It's about Max...

Look at this poor baby. No doubt he has spent the majority of his life in this "cage" and has run his heart out for his owner. Look at those eyes!

This is Max and yes, he is smiling!

I want to tell you about my dog brother, Max, or as his racing name proclaims: UCME Maxwell. However, I think they probably called him “Hey you!” because they don’t honor Greyhounds by using their names since they didn’t want some gambling, betting idiot to call their names from the grandstands and distract them.

Humans discover certain animals have a talent and they find a way to exploit and use them for personal gain. They use the word “broke” when it comes to training and in the process, the animal’s spirit is also broken because irresponsible people become abusive and only think of the money some poor creature can bring their way.

When my family adopted Max he was confused from being passed around as he was termed a “problem” dog given the fact he didn’t like other animals. His back legs were bald from being kenneled and his eyes showed the need for a loving forever home. For the first few weeks he would only sleep in a small corner of the bedroom like he was still in a kennel.

Today, Max sleeps on designer pillows and even has his own water bed. He gets a daily brushing and loves his trips to the dog park for a short burst of running (they aren’t built for endurance) and he is deeply loved.

I want to encourage all of you to consider adopting a retired Greyhound. They are so loyal and loving and gave so much for the unethical trainers who easily disposed of them when they didn’t win. They deserve better. They deserve a loving home that only you can offer. Please, for me, consider this.

Merry Christmas!

I can't wait to hear what all of you received for Christmas! I'll get my usual ping pong balls (don't knock it until you've tried it!) and thanks to Pickles the Parrot, I will also receive a few balls stuffed full of wooden beads!

Of course, there is always that one present we could do without or don't like and this is mine for this year:

A flippin' stroller/backpack! This means I'll be required to be a part of the Family Walks/strolls/whatever!

I don't like this thing! I've gone on one walk and have been biting mom everytime she attempts to shove me back into this bird prison on wheels! She doesn't seem to care one bit either because she forces me inside saying that this foolishness has gone on too long and she's sick and tired of me being a baby!

So that said, Merry Freaking Christmas!

Cougars?

I receive strange emails and especially interesting since I'm a bird. How do these humans find me?

Jews for Jesus, Single Christian Dating sites, coupons for shopping or eating at certain restaurants. But, the email that claimed there were Cougars waiting to meet me was frightening! At first I thought maybe there were real Cougars that wanted to meet me for lunch or dinner meaning I would be the entree and they would be belching feathers afterward.

Why do humans have tags for certain personalities? A Cougar is an older, slightly wealthy woman who likes younger men. They must want and need to raise and operate a man.

What about older men who only date younger women? Why isn't there an animal name for them? Or...maybe there is...foolish old goat.

Not Your Ordinary Bath

I don't like my bath time. I don't like water. I don't like spraying water. I don't like getting wet. I don't like the kitchen sink.

I especially don't like having a kitchen towel wrapped around me. But, mom says I start smelling like a dirty horse blanket so that is when I'm put through the torture of a shower.

And then...there is my Facebook friend, Birdie Alice, who seems to be happy as a pig in mud when it comes to bath time.

Look at her! Soaking in a casserole dish without a care in the world. Here is my problem with this picture of her: What if it isn't water she's marinating in but...brine?