Bingo is the dog.

I'm pretty sure you meant to say "Bingo is his name-O."

Matilda is running a fever, so she has spent the day in bed directly in opposition to my hopes and plans for her.

Any way you can be the one who feeds him, askye? If not, maybe just ignore him as much as possible. Don't try to pet him, but don't avoid him either. If he snarls or snaps and you retreat, he's gonna keep doing that.

Edit: I should say, "dog I cannot pet" is definitely a form of torture.

Tonight we went to the Brian Piccolo awards banquet honoring the top scholar athlete from each of the 41 high schools in Broward County. We sat at the table for the HS Brendon coaches basketball for, although the young man being honored does football, basketball, and track. Seeing and listening to these incredibly hard working and honorable young men is giving me hope for our future. The awards are based on scholastics, sports, and community service, as well as recommendations. How many of these incredible young men are immigrants? I can't know exactly, but I'll bet it is about 75%. So at the same time filled with hope seeing the level of accomplishment of our youth, and worried sick that they are hated by so many.

Providing his food would get you into, at minimum, better graces. If you're the sole feeder, usually dogs will place you higher in the Humans I Give A GoshDang About. (Dogs don't swear.)

Even not super-food motivated dogs gotta eat every day.

Flames on the side of my face FOREVER.

I always think I'm going to get/be over it and not so much.

I always think I'm going to get/be over it and not so much.

Still not over it, still angry anytime anyone mentions TVT.

Intense anxiety dream early this morning.

In the dream I had to move my desk (at my last employer), and the new location had my back to the rest of the office, so all the foot traffic would be behind me, and every passer-by would be able to see what I was working on.

There were no power outlets or network ports, and after some time spent searching for them, someone came with a tool (like the one used to make holes in golf greens) to make a hole through the carpet and into the floor to find (install?) them. Then I didn't have the right cables, and tried (and tried and tried) to wire something together, which of course didn't work -- very frustrating.

There was conversation and color and sound, and when dealing with the floor and carpet there was texture and smell.

I woke up late, and very grumpy.

I wish I could be the sole feeder but I can't. M's mom keeps giving him people food and letting him eat cat treats as well as dog food and the dog treats.

I am going to try taking him for a walk and see how that goes ..and by walk I mean down a few houses and back. And sleep on a towel so it smells more like me and put it down for him to lay on

And try to ignore him. But it's hard because as much as I did not want another animal anytime soon he is cute. At least the way his ears stick out is really cute.

I should probably not be greedy and be happy Scrappy is coming around and being a sweet cat. He gets in M's lap all the time now to be petted and I can sit next to them and pet Scrappy.

One weird hangover, since I never worked on the site, is that I keep forgetting there's no Seamus(well, there might be, right, but we don't know him.) But, yeah, had to go through it again over some of the foreign-aid stories. Maybe it's because, well, I haven't met everyone here, and even fewer of the next generation...it's like he is still in my Friends and Family folder and not my Bollocks and Illusions folder. it's not that painful--just, you know, "oh, right." but it messes with my reality a little to this day.

M's mom keeps giving him people food and letting him eat cat treats as well as dog food and the dog treats.

If she's overfeeding him, then at least the walks will be good for him.

I had a nightmare last night that my dog Dallas (who died in my arms at the vet) had died by being swept out to sea. It was very detailed and cinematic with characters and sub-plots as dreams can sometimes be.

I woke up pretty rattled and lay in bed reminding myself how she really died. Crazy. If this is a new anxiety dream (which appear on repeat)? Do. not. like.

Warwick was utterly unmotivated by food when I got him (he was anorexic for a good while). He didn't like toys. He didn't like walks. (still not big into either). He didn't want to be touched (well that's cured). It was a lot of "Good boy! Oh what a good boy!" when he did anything the least bit encouragable (as opposed to, I suppose, incorrigible) for a long time.