Lolly, the Courageous!

Everyone that follows me knows Poppy, the dog on the left. I've had him since he was a puppy. On the right is Lolly who I adopted from a rescue organization on January 3rd of this year. When I took this pic this morning, I was talking silliness to the dogs trying to get a good pose. I don't think I need to point out the differences in body language between the two. Hopefully, after Lolly has been with me for one year, she will look just as bright and happy as Pop.

After 3 1/2 months, I have learned what Lolly's life must have been like just by how she reacts to what goes on around her.

First, let's discuss her physically. She has stretch marks on her belly and the skin hangs. This is because she was bred over and over again.

You can't really tell from this pic, but even though she looks like a Chihuahua, her markings are Jack Russell and boy does she act like one! She can jump vertically at least 3 feet in the air from a stationary position no problem. I have seen her do a 360 degree twist in the air. She plays with toys by tossing them around and growling them. When it is just her and I on a walk, she keeps the pace quick. She barks at loud vehicles, like trucks and motorcycles, that pass by with a ferocity that means business. She's a little machine and I love that about her.

Senator, my 20 lb Tuxedo cat, was used to ruling the roost. Imagine his surprise when he met Lolly and she was having none of it! She is fearless when it comes to Senator so it's her way or the highway. They've come to an agreement of sorts and I only have to reign her in a few times a day now.

Lolly is very particular when it comes to men. She sizes them up quickly, like she can see into their hearts, and if you don't pass, she lets you know it. I did see something amazing, though, during one of our walks. We were stopped because one or the other smelled something interesting in the grass. I looked over and saw a man walking our way. He was dressed in white with paint spatters all over. There was something about him. I immediately recognized that he was gentle and kind.

As I said, Lolly doesn't trust men but as he came closer both of the dog's heads popped up and noticed him. I knew Poppy would be friendly; I was waiting to see what Lolly did. She started wagging her tail! Both dogs waited for him to get closer in the hopes he would stop and pet them, which he did. He spoke mostly Spanish so our communication was more in smiles while he crouched down and gave each dog loving. That is the only time, so far, that I have seen Lolly immediately give her trust away to a man.

I think she views life as eat or be eaten. Take no prisoners. Lolly likes to quote part of a speech Blake made to the sales team in the movie Glengarry Glen Ross, "Put. That coffee. Down. Coffee's for closers only. You think I'm fucking with you? I am not fucking with you."

But, if you look at the pic above, you see a dog that is still expecting the worst. When I call her to go out, I have to go looking for her because instead of running to me with exuberance, like Pop does,  she is lying on her back, belly up, in a submissive position. When I pick her up it is like lifting a wet noodle. She doesn't perk back up until we are out of the house.

The broom is her arch enemy, even more than Senator. I was horrified the first time I went to sweep the floor. She took one look at it and became extremely aggressive. I thought to myself, "So, someone teased and attacked you with a broom - repeatedly." 

Since I've been sick, I've had both dogs on the bed with me while I've napped. One afternoon I reached over to scratch Lolly's sides while making a "ch-ch-ch" noise. She whipped her head around growling and showing her teeth. Poppy sees these things I do as they are meant - being playful. Not Lolly. This was torture.

When I first got her and would pick her up, she would grab onto me and try to get up on my shoulder. Through repetition, she has learned that my arms are a safe place and she can relax. When I put her on the bed, she would scramble out of my arms out of fear. Now she waits to be gently placed on the bed. She used to growl when I kissed her head. Now she accepts the affection. Lolly is learning confidence in love, safety in love, and that fear and self-preservation are not necessary.


I thought she had come a long way in a short period of time until this morning's picture taking session. While she has made some strides, my desire for her to be happy has caused me to have unrealistic goals. It doesn't matter, though. She is here to stay and with time will blossom into the dog she was always supposed to be.

Mexi-Ghetto Regulations!

If I don't recognize the number displayed on my cell phone, I won't answer it.  However, when Restricted lit up my phone late Saturday afternoon, I picked up.  It was the animal services officer that last visited the family up the street.  She was responding to an email requesting I call her.  She gave me good and bad news.

1. It is not against regulations to have a dog in a crate in a doghouse.  During each of the three visits the officer saw that water was being provided for the dog and on one of the visits the owner was outside playing with the dog.  I told her that is rare and I could count on one hand the times I have seen that.  I also think it is pretty convenient that that happened when it did since the dog was a crying mess when I heard and saw it.

2. The dog was found to be healthy.

3. Having a piece of plywood in front of the door with about a foot of space at the top was not against regulation because there was air getting in.  When I said there was no way there was air circulation and it was more like a hot box she said she would have to witness it and make a decision at that time.

4. When I asked about the dog getting exercise she said that the officer could talk to the owners about it.  Here again, being in a crate was not against regulation.

It ended with her telling me she understood what I was saying but that they must abide by the regulations set forth even though it may not be the way she or I would treat our pets.  She also reassured me that I should call animal services whenever I think something isn't right and they will always go check on the dog.  At least she didn't think I was being overprotective and ask that I stop calling.

That's about it in a nutshell.  Kind of anticlimactic but at least she listened, was respectful, and I knew she cared.

Mexi-Ghetto

Politically incorrect but true

I have written about the positives about my neighborhood in spite of the illegal activity and low income that surrounds me.  Since I am the minority, I make myself as invisible as possible and interact only when there is no doubt it is welcome.  For the most part this is a "Hear no evil, See no evil, Speak no evil" zone not only for me, but for the others, too.  There are quite a few people living across the street from me in housing that has been split up to make apartments, some of which are probably one room studios, using the term studio loosely.  They don't want any trouble, either.  Life is hard enough.

If you would please look at the above map, I live in the Mexi-Ghetto/Ghetto-Lite section.  What is a white girl sliding into her mid-fifties doing living there, you ask?  I have a whole house to myself and my rent, which I can afford, includes wireless internet.  Utilities are very low, too, as sometimes my landlord doesn't even charge me for my part of the bill.  He's got his office in the attached garage and pays the first $100.  My mother finds it very disturbing that I live here in this neighborhood.  I don't blame her for feeling that way.  The only way I live with it myself is to not think about it until I am forced to by events that happen around me.  Lately there have been a few events that, duty-bound, I have had to poke my head out of my shell and acknowledge.

Fairness has been big with me going back to when I was a child.  Everything had to be fair.  Is this a middle child syndrome or because I am a Libra?  I don't know.  It just is and I have had to accept it and, at times, temper the drive to force it.  Even though it makes me crazy, it is not always possible to bulldoze fairness into a situation.  Other people don't always see things as I do and while I excel at debate and friendly arguing (I've been told over and over that I should have been a lawyer.) not everyone is going to agree with me all of the time.

Two doors up is a Hispanic family (hence the "Mexi-Ghetto") with a son that is probably around 13 years old and a younger son and daughter still in single digits.  I liked them until they got a puppy.  It is probably a Chihuahua/Terrier mix larger than Poppy with the same colors.  The kids used to take the dog for walks until it wasn't fun anymore.  Now that it has been one year since they got it, I have seen some disturbing activity and so I've called Animal Services on three separate occasions.  I'm actually calling the Sheriff's non-emergency number since it was after hours but in the end they have the authority to dispatch an Animal Service's Officer.

This is way outside of my rule of invisibility.

One day I noticed the family had bought the dog a pretty yellow doghouse.  Then I noticed the dog in a crate in the dog house clearly upset and barking its little head off.  It became commonplace to see a mop and mop bucket drying outside their door.  Well, maybe this was a one time deal.  It wasn't and after seeing the poor dog locked up a couple of days in a row I had to call Animal Services.  I didn't see any water provided and this was outside in the heat when it gets to a real feel of 105 degrees.  Their yard is completely fenced in.  What is wrong with letting the dog run around?

The next day the crate was no longer in the doghouse but not much longer afterward it was back and so was the dog.  On to my second call to the Sheriff.  Once again a change was made but it didn't last.  Plus, it was worse.  Not only was the dog in the crate in the doghouse, add to that a piece of plywood in front of the doghouse so that not only could the dog not see out but people couldn't see in, either.  There was about a 1 foot space for air to get in and I am sure there was no circulation.  This was solitary confinement.

At this point I am seeing red.  I don't care if those kids prostrate themselves on the floor crying their eyes out to the animal services officer.  I want this dog to stop being tortured.  I explain the situation for the 3rd time adding the new development.  I am so upset I am on a tear.  Again I am promised Animal Services will be sent out.  About 20 minutes later when I take the trash to the road for pick-up I see the officer walking up to their door.  I hope this will finally get the dog out of there and to a better life.

The next day, which was yesterday, I see the dog outside in the yard running around.  I have more than one call into the officer to find out what is going on.  They can't give me the information over the phone and I can't leave work to walk in and ask for it.  I leave a message asking for the officer to call me. It is now 6:15 pm I have heard nothing.  I was assured earlier today that the officer has my message asking her to call me and she will.

I am mad about this for two reasons.  The first is the health of the dog.  The second is what this is teaching the kids.  I want them to know that this is not the way a pet should be treated.  I want them to become defenders of the defenseless, not continuing the chain of cruelty.  I don't want this behavior perpetuated.  By allowing this to continue, Animal Services is just as guilty as the adults in this family.

I'm sure after reading this you aren't in the mood to hear about how I was woken up at 2:30 in the morning a few days ago by door banging, yelling, and cop activity across the street.