I Heart Police
I emailed the police this morning, because I spent half the night awake and worrying about that pit bull. I couldn’t sleep because I felt so powerless. Without the owner’s name and address, I wasn’t able to report him to the township and I wasn’t sure whether or not the Animal Rescue League would give me that information. I’ve been staring out my back windows waiting to catch a glimpse of those dogs all weekend so that I’d know where they came from and had no luck.
When one of the police sergeants called me back this morning, I was very surprised. The end of my email where I asked, "What am I legally allowed to do if this or another dog threatens me or my children on my property?" may have thrown up a flag that I needed a call back. Regardless, he called. He told me that he could issue a citation and that the owner would get a fine of up to $300 and that I might have to testify. I told him to go ahead with it. I want the dog’s owner to know that I’m serious about his dog not being on my property. I shouldn’t have to feel afraid at my own home or just walking to my car. The Sergeant told me he’d call the Animal Rescue League and find out the owner’s name and take care of everything.
An hour later, the Sergeant called me back. Two days after my incident with the pit bull, the dog attacked and bit someone. The Animal Rescue League took both pit bulls into custody and they are currently being quarantined for ten days. If they are determined to be dangerous animals (which the officer said will likely be the case) they will be put down.
The owner is facing fines related to the attack and other citations that the Animal Rescue League will issue in addition to the fines related to my incident. The Sergeant also told me that he will call me after the 10 days and let me know what has happened.
If the owner had kept his dogs on leashes or in his yard somehow, neither incident would have happened and the dogs would not be in their current situation. I hope that he is bombarded by fines so large that he won’t ever consider owning another dog. Obviously, he is not a responsible dog owner. It’s a shame that his animals will probably be put down due to his lack of responsibility.
I hope that whoever was attacked is o.k. I can’t even begin to tell you how relieved I am that the bite victim wasn’t one of my girls just two days earlier. I gave chocolate chip cream cheese brownies, Starbucks coffee, and a bag of biscuits from the dog bar to my neighbor and his dog for helping me. Maybe some brownies are in order for the Sergeant too?
If you can’t beat them. . .
I called the Animal Rescue League today. I wanted to thank the woman for coming so quickly to pick up the pit bull, and to inquire as to whether or not anyone claimed the dog. I spoke with the woman who came to pick him up, and then she told me that the dog lives almost right behind me. It’s owner came to pick him up. They have two pitbulls. Apparently his name is "Ace" and he’s "friendly." She wanted me to know that "in case he comes over to ‘visit’ again."
Oh and his "growling"? That’s "the way he talks." Freaking fabulous.
I am apparenty surrounded by people who have no responsibility when it comes to their dogs. With the exception of ONE neighbor (the one who helped me), everyone around me thinks it is perfectly fine to let their dogs run around the neighborhood without a leash, unattended.
News flash people: We don’t live in the country. This is suburbia. It is ILLEGAL to have an unleashed dog.
I told the neighbor who helped me about "Ace" and his response was, "Great, I’ll be sure to remember that when he’s biting my arm off." He’s a dog person and he got freaked out by the growling pit bull!
I am beyond livid about it. I’d like to have the inside of my car cleaned out and go deliver the bill to "Ace" and his owner. While I am relieved in one sense that it isn’t a fighting dog and wasn’t just dropped off somewhere, I am upset to know that this dog lives in such close proximity with an owner who doesn’t seem to care whether or not the dog is properly leashed. And, the fact that the 30 minute ordeal took place without hearing anyone yell for their dog, without anyone coming to look for their dog bothers me even worse.
I told my husband this morning that there seems to be only one thing to do. . .
If you can’t beat them, join them.
Does anyone know where I can get a pet mountain lion?
Carjacked by a Pit Bull
Today I was carjacked by a pit bull.
What? You think I'm kidding, because NO.
Lil C is sick and had a doctor's appointment this afternoon. Big I, Lil C and I went to get in our van and that's when it happened. I opened the doors automatically with the remote, and Big I was about to get in when I heard her say, "Mommy?" with this weird kind of questioning tone. Lil C was in her carseat and I was just about to buckle her in when I looked up and saw this dog come bounding into my van past Big I.
I immediately grabbed Lil C out of her seat and stepped back and told Big I to do the same. I yelled at the dog to get out of my van, but he had other plans. He jumped into the front passenger seat with his muddy feet and made himself at home.
If you've been reading my blog for a while, you know that I am NOT a big fan of dogs and that is putting it lightly. I had a suspicion that the dog was a pit bull and that made it even worse.
I flung open the passenger door and yelled at the dog to get out again. He (yes, HE, because it was obvious when he stood up and jumped) barked at me and jumped over to the driver side seat, barked some more, and also muddied that seat. I went over to that side of the car and opened the driver side door. He jumped back over to the passenger side. I was not amused.
As I stood outside in the freezing cold, clutching my sick baby and standing guard in front of my 5-year old, I started shaking. What the hell was I going to do? The dog would not get out of my van. I was quickly becoming late for our appointment, and Mr. BBM is conveniently out of town on a business trip (which he always is when crazy crap like this happens to me).
So, I rang my neighbor's doorbell. My neighbor opened his door, waved and smiled and then his jaw dropped as he looked at my van and saw this big dog sitting in my car staring defiantly at us.
"I don't know what to do. Can you PLEASE help me?" I pleaded with him. He has two dogs himself, so he said he'd come out with one of them and lure the dog out of my car. He brought out his brave dog and the pit bull immediately jumped out of the van and went running towards my neighbor's dog. They barked and jumped at each other and then the pit bull ran around them in circles for a while as I closed all the van doors and got the girls buckled in.
Once I had them safe, I got out and asked my neighbor if he thought we should call the police. The dog had a collar and some strange tattoo on its back, but no leash, no tags, and apparently no owner who was anywhere nearby. So, I called the police and they quickly told me they were busy on calls and that I should call the Animal Rescue League. (I am now seriously late for Lil C's appointment.)
I called the Animal Rescue League and the woman I spoke to first started running through all the lost dogs that had been reported in my area. "No, it's definitely NOT a poodle I told her," and "No, it doesn't have curly hair." I told her it had markings like a cow and that it was definitely MALE and that it was a muscular dog with a pushed in face and she said, "You don't think it's a pit bull do you?" I told her that had been my first impression and then she asked me to hold.
Meanwhile, my awesome neighbor (who is totally getting a bottle of wine and some cake, minimum), is outside in the freezing cold, watching my children who are snug in the van and using his dog as bait. Do I owe him or what?
Another woman gets on the phone and now there is no messing around. "Where do you live?" she said. She asked for my phone number and I told her I had to leave so I went outside to ask my neighbor for his phone number. As he's relaying the number to me, the pit bull comes running and barking at me. I had to slam the door to keep him from charging in my house. And now I'm wondering how I'm even going to get out to my van. You don't exactly learn self defense against dogs in karate, and I highly doubt that shaking so bad that my knees knock and shrieking is an effective strategy.
The woman said she was on her way and I went out to tell my neighbor. I also told him I had to leave because I was now a good 20 minutes late for Lil C's appointment. He said it wasn't a problem (maybe he deserves a gift certificate for dinner too?) and I jumped in my van and drove away.
When I got to the doctor's office, I apologized for being late and said that I knew this was going to sound like "The dog ate my homework" excuse, but that I had some stray pit bull jump in my van and was unable to get him out, etc. etc. etc. News spread like wildfire and since I had the doctor's sympathy I was pretty close to asking him for some anti-anxiety meds because, MAN, DID I NEED SOMETHING!
After an ear infection diagnosis and a stop at the very crowded pharmacy where Lil C was fascinated with the shelves containing boxes of condoms, which made Big I ask me about 10,000 questions about what they were and what they're used for, etc. etc. etc. (Can I tell you how fried my nerves are????), we made our way home. (The answers to her questions, by the way, were "Ask me in 10 years or so". . . which amused the other waiting sick people at the pharmacy to no end. Somehow it's not so amusing when it's YOUR 5-year old asking the questions).
Once home, my neighbor told me that while waiting for the Animal Rescue League, he had to go in his house at one point because the dog started growling at him and he got a little scared. When the woman from the ARL pulled up, the dog went right to her, but then started to growl at her as well. She confirmed that it was definitely a pit bull, and she asked my neighbor to apologize to me for all the poodle questions etc. that the first girl dealt out on the phone. Whatever. I'm just glad that the dog is not running around in my front yard, carjacking people anymore.
My neighbor and I were then discussing this odd tattoo on the dogs back. It looked like it was written in Chinese or something. We were both wondering if the dog wasn't one of those basement fighting dogs that had become injured and just dropped off somewhere. It ran fine, but when it was standing still it would hold it's left leg up a bit. And that's when it hit me how very lucky we were today. That situation could have ended very badly. And whoever owns or owned that dog??? Here's a big virtual SLAP for you.
So, because being carjacked by a dangerous dog wasn't enough excitement for one day, I decided that since it wasn't already snowing, Big I and I would go to karate tonight. I dropped Lil C off at my parent's house and we went to karate. It was just cold, no snow in sight when we went in the dojo. There are no windows in the dojo, so when I opened the door and saw Antarctica I was a bit shocked.
I hate driving in snow. Once when Mr. BBM and I were in college, we were in a Thanksgiving day pile up on a major highway after a tractor trailer struck and totaled our car during a freak snow squall.
This was a complete white out and I had trouble seeing the road. It should have taken me 15 minutes, but instead it took me a good 45 just to get to Lil C. I then loaded her in the car and it took another 45 minutes to get back home. There were accidents on the road, cars that were stuck or sitting on the side of the road, and complete idiots driving entirely too fast who were all making me very nervous. I have never been so happy to get home.
Then, since Mr. BBM is out of town, I had to take over his job of feeding my cats. My one cat proceeded to eat some of his food and then barf it back into his bowl.
Is this day over yet? Seriously, because being carjacked by a pit bull, having a toddler with an ear infection, having to divert questions from my 5-year old about condoms, driving through snow squalls and having to clean up cat puke all in one day????
It's a little much.
When I was tossing around the idea of starting a blog, I used to read Amalah and think about all the crazy weird stuff that happened in her life and how mine was relatively "vanilla" in comparison. Amalah can make a trip to IKEA sound like a trek around the world, and crazy stuff happens to her!!! And just last week, someone left a homeless fish in Dooce's driveway! How weird is that? But apparently, my house is now the dumping ground for tattooed pit bulls and I'm thinking that if things keep up like this, there will be no shortage of blog fodder anytime soon.
And now, it is 12:04 AM.
I've managed to actually make it through this day.
Edited to add: To all the visitors from Cracked.com, welcome! And just to add to your discussion, Batman isn't real dude. I'm a Mom and I was holding a baby and protecting a 5-year old at the time. Mad ninja skills don't work when you're wearing your Mom costume. Glad you find amusement at this; also glad I also can now. . . now that I've moved.
The Danger of Recorded Material
Last night I was watching this week’s episode of 24 from our Tivo with my husband. He’s not very good about fast-forwarding through commercials. During a break, there was a little blurb from Fox News about "black ice" and "dangerous driving conditions in the morning." Since I drive Big I to school each morning, I sat straight up and said, "What did they say? I thought it was supposed to be warmer tomorrow."
My husband paused with a smirk on his face before reminding me that we were watching a recorded show from Monday night. "Oh," I said, and then told him that it reminded me of the time when I was a teenager and called the local radio station hoping to be the 25th caller. He hadn’t ever heard that story; it must have been one of the ones I deemed too embarrassing to share, even with him. But the cat was out of the bag, so I continued. . .
I heard the announcement that the station was doing to give away concert tickets to the 25th caller. It was probably for Vanilla Ice, New Kids on the Block, or something equally embarrassing to be admitting. I dialed fast and furiously and the DJ casually answered the phone.
"Am I the 25th caller?" I screamed.
"Huh? What are you talking about?" he said.
"I said, Am I the 25th caller?" I yelled again. I could barely contain my excitement.
Just then, the recorded mix tape of radio songs I had made reached the end and abruptly stopped. I quickly hung up the phone and was too afraid to listen to the radio station that night for fear that they’d be featuring the idiot who called asking about being the 25th caller when that contest had been over for months. I could only hope he hadn’t answered the call live and that if he had, none of my friends would recognize my voice.
My husband lost it and practically shot his drink out his nose. I’m just happy I can provide him (and all of you) with enjoyment at my fragile ego’s expense.
No Sew Zone
Filed under: Favorite Posts, Mental Strain for Mama
When I was in Junior High, I had Home Economics classes. We learned how to cook things, clean up after ourselves and also how to sew. I was not looking forward to the sewing part. But when it was my turn, I gave it everything I had. I started by making a football shaped pillow which turned out so fabulously well that I began grabbing scraps of material at home and sewing additional pillows. Pillow sewing rocked.
When sewing pillows got dull, I got super ambitious. We had a Valentine’s Day dance coming up and I decided that instead of making my Mom take me to the mall for a new outfit, I was going to make an outfit for myself. I graduated from high school in 1993, so you can probably do the math and figure out that when I was in junior high school, there were a whole lot of fashion no-no’s and nightmares.
Take M.C. Hammer pants for example, which is what I decided I absolutely must make for the dance. Mine would not be metallic. Instead, I opted for a nice peach color. The pants were pleated and baggy at the top and then tapered to their ankle choking end. I measured and cut and was convinced that these pants were going to be amazing.
Because a girl can’t wear just pants to a dance, I needed a shirt to match. So, what better to go with M.C. Hammer pants than a 3/4 length sleeved baseball style top. The sleeves were peach to match the pants and the front and back of the shirt was a complementary paisley pattern with peach and cream colors. It was going to be an amazing outfit to stand on the sidelines through the Guns and Roses slow songs that would be played.
In fact, it was going to be such an amazing outfit that I got extra material and decided to make a pair of purple pants and a purple paisley baseball shirt to go with them as well. On the day of the dance, I could decide which color to wear. You know what they always say right? If you find something you like, that flatters you, buy it in every color. Well, I was making my new wardrobe and it was going to be flawless.
Dances were such a treat. We had them every other month or so and every girl always got her hopes up, me included of course, that our "Prince Charming" would somehow find a way to detach his butt from his chair in the corner and get up to ask you to dance to something like "Every Rose has Its Thorn." Or, if they were really ambitious they might attempt "Girl you know it’s true" by Milli Vanilli in case they wanted to show off their running rabbit moves or something.
As the Valentine’s dance quickly approached, I worked tirelessly on my smashing outfit. I even went during study halls, and before and after school when it got to be crunch time. With my permed, spiked hair and peach (or purple) Hammer pants, I was going to be a star.
With two days left to go, I finished my outfit. I got an A on the outfit and my teacher was impressed that I made, not one, but two outfits. I couldn’t wait to try it on and see how incredible I was going to look so I took my new digs to the girls bathroom and gave them a whirl. They seemed to fit just fine but when I went out to the mirror I was very disappointed.
The pants were entirely too baggy in the butt and front. The bubbling pant effect was just not right. The shirt looked like it belonged to a girl three years younger and just hung there. It was not a dance worthy outfit. In fact, it was barely worthy of being called pajamas. I ripped it off, stuck it in my backpack and never wore it again.
When I got home, I begged my Mom to take me to the mall where the Deb shop delivered as usual. I went to the dance and spent the night staring across the floor at the group of boys wondering why they even bothered to come if they weren’t ever going to even get off their butts. And then I went home and never sewed again. . .
Until karate. Have you ever noticed those patches that seem to be on everyone’s gi’s? Big I’s gi is currently patch-less and mine is missing one of the ones I should have on there. Today, I attempted to sew the patches on the arms of our gi’s. After sewing less than an inch I had stabbed myself half a dozen times, and managed to tangle the thread to the point that the only option was ripping it out. Currently, Big I’s patch is hanging by a thread and I’m just hoping that I see my Mom before we have to go to karate because the only way I will succeed in getting these patches onto our gi’s is by using super glue.
Considering that super glue doesn’t even hold karate guys on trophies, I’m not very optimistic about it. Hey, at least my expectations have become more realistic since Junior High.
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