I love, love, love watching Julius “nest.” He curls his lanky body into a tight little ball and snuggles deep into the pillows. He has learned to burrow his snout into the warmth of blankets and he loves to have his his nose or sometimes the top of his head pressed against his humans.

I like to imagine that being that close and breathing in our scent makes him feel secure. My little man, who lived outside and was running the streets now luxuriates in creature comforts and is not above stealing a pillow out from beneath a resting head.

Julius actually has his own full sized pillows -(two of them!) that he sleeps with and these accompany him to whichever bed he happens to be sleeping in, usually. It gives me such a huge feeling of satisfaction when I see him enjoying these small comforts. I know that he knows how much he is loved.

Within the next week, I’m going to need to remind myself just this exact feeling. The hubby and I will be embarking on a huge adventure that just the anticipation of makes me emotional. I’ll believe it when I live it but in the meantime, Ray will help the girls hold down the Fort and Julius will pack his pillows, bed, blanket, bowls and toys for a week at “sleep-away camp” aka his happy place, Paw’s-n-Claw’s Pet Care Palace.

Wish us all luck!

We bring you Pit Bulls in PJs.

You’re welcome.

No Haters

Chances are that if you’re reading this you’re pretty much an internet user of some sort, right? I mean after all, there is very little these days that can’t be accessed through the illuminated glow of a computer (tablet or phone) screen. My own dear hubby likes to poke fun at friends who still rely on the paper version of a newspaper to get their updates of current affairs, although he is of an age group (as am I) of the “remember-whens.”

Although I do remember when we played outside unsupervised till dusk and drank from the garden hose, I also remember getting candy-jacked on Halloween and receiving a slew of “obscene” phone calls to our home. Those were the good old days, weren’t they? The caller was eventually caught, but because he was an “upstanding citizen” (a teacher!) in our community, his punishment was that neither my sister nor myself could ever be in one of his classes. My point is not to dredge up old business but to reiterate that even the “good old days” have some tarnish and things just can’t beblack and white when there are so many wonderful shades of gray.

As an engaged user of the webs, I’ve found it pretty easy to pick my battles. I don’t “unfriend” people for differing viewpoints but I do “unfollow” a constant stream of negativity. The fact is that in roughly the past five years or so, I’ve unfriended one person, blocked one person and unfollowed two. That’s it. I fully expect that some of my friends don’t want to see “dogs all day” so they surely have unfollowed me as well? I can dig it.

What really rankles me, though are the “Haters for Christ.” The latest to hit my periphery is that I’ve learned that God hates pit bulls. I’m confused. Granted, I will admit that I have not read much of The Good Book, so there may be a passage about pit bulls or a few pasages about how it’s okay to single out specific groups or colors or individuals that we don’t know or understand for the purposes of spreading God’s Hate. How are these unfortunate sinners to know that they are “bad” unless someone “good” can come and judge them? Well, as a pit bull owner, sitting in my single wide crack den (I’ve learned that we are all trailer trash, drug dealers), I’ve learned that I don’t need to engage in online battles and I don’t need to justify myself or my dogs. I prefer to surround myself with other simple “sinners” who look for the good in others, who help those in their hour of need without question, who give without conditions and love without boundaries.

I’ll take that any day of the week.

Possibly because I poked a little good natured fun at a fellow blogger recently, the cosmos made sure that I got to experience the meatball-maker first hand. Sunday is our day for The Bully Collective’s Pack Walk and Julius heard something with his “boy ears” at seven a.m. which put him in a dither.

Ray and I were sitting on the sofa after the boys ate their breakfasts and Ray was gnawing on an antler which Juli was eyeing with something akin to envy. I said to him, “Why don’t you go get your own antler?” But what he actually heard was “Why don’t you go-blahblah-BYE-BYE-blahbla.” So he immediately parked himself in front of the door and willed me to take him bye-bye.

For nearly two hours he sat and guarded my exit, ignored my suggestions that he go outside and finally got my agreement to leave 15 minutes early for Pack Walk. I figured we could at least gear up and possibly walk around when we arrived.

Our walk venue was along leaf-covered paths in a lovely cemetery and about half way through, one of the members observed that Julius was walking with his tail between his legs. I kind of shrugged it off since it was so cold, he didn’t really like wearing his Halti, and I wouldn’t let him trample through the piles of leaves so after a bit more walking one of the members behind us stepped on some poo. Odd, those of us ahead mentioned that we hadn’t even seen it but onward we all trekked. A few paces later and the walkers immediately behind us realized that Julius was plopping meatballs as he walked! My poor baby was so focused on going for his pack walk that he wouldn’t do anything else until he couldn’t wait any longer. After a quick pick up we again set off only to pause again for what seemed like the world’s longest potty break.

I guess I’ll need to make sure all of Julius’s bathroom needs are accomplished pretty early before he catches wind of going on an adventure for the day.