Dog Eat Dog?

So, I have an interesting, disjointed story for you all.  And it isn't depressing. (Hopefully...)

So me and the boyfriend-now-fiance doohickey (as well as Kaye, whose totally awesome video game blog you should read, if you don't already) are working at moving in together.  And anyone who knows me knows that I love dogs.  And am fully planning on getting one as soon as income allows.  So, when there's a fifty foot billboard around the corner from my house that says ADOPT A GREYHOUND and has a picture of two adorable hounds cuddling, you can imagine what happens whenever I'm in a car/get behind the wheel:

"Omigawd Sam! Can we go? Please? Can we? Saaaaaam? Pleeeeeeeeease?!"
"But...its such a long drive...and gas prices...."
"PLEASE?!!?!!!?!?!!"
"...fine."


So, anyway, we've been there quite a few times now.  And, yes, I've developed a favorite.

(His name is Trapper, and he's part dingo I'm pretty sure.  Also, he doesn't have a tail anymore.)  Sadly, my favorite would eat my cat...soooo that's out of the question.

But, what this is really about is me finding these dogs... fascinating, quite frankly.  They're like, the big dog breed for cat lovers. For serious.  And, they're surprisingly chill.  Also, they want to eat small dogs.  Which is always fun.

Wait, what?

Yeah.  So I was walking one of them yesterday, a littler one that the guy in charge of the kennels said was "Probably cat-friendly.  I guess..."  We took her out, she was super happy and excited to go outside ("Do you wanna go for a waaaalk?")... and then she saw a little dog.  Well, her ears perk up and she's suddenly there is nothing in the world but this little dog.

I'm sure most of you have seen the look that dogs get when you hold their favorite toy right out of their reach. Yeah.  That.

I swear, I could almost hear her thinking.

"I wonder if you squeak like my toys.  I'll bite you and I'll pull out your stuffing and I will FIND that squeaker and squeak it all day long." - Juliet the Dog.


In fact, it took until we were very...very far away from it (completely out of sight, and probably out of scent) for her to focus on anything else.  Like sniffing poop.

Yup.  Poop always wins out over living chew toys.  That's a lesson we all should learn and take to heart.



If you're interested in helping ex-racing Greyhounds find permanent homes and/or live out the rest of their days in comfort, you should check out the National Greyhound Adoption Program's website, by clicking that link.

Observations on a City Subway

I was riding on the El train early on a Saturday afternoon (because mornings are for pussies with jobs!), the back car, the far back seat...my absolute favorite spot to sit on a subway car. Why, you might ask? Well, its much easier to avoid the crazies that inhabit city subways when you can't look them in the eyes. Anyway, I was riding the El train, through Upper Darby and into West Philly.

For anyone who doesn't know, Upper Darby is a suburb of Philadelphia in name only. You don't know you've left the city until you run across Upper Darby High School, if you don't know where you are.

But there are some truly interesting folk that got in my car between the terminal and my stop, an unremarkable thirty blocks east. First, I want to make a note that the ethnicity of the train doesn't seem to change between Millbourne (an even tinier suburb than the one I live in) and 40^th and Market Street. It is almost exclusively black in that part of West Philly.

It's not really a huge surprise, I know. It's mostly a bit of a shock when people of other races begin to get on. It usually begins at 40^th street. It's where University City begins (Upenn and Drexel campuses), which means a lot more younger people begin to come on. You start seeing more white people, more Asians, a smattering of Arabic, Indian, and Latinos. (Though the smattering of Latinos is really throughout the entire ride.) When it really starts to mix is 15^th and Market. It's the hub of the Metropolitan area. City Hall, the tons and tons of polished marble and granite, towering overhead (or, through about fifteen feet of concrete, it really depends if you're in the subway or not), the Avenue of the Arts, the Gallery, and South Street, all within walking distance, and, lets not forget, Moore College of Art and Design and UArts Philadelphia right nearby. That's when you start getting the artsy types, the punks, the guidos coming through.

Anyway, I'm not entirely sure where I was going with this. I know I was originally going to talk about subway crazies, like the guy who incessantly shakes his bottle of ice water, the guy who takes up two entire seats, the guy who lights up his crack rock two rows behind you...

But, then I'd be being mean.