Five Ways to Avoid Being Picked Up by Animal Control


When I went to take the dog for a walk this morning an animal control truck was parked right outside my house. Chompy didn’t seem to care, but when I saw it I just knew I was in big trouble. I don’t know why I always assume that I’m in trouble. I guess I just have a guilty conscious, but expected the animal control officer to snag me and throw me into one of those little cages in the back of the truck.

Later, during the walk I had to walk by a motorcycle cop who I was convinced would arrest. If he did arrest me would that mean I’d have to ride on the back of his motorcycle to the station? I’m not sure if that would be good or bad.

Anyway, I know that most of you are probably just as afraid of being picked up by animal control as I am. So here are some tips to make sure you don’t get shipped off to the pound.

1. Avoid walking around your neighborhood. They’re looking for stray animals. Do your best not to look like a stray by driving everywhere. If you do have to walk for some reason put on a leash. Then the animal control officer will know that you belong to someone.

2. Don’t pee on any fire hydrants. I know the temptation is great, but lifting your leg to pee in public is the quickest way to get mistaken for a dog. Fight the urge. I’m sure you can hold it until you get home.

3. Don’t wear that dog costume you bought for Halloween around the neighborhood. Costumes are for Halloween. Wearing it on any other day will just get you into a mess of trouble.

4. If an animal control officer does approach you stay calm and make sure you enunciate your words clearly when you speak. Everyone knows that dogs tend to garble their words.

5. Steer clear of cats. They’re nothing but trouble. If anyone is going to report you to animal control it will be the cat that lives three doors down and pretends to like you. He’ll anonymously report you in a minute and if you confront him on it, he’ll never admit it.

Walking Chompyface

So I should’ve had this video up yesterday, but there were a few glitches. It seems like everything I do this week is a day late and a dollar short, as they say.

Anyway … about the video. This is a dog walking video. If you like dogs and whistling you may be vaguely entertained. If you prefer cats and kazoos, you should probably skip this one. I’ll be getting a kazoo for next week’s video, and I’m sure I can barrow a cat from a friend.

The dog in the video is played by Reginald P. Chompyface. The people are holograms of actual human beings. The “neighborhood” is actually a sound stage on Mars. The music was written and performed by PatriQ. He asks that you ignore the bad guitar playing.

Can’t see this video? No worries. Click here.

Break Out the Tissues, I Bought a Dog

After a year of looking at dogs online and trying to figure out what kind of dog would be right for me, I finally got one. For most people getting a dog would be a happy, fun experience of discovery and bonding with their new pet. Well, I’m not most people. I started regretting my decision in the car on the way home for the animal shelter and it only got worse from there.

Yes, I tried to play fetch and tug with him in the backyard and did all the things you’re supposed to do with a dog, but I also cried for three days straight and talked seriously about giving him back. You might wonder why. Having a dog was like stabbing myself in the eye with a knitting needle. It felt like I went to the SPCA one lovely Saturday and paid them for the privilege of stabbing myself in the eye everyday for the next 15 years. I thought having a dog would kill me.

It wasn’t just the random barking in the middle of the night and having to get up at 7:30 in the morning (the butt crack of dawn) that was getting to me. It was the general upset to my schedule. My husband says I’m autistic because I get so upset when my schedule isn’t followed.

On top of all that, the dog just kept looking at me. I’d play with him and walk him and then he’d just lay there and look at me with those sad dog eyes. What does he want from me? I don’t know because he can’t speak English. He only speaks dog. See how upsetting this is. If you had a stranger staring at you silently while you tried to work you’d turn into an emotional wreck too. Don’t believe me? Tell me where you work and I’ll come stare at you for a while and see how you feel.

Don’t worry, I kept the dog. As time passes, he’s becoming less and less like a knitting needle in the eye. I guess that means I’m growing to like him even though he still hasn’t had the common courtesy to sign up for an English class so we can communicate more easily. I guess that means I’ll have to learn how to speak dog.

Introducing Reginald P. Chompyface ….


Breaking News

I checked the local SPCA website yesterday only to discover that Spooky the cat wasn’t listed. Frantically, I scanned the recently adopted section and there he was. Spooky was adopted on February 9, 2013. I am so happy I can’t even begin to tell you. I was afraid that I would have to adopt him to make up for talking so much smack about him.

I don’t know how he managed it. He must’ve tricked his new owner by dressing up as a Great Dane and hanging out in the dog section. Great Danes are popular at the SPCA. When one turns up they only last a day before they get adopted.

Good for Spooky. I’m glad he managed to find someone with a bigger heart than me. Now I can check out some of the other cats the next time I visit the shelter instead of spending all of my time trying to befriend Spooky.

Manti Te’o, Spooky the Cat, and Catfish

In light of certain events that have happened to me this weekend, I’d like to say that I know exactly how Manti Te’o must be feeling. That’s right, you don’t have to be a naive college football player to be fooled by a fake internet profile. I have a catfish story of my very own, and this one involves a cat.

I like to peruse the local SPCA website looking for pets that I can adopt once I get my very own house. I look at dogs of course, but cats also interest me. Since August there’s been a certain cat on the site that I’ve had my eye on. His name is Spooky and besides his issue with other male cats he seemed like a good find. Here’s his profile:


He’s friendly, curious, active and social, and he likes to ride in cars. Doesn’t he sound great. Just look at his cute little kitty cat face. Well, don’t believe everything you see online. Anybody can steal someone else’s profile picture, pass it off as their own, and completely make up a bunch of really nice things about themselves. I know Spooky didn’t write his own profile. He pays people to do his dirty work for him.

On Saturday I decided to go to the SPCA to meet the animals that I’ve spent months looking at online. One of my primary goals was to meet Spooky.

The cat section of the SPCA has a series of glass inclosed rooms. Each room has cats roaming around inside. Visitors can go into the rooms to meet the cats. I searched the profiles taped on the glass doors looking for Spooky. When I finally found him we entered that room.

There were five cats in the room, but one grabbed our attention first. “That’s the biggest cat I’ve ever seen,” my husband said gesturing to the jet black cat spilling over the sides of a cat hammock. “Is that Spooky?”

“No,” I said confidently. “Spooky is a medium sized cat.” As I looked around the room and realized that he was the only completely black cat my heart sank. Could this be Spooky? I wondered. Could that be the medium sized active cat that I fell in love with? That was impossible. If he’s medium what’s a large cat look like? Do they have lions in the back room or something?

We played with a black cat with a splash of white fur on her chest while Spooky slept. Occasionally his enormous dandruff covered back would twitch, but he never woke. Before we left we asked a volunteer if the large black cat sleeping in the hammock was Spooky. She checked his tag and nodded. “Yeah, that’s Spooky,” she said.

I couldn’t deny it any longer. I’d been had. As much as I wanted to hide the fact I couldn’t. That’s why I’m telling you now. It’s best to confess to being the victim of a hoax before some busy body reporter finds out and blasts it all over the television news channels.

Will I see Spooky again? Probably. Will I adopt Spooky in the future? I don’t know. It just depends on whether or not I can get over the way he deceived me for the past six months. It depends on whether or not I believe his apology … if he ever wakes up long enough to give me one.

Hey guys. The other day Funny Not Slutty published a guest post that yours truly wrote. It’s all about New Year’s Resolutions. I encourage you to read it and make a comment if you’re so inclined. Here’s the post.

The Animal Ambassadors

I used to always say that nature would be great if it wasn’t for all the animals. Being charged by a hungry squirrel in a park or surrounded by a gaggle of angry geese when I’m trying to go for a peaceful stroll is not my idea of a good time. The idea of being attacked by a ferocious hedgehog on a camping trip still sends chills down my spine.

Even though I’ve had some traumatic experiences with animals over the years there have been some animal ambassadors in my life that let me know that animals really aren’t that bad.

105:365 Logan at the BBQ

This is Logan the ambassador to crazy dogs everywhere. The idea of having a dog never crossed my mind until I spent a week dog sitting for my sister. This dog is fun, fun, fun. Even though he would bark like a maniac in the back yard and never came when called, he grew on me. The great thing about a dog is that they are always so happy to see you. The bad thing about a dog is picking up steaming turds when you walk them.

Logan stayed by my side watching horror movies (that was a bad idea) with me when I came down with the flu. He’s a great little friend.

And then there’s this one:


Cats seem like they should have a posh English accents and say things like, “It’s time for my Fancy Feast, chop chop,” and “You can pet me now, servant.”

This cat, Dexter, is a mellow guy. Even though he’s a bit demanding and is incredible picky about his food, he’s growing on me. We like to chill out on the sofa together. The great thing about owning a cat is that they are independent and even though they’re totally in it for themselves they are good company. The bad thing is that I suspect that they’re not very fateful. This guy is gone a lot and I can picture him working two homes to get all the Fancy Feast with gravy that he possibly can.

I gave him a cat massage once and now he thinks that massages are required everyday after meal time. He’ll eat, or won’t eat depending one whether or not there’s gravy, and then perch him self on the arm of the chair next to me and meow until I start giving him his massage. If I stop he protests. When the massage is finished he goes outside to sleep until next meal time.

Now of course, I’ve been saying to my husband, “What do you thing about getting a cat?” My husband’s Dog Whisperer obsession makes him really want a dog though. Maybe we could get one of each.

Not a Small Dog

I used to want a pet fox. Then I wanted a pet donkey. My interest in exotic pets has waned recently. Now I just want a dog. I want a dog so badly that I check the Humane Society’s website every night to see who is up for adoption. I want a dog so badly that I talk about dogs all the time. My husband is probably getting sick of it.

Me: I don’t understand why anyone would want a small dog like a chihuahua. They’re just too small.
My Husband: I don’t really care about the size of the dog. What’s wrong with a small dog?
Me: I don’t know I just think a medium sized dog is much better. What can you do with a small dog?
My Husband: Walk it and play with it just like any other dog.
Me: … I don’t know a medium sized dog just seems better.
My Husband: What makes a medium sized dog better?
Me: That’s easy. You see the thing a medium sized dog has going for it is that it’s not a small dog.

My New Pet

I finally got my pet fox. Her name is Penny and she’s taken up residence in our upstairs neighbor’s neglected garden. She likes to sit in the sun on the patio.

I was convinced that Penny was rabid. Foxes are nocturnal and though she was doing a lot of lounging,  she was still active during the day. After doing a lot of worrying about it, I decided to send my husband out to find out. My theory was that if Penny was indeed a normal fox she would run away as he approached the back gate. If she was rabid she would run toward him, knocking him to the ground, and tearing the flesh from his neck. I thought this experiment was best done during the day when the doctor’s office up the street was open.

Penny passed the test. She ran away just like a normal fox should. The only problem is that she hasn’t come back since. Too bad, I was looking forward to having a pet. I’ll just have to make due with the fat willowy legged spider under the bathroom sink. I named her Pumpkin and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have rabies.

You’ve Probably Seen This Already…

…but I thought it was so funny that I just had to post it. Don’t worry this is not becoming a dog-themed blog–unless of course you would prefer a dog-themed blog–I just happen to be thinking about dogs these days. It’s much like my prior obsession with foxes.

The Dog Days of Wanting a Dog

105:365 Logan at the BBQ

I’ve never wanted a dog. Something about cleaning up poop is just unappealing to me. I see other people walking their dogs carrying a plastic bag of steaming turd and I feel kind of sick. I actually have to cross the street if there is someone on my side of the street stooping over to pick up poop. I’ve always thought that you have to have a special kind of dedication to be a dog owner.

When we stayed in Florida my heart softened a bit to the whole idea of owning a dog. We watched my sister’s house and dog for five days during our vacation.

My sister’s dog is a lunatic of an animal, but the more time you spend with him the more he seems to grow on you. There’s something about those sad brown eyes. I was giving him snacks and treats all day everyday. When my sister got home, she swore he’d gained weight.

Now I see dogs on the street and I think maybe one dog I want to have a dog. Then I see someone squatting down to pick up a hot turd and I think maybe I ‘ll get a stuffed toy dog instead.