This nice doggie site is wonderful. It doesn't just include examples of media bias and reflections on how to combat Breed-Specific Legislation (BSL); it also has lots of pretty pictures of lovable Pit Bulls.

Since yesterday was the day of the Big Nonprofit Meeting, I stayed over at my mom's place on Friday night. I usually ask her to take the dog in with her at night and close the door, so I don't have to worry about putting all my gear and books and purse and jewelry up/out of reach.

But the other night the puppy sounded like she wasn't settling down quite yet, so I went in and brought her back out to the hall. My mother got up later to get her midnight snack and found us curled up together on the rug. Apparently, I didn't wake up when the mom raided the refrigerator, but she checked the dog bowl and got out some dry food. I hear that was too much for Mandy, who had to desert me so she could go into the kitchen and show my mother what a good dog she was. There is, as I understand it, genuine magic in the sound of a dog-food canister.

So I woke up alone and went back to bed—which means the back couch in the family room at my mom's.

In the morning my mother came back out, and the dog with her. Mandy jumped onto the end of the couch, and curled up there at my feet while my mother made breakfast.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 01:16 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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My mother doesn't mind my keeping beer in her fridge, or a bottle of vodka in her closet.

She refuses to let me leave Cheerios there, however.

Of course, what she doesn't know can't possibly hurt her. (Unless she finds it, in which case I'll simply disavow. And, yes—that is, in fact, a word, though one wonders how much currency it enjoyed before the 1960s.)

Posted by: Attila Girl at 04:01 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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