Gunfighter: A Modern Warrior's Life

Charlie Goes To The Hospital

As you may remember,we have a dog.  A dog named Charlie.  Charlie is a retired explosive detection dog... a bomb dog.  Charlie has been with us since November, shortly after I ran into his handler in the hall where I work, and he told me his dog had to be retired and needed a good home.

Since Charlie came home to live with us, he has adjusted quite well and is enjoying his post-career life, settling into the role of "cuddle-buddy" and best pal for the ladies in our home.  Charlie isn't overly aggressive, he doesn't bite, he only barks at anything he thinks might be an intruder and that rarely.

Charlie has a problem.

In order to keep their working drive, police dogs are rarely neutered, and so it is with Charlie, and this is a problem.

We pretty much understood when, from time to ti,e, Charlie would er... unholster his weapon.  I mean, it is only natural.  We understood the occasional "let-me-hump-the-couch-leg" incident.  We have however gotten to a "last straw" incident.

Last week, after soccergirl went upstairs to read before bed, she came back downstairs to the kitchen where I was chatting with Mrs GF.  SG was obviously upset and literally wringing her hands.  She was trembling as she said: "daddy... Charlie, and my lion... in the bathroom, and he.... he... he''" she couldn't finish.  I thought that Charlie must have gone nuts and torn her stuffed animal to bits.  I ran up the stairs to find Charlie, looking like he needed a cigarette, lying on sg's bathroom floor, next to the lion.  Please note that the lion is around three feet tall.... and was a bit of a mess.  Yeah.  That kind of a mess.

Charlie... everybody's buddy, had... um... gone to town with the stuffed lion, and my 11 year old kid saw it.

Dude.

Well, to make an uncomfortable story somewhat shorter (but no less uncomfortable), I took Charlie to the vet last week for shots and a consultation about neutering, and in a half hour, I will be leaving the house to take Charlie to do exactly that.

Charlie is laying next to me as I type this on a fine May morning... and he has no idea what's coming.  I almost feel sorry for him.

I'll let you know how things progress.

Snowmageddon, Snopocalypse, Snowverkill... Whatever, dude.

I had so many pithy things to say about this storm... er,  series of storms, but none of them really match the scope of ALL.  OF.  THIS.  SNOW!

Sure, if you are from a place that gets lots of snow, you might shrug, or even laugh at us, but here, this was a seriously big deal... and the snow plows that were available weren't coming to the resuce of the residential neighborhoods.  We were on our own.

In my county, the power lines (for the most part) are underground, so my family and our neighbors were all ok in that regard.  We had food.  We had heat and hot water, so our physical needs were met.  We had music and books, and movies and lots, and lots, and LOTS of shoveling to keep us busy, so we couldn't get possibly get bored.

The only thing that we had too much of was this:

and this:

Oh... and this:

 
To which I can only say:

 

At least Charlie had a good time!

  

The Chronicles of Charlie

Charlie has been with us for a month now, and let me tell you , he has rapidly adjusted to the life of house pet/member of the family.

One thing that has made me very happy is that Charlie and Soccer Girl have bonded fully.  He tends to sleep in her room most nights, and runs around the house frolicking with her at her insistent calls of "Charles!" (she calls him Charles).

Here are a few pictures of my new pal, in his new home.

"Aren't I handsome?"

 

"Merry Christmas!"

"I like soccer.  I just play differently than you!"   

 

Jingle Charles 

 

I will continue to keep you up to date on Charlie's new life in later posts.

 

Cheers,

GF