SSI or let ‘er ride.I have been paying FICA max since my mid 30s, so there is a chunk involved, which is why I find this GOPer bullshit about entitlements infuriating. The way I see it, I choose optimism or pessimism. If it’s optimism, I’m betting that GOPerism is dead as a doornail, and my “entitlement” is safe. If I’m pessimistic, these vampires may rise from their coffins and hand all the funds over to private bankers to burn like a bookie’s flash paper and handle with that sort of knowledge and aplomb they displayed in trashing the world economy three years ago.. This is like sports betting. In which case, I should start clawing my money back ASAP.
Do I rely on my own knowledge and expertise or do I bet my heart? Sometimes it doesn’t matter. When Dawgs ran out of time in the NCG at the 5yl (sorry Brandon, but UGA would probably have made ND look worse than Bama did), I still made a bundle with the points, and I was taking my team. Now, I want nothing other than happy lives for my family, and also for you all, as much as I want the GOP to be gone the way of the Tonton Macoute, of which they have been the American version. Whole thing makes me feel like Alvie Singer. I have a gub.
Anybody ever hear of a kid book called Swimmy? Written and illustrated by Leo Lionni? Came across it on Barnes &Noble. Astoundingly gorgeous illustrations and a beautiful sparse story. If you have little critters around, I really recommend this book, especially if you know a little kid not too sure about swimming. I love giving swimming lessons. And I never throw the child in the deep end unless it’s necessary to remove the idiotic helimom.
Prospero said on June 22, 2013 at 6:09 pm
Wait, it just occurred to me. Mrs. Romney is Cherry 2000, without the looks and the brains.
Linda said on June 22, 2013 at 8:30 pm
Henry @ 71–amen. When I first got Shorty (the avatar you see to your right) he was incubating a terrible virus that nearly killed him, and ran me up a $300 bill in less than a week of ownership. He wasn’t from a shelter, though–just an abandoned half-grown kitten. Once Inky (my rescued indoor-outdoor) got in an ill-advised fight with a woodchuck, and that was good for about $150. Any Rocky the Fussy One is on twice a day meds for his thyroid. Wish I could grow a money tree right next to the catnip.
brian stouder said on June 22, 2013 at 8:39 pm
Pros – that was a funny Romney story! Maybe when Grant and I are in San Diego next month, we’ll go looking for the Romney neighborhood.
On second thought, it’s probably a “gated community”, and some self-appointed hero would Trayvon us both, if we dared to venture in!
Kirk said on June 22, 2013 at 8:53 pm
Not in that community. Only the finest ex-Blackwater thugs that millions can buy.
Dorothy said on June 22, 2013 at 10:14 pm
Spriggy was a Jack Russell?
Loved your comments @ 35, Jeff Borden.
brian stouder said on June 22, 2013 at 10:49 pm
Good point, Kirk.
If some unfortunate thing should happen to us; say, a piano falls from upon us, or our rental car gets smashed by a dump truck, or a missing manhole cover causes us to plunge into the dark hereafter – then you’ll know….we found Mr Romney’s Neighborhood, and it was not a beautiful day!
brian stouder said on June 22, 2013 at 11:07 pm
cue music from The Godfather
Dexter said on June 23, 2013 at 2:09 am
For the Boston Bruins, a song.
Prospero said on June 23, 2013 at 6:55 am
Well the Blackhawks have had a Blackhawk standing both boots in the crease for seven of their last eight goals. Why do they still paint that thing on the ice? And the Bruins were down to Toronto by three with ten minutes left in game 7 earlier in these playoffs, so I wouldn’t write them off yet.
In my experience, Jack Russells are on the calm end of the terrier yap-meter.
Prospero said on June 23, 2013 at 8:50 am
His competitors have a long fracking way to go to catch Gohmert in the Asshole of the Universe competition. He’s about to lap Ron Raygun here.
Prospero said on June 23, 2013 at 12:45 pm
Miz Paula didn’t give one of those non-appology “if I’ve offended anybody” apologies.
Bob (not Greene) said on June 23, 2013 at 2:37 pm
Well, just checked the video of the Hawks last four goals, and there were exactly zero Hawks players in the crease when they were scored. I did see a Bruin intentionally punch Jonathan Toews in the back of the head, though.
Dexter said on June 23, 2013 at 3:22 pm
Toews deserved it! (No other way to keep him from dominating the game, so just attempt to murder him every shift!)
OK, he didn’t deserve it.
Patrice Bergeron’s old concussion problems are surfacing. Taken from The Madhouse in an ambo? Damn.
Without Bergeron, the Bruins are just toast. I love Chicago, but I hate the Blackhawks and da Bears. Blackhawks fans are some of the worst assholes I have ever met, unlike the sweet Red Wings fans. 🙂 Bears and their fans are great, but haters like me, we gotsta B hatin’. I hate it how they usually kill my Dee-troit Lions. Their goddam stadium looks like a scene from Close Encounters of the Third Kind.
Kirk said on June 23, 2013 at 4:18 pm
We get a lot of Blackhawks and Red Wings fans at games in Columbus and, for the most part, they’re just good fans there to back their team. The most consistent assholes are Buffalo fans, and quite a few jerks follow the Penguins.
brian stouder said on June 23, 2013 at 4:29 pm
Years ago, I wore my Reds teeshirt and ballcap into Wrigley Field, and watched the Reds lose to ‘da Cubs’. It was the game that the Reds outfielder – whose name I forget – lined up to catch a flyball, and lost it in the sun, tried to cover himself, and get bonked on the head!
Leaving the place, I took some good-natured ribbing from various Cubs fans, and off we went through departing throngs.
In more recent years, I recall reading some guy got murdered at Dodgers Stadium for wearing the other team’s stuff – which I suppose means not much more than that idiots can be absolutely anywhere, at any given time.
Indeed, today’s news from Fort Wayne includes this gem:
FORT WAYNE, Ind. (WANE) – An ice cream truck driver was robbed and then shot by two suspects near the intersection of Webster and Killea Streets Saturday evening, according to the Fort Wayne Police Department. FWPD spokesperson John Chambers told NewsChannel 15 that at around 8:30 p.m., two suspects approached an ice cream truck driver while he was stopped inside of the truck and demanded money. One of the suspects was armed with a handgun.
I mean, my God.
This has to be the work of a couple of armed 15 year olds, yes? How the hell much would you get from an ice cream truck? $40? $50? And you’d be willing to kill* a person for that?
*the driver is said to be still alive, but in critical condition
Bob (not Greene) said on June 23, 2013 at 5:19 pm
Dexter, I heard that Bergeron’s injury was to his spleen. You’re right about his presence being critical. He’s a heck of a player. If Toews can’t go tomorrow that’s a huge problem for the Blackhawks. He really ignites Patrick Kane’s game with his net presence and his ability to create space.
Prospero said on June 23, 2013 at 5:39 pm
Nobody was murdered at Chavez Ravine brian. Drunk Giants fan started a parking lot fight he couldn’t finish, in front of his family. I’m not condoning the violence, but what is a person supposed to do when confronted with this sort of inhumanity. I was shot in the leg trying to break up an unfair fight. By the apparent victim, who had also waved his pistol at his assailants several miles and a few minutes earlier.
I exagerated but in Game Four, it was a constant. And Toews, please. Asshole is like Bill Laimbeer:
Instant Karma. Toews is a wussy, cheap-shot jerk.
Prospero said on June 23, 2013 at 5:53 pm
This is where Bergeron’s concussions started, and the league let’s this shit go:
Prospero said on June 23, 2013 at 6:11 pm
Toews is one noxious little shit. That likes to act like he’s Terry O’Reilley.
Bob (not Greene) said on June 23, 2013 at 6:19 pm
Prospero, it’s a statement like that that reveals you have no idea what you’re talking about. Toews is like Bill Laimbeer? That’s idiotic. Toews is one of the best, most gar-working players in the NHL. The ONE fight he’s been in you pick as your example? That was Toews’ response to Joe Thornton’s cheap shot on him the previous year that ended his season. It was stupid and emotional and put himself in danger, because Toews is not a tough guy. He did it to send a message that he wasn’t going to bullied by guys like Thornton. I find it interesting that the sainted Zdeno Chara and Johnny Boychuk felt the need to, respectively, elbow and punch Toews in the head last night, because Toews was making them look stupid in front of the net. You want to find cheap shots, you’re looking in the wrong direction.
Deborah said on June 23, 2013 at 11:45 pm
Anybody wanna discuss the season finale of Mad Men? I thought it was the best episode of this season, it kept surprising me.