Wednesday, July 29, 2015


Hi folks, Baxter here.  You're not going to believe what happened to me.

For a while now, when my humans were petting me, they kept playing with some big lump on my rearend.  I tried to tell them to leave it alone, but, you know how it is, you just can't stop touching that kind of thing.

The vet stuck a needle in it and he said it was fine.  However, last week they took me back to the vet to look at it again.  Then they started talking about cleaning my teeth.  Then I took a nap.

When I woke up ...

this had happened.  The $*^ cone!  And get a load of this ...

Stitches.  I tried chewing them off but I just can't reach them with this cone.  Also, I'm missing a tooth. They finally took that broken one out.  The rest of them are pearly white now.

My cone keeps getting stuck in doorways when I try to squeeze through and I can hardly pick up a tennis ball.  On the plus side, I get pills wrapped in liverwurst.

Well, I keep telling myself to just think of the bright side ...

It's almost vacation!
Love, Baxter

Tuesday, July 21, 2015


So ... a day after Baxter killed a baby bunny, we had another bunny incident.  This time it ended much more happily for the bunny.

We have one of those dryers that vents to the outside.  Right into our driveway, as a matter of fact. This is an important detail to remember during this story.  Also, it's a gol darn fascinating detail of my home life.  Not.

In any case, my son and I pull into our driveway and get out of the car.  A baby bunny scuttles along the side of the house, and scared of us, squeezes into the dryer vent.

We tried to get him out, which just scared him further, and all of the sudden we heard a soft thud.  He fell backward into the long aluminum tube.

Yes, that long tube.  We hoped he was all right.

He was.   We detached the tube and found him crouching just inside the dryer.  Yes, that is some grody lint hanging down off the vent opening.  Thanks for noticing.

The bunny turned his back to us.  I think he was thinking "If I can't see you, you can't see me."

FYI:  That doesn't work.

We tried to coax him out with lettuce and a carrot.

FYI:  That doesn't work.

My son named him Dexter.  The bunny still didn't come out.  We thought about grabbing him but then we worried he would bolt deep into the dryer and we'd have to call a repair man.  I tried downloading an internal map of our dryer ...

location and name of parts in a clothes dryer

which didn't help at all.  In fact, it just depressed me to realize that though I am an intelligent woman I will never really understand how my dryer works.

Finally, we called Animal Control.  They were GREAT!!

They came, and used a long, ropey tool to grab the bunny.  It looked painful but wasn't at all.  And out came Dexter!

We set him free in the neighbor's yard.  I hope he never comes back to our yard.  It is not a safe place for bunnies.

Thursday, July 16, 2015


Look at this face.  Look as this cute, sweet face.

Did you ever think this could be the face of a killer?  Did you ever think that this well-groomed, proper Gent ...

could be a murderer?

Baxter killed a baby bunny.   Baby.  Bunny.  Right in our backyard.  The poor thing got trapped in some bushes and could not find the way out, even though there was an easy way out through the fence slats and I kept waving at Baxter and chasing him and trying to distract him long enough for Baby Bunny to make his escape.


Afterward, Baxter was so proud and excited.  Until he realized, at least for the moment, that nobody liked him anymore.

He knew something was wrong.  He couldn't even look at me.

He felt the shame.  Well, probably not.   Baxter has some Poodle in him, and some Cocker Spaniel in him, both of which were trained to hunt or used as bird dogs.  He is mostly Bichon Frise, and I don't know what they were trained for.  Breaking Mama Bunny's heart, I guess. 

Perhaps now would be a good time to also mention that a few months ago he attacked a squirrel and mortally wounded it, all in a few seconds and WHILE HE WAS ON THE LEASH with me.  He showed no remorse then either.

A dog's gotta do what a dog's gotta do.  Baxter says ...

"Don't hate me because of my gene pool!"

Friday, July 10, 2015

Please Stop Saying Belly

I hate the word belly.  I didn't used to hate the word; I liked it just as well as any other word.  But I hate it now because “belly” is always followed by the word “fat”.   Belly and fat used to be two separate things, and now they are one thing, and the word belly is the all worse for it.

In the past, belly was a perfectly pleasant word, and not at all overused.  It could refer to a ‘belly dancer’, which was a woman who had a great looking stomach and knew how to use it, or it might refer to a little toddler tummy that stuck out and made the child even more deliciously squeezable.  Belly dancers stomachs and baby’s stomachs are each beautiful and lovable in their own unique ways, and a tribute to the word belly.  Those were the good old days for the word belly.

(I know nothing about this book.  It was randomly selected for its title.)

But now, belly means fat.  Nobody goes to see “Magic Mike” and to see his sexy belly.  They go to see his sexy abs.  Or his six pack.  Or his torso. 

We’re a people obsessed with belly fat.  This is because we are a people possessed by belly fat.  We all have muffin tops or love handles, or other euphemistically named rolls of gross, squishy business around our middles. 

There is a TV commercial running now in my city which discourages the drinking of sugary drinks by showing ACTUAL belly fat as it looks on the inside.  Trust me, it’s even grosser than the outside kind.  It’s all yellow and glisteny and it wraps around your healthy pink organs and strangles them.  Soda, anyone?

Belly fat is referred to constantly on book covers and television shows, and in pop up ads (“Proven to Melt Belly Fat!”).  I'm pretty sure the word belly is unhappy about its imprisonment with fat.  It didn’t want to become some unattractive, down-market, organ-killing word.  It liked its old life, when it was used once in a while and meant a few different things. 

Now some magazines and other sources are trying to mix it up a little by referring to flat bellies.  I'm afraid it'just too late for that.  Flat belly just sounds to me like a fat belly that is oddly flat in front but just pooches out on the side and flaps around when you move.

Belly, I’m sorry.  I need to quit you, at least for now.  Perhaps one day we will all learn to eat right and exercise, and belly fat will be a thing of the past, like mutton chops.  I love the word chops, because I love many varieties of grilled meats, but I would not have loved the word chops back when it was constantly used to refer to some fellow's big hairy face.  So hang on, belly.  Your time may come again.  

In the meantime, I hope I have convinced you dear reader, to stop saying belly.  I think you'll find it improves your worldview.