Yesterday was rough. | Sport bar stool



A tiny bit of pandemonium at the casa around 7am as my oldest son was outside our house doing last minute practice to parallel park ahead of his driving test later in the morning my second son was getting ready for school while packing his shit for after school soccer practice, and my wife and daughter were getting ready to fly to town because my daughter got another gig as as an extra for the release of a new film.

And what was I doing?… I was making breakfast for the whole tribe before going to escort the potential new driver to the local DMV. After which I went to HQ to register the Twisted History of Insects with Vibbs, film a quick social spot to NASCAR new food service with Spider and Quigs, then save a Zoom interview with WBC heavyweight world champion Tyson Fury before he faces Deontay Wilder for the third time next weekend in Vegas.

So 5 family members having 5 individually occupied mornings… And anyone with children can understand that this makes the household hectic.

But there are 2 other pseudo-members that I forgot to mention… I have two dogs. One is a wonderful Welsh Terrier named O’Shea Jackson and the other is a despicable French Bulldog named Blue Cheese.

Blue has been nothing but heartbreak since we got her and coming from a nearly 50 year old guy who has had dogs his whole life this fucking dog is BY FAR the worst I have ever met .

I have had all types of ethnic dogs… Irish Setters, Newfoundland, Kerry Blue Terriers, English Bulldogs, German Shepherds, Tibetan Mastiffs, English Cocker Spaniels and the aforementioned Welshie. But it was this French slut who made me completely hate French nationality.

I returned to the order “freedom fries” at the restaurant, but not out of patriotic envy. Instead, just to annoy the French Bulldog who inevitably chews my rugs at home.

Anyway, my wife saw some daylight in the morning so she put the two dogs on a leash and took them for a walk.



So to recap… I’m at the sink washing a pan stained with Taylor ham, my daughter is upstairs in her bathroom doing her hair, my middle guy is in the basement buying socks, my elder parks between plastic security pylons that I stole from a construction site and set up outside my house, and my wife rides our block with the 2 dogs.



All of a sudden I hear a very loud and confusing scream… It sounded like an old black lady putting a little too much sympathy after falling at a barbecue… Almost like a “OH LAWDY LAWDY! “-type howl.

Giphy images.

Originally, I thought maybe the TV was on too loud, but suddenly I realized the old black lady was my wife!

I ran through my front door with just a t-shirt and underpants… No shoes.

I looked at 4 houses down from mine across the street and saw my wife on the ground, snatching (not “wrestling”) our Frenchie from the jaws of an attacking German Shepherd.

I shouted, “FUCK!”… And, I believe, “OH LAWDY LAWDY! ” also.

I started running towards her at an embarrassing speed as my oldest jumped out of my brand new car to do the same.

The only problem is that my oldest child forgot to park my car, so while he was jumping the car kept moving… An offense that would certainly make him fail the road test he was due in just a few hours.

So he jumps in the car, throws it in PARK, then jumps out and starts running towards his mother with me.

By the time we got to Annie and the puppies, the shepherd’s owner had come out of his own house and quickly jumped on his uncontrollable animal. He wrestled it bravely like a fucking wild alligator, and blood could be seen spilling from the owner’s hands and face as he rolled across the concrete with his beast unleashed.

I did what any sane person would do in the situation… I picked up the little dog in my arms, then my elder, my wife, my terrier and I (with the Frenchie in tow) started running frantically towards our house before the dog broke free from his master’s suffocating grip.

The four of us went into the house and I slammed the door behind us as if there was a battalion of white marchers chasing us…

Giphy images.

… And then we collapsed to the floor, exhausted and shaken, as my other kids rushed up different floors to see what the hell was going on?

My wife’s hand was bleeding where she hit the German Shepherd in the mouth and her knee started to puff up like a balloon because she hyper-stretched it at one point during the crashing.

The bulldog’s white fur was covered in blood… Mainly from the bites on her side and hip.

The Welsh Terrier only had minor injuries to its paw pads which it acquired while running away at all as far as its telescopic leash allowed from the start of the attack. I didn’t know much about this terrier breed before I bought it except that it was a natural “ratter” (that is, he had an innate desire to hunt vermin. ), but now I know Welsh Terriers are natural cowards too… I admire that, to be honest.

My wife was furious as she sat on the floor grabbing the dog and his knee, and I instinctively called 911 because I didn’t trust myself to handle the hesitation on my own.

— I can joke about my own natural cowardice, but, as a man, when you see a family member being assaulted, you have a natural tendency to respond in the same way to the abuser. Calling the cops therefore seemed like a logical thing to do in this situation. —

The officer got to my house in about 10 minutes, and my wife limped out to explain what had happened.

I also went out to give my 2 cents, which was, “Officer, I have an 11 year old daughter who walks our dogs often… If this had happened while she was with them, she could have been seriously injured, and then I would kill the owners. “

The officer scolded me, saying that she was carrying a body camera and that I cannot make such threats on tape.

to which I replied, “Body-cam?… I don’t care if you have a fucking CREW cam… do something about that fucking dog before I go over there and kill someone.”

And then I entered.

And then I went back outside to apologize to the officer… But, again, when your family is assaulted, you do and say things that are not in your character.


Anyhoo again… The cop took a full statement from my wife and then took to the street to question the neighbor.

During this time, we had to come back to our own reality as my daughter’s shoot couldn’t be missed, my son’s driving test couldn’t be rescheduled, and my intermediary had no reason to miss the class.

So we washed Blue Cheese and made her comfortable on the sofa.

Finn walked to school and Bridget continued to prepare for her scene.

Mick drove my car back to our driveway and started preparing his papers for the DMV.

My wife called the vet and then called her mom to see if she could help us as we were all about to go our separate ways.

And I finally put on pants.

The policeman came back to our house after speaking with our neighbor and informed us that she had spoken to the husband. He was pretty messed up and expressed regret for what happened. Through the cop, he apologized and offered to pay for any damage his dog might have caused.

And it’s a real gentleman’s way of handling the situation… I really appreciated it.

When my wife asked the officer if she had seen the German Shepherd who was causing all these problems, she was told “no” because my neighbor’s wife had already left with the dog to have him slaughtered. .



Wait what?!?!



Maybe this dog had a story and it was the last straw, or maybe this family just didn’t see another way to nip this problem in the bud… source… They their dog was asleep.

I have to be honest… This was SHOCKING news to all of us.

Maybe I would have insisted on this at some point… MAYBE. But never in my wildest dreams did I think that the dog that attacked my wife and my puppies would be dead within an hour.

So now the cops are leaving, my stepmom is coming in, and the family is sort of breaking up.

My son left to deal with what happened in the social studies of the first period. My wife and daughter on the set of Billy Eichner’s new gay love story. And my son and I while waiting in line for a test drive at the Wayne, NJ DMV.

Annie called me from her car and asked me how I thought she handled it all.

And since I thought she was doing exactly what she should have faced an animal attack, I replied, “You killed him.”

And since I’m an asshole, after a second or so I added, “Literally.”

— You know… Because she was inadvertently involved in a situation that killed a dog. —

After a few moments of dead air, I could hear her and my daughter start to laugh… This is how we run things in our family. We make inappropriate jokes.

Right after they finished laughing my wife said: “Maybe we should go out for German tonight.… Which is even crazier to say, but, again, this is what we do.

And then my 11 year old son said, “Or maybe you should make a shepherd’s pie.”

So my kids are as fucked up as we are.

I haven’t spoken to the neighbors yet, but the father had come to the house to apologize while we were out and he spoke briefly to my mother-in-law.

I believe they have a few children, and while I’m angry that my people have been hurt, I also feel sorry for a family that just lost their dog… It’s a roller coaster of emotions.

Blue’s wounds have been treated by the vet, and she is fine. She’s just gonna be in pain for a few days. He gave him pain relievers which he said should be wrapped in cheese to be taken, but I took 2 more with water, and I was right as rain.

Between Twisted story and Fury yesterday, I called home to make sure Annie was okay, and she said, “Blue is resting comfortably, my knee is still tight, and it’s been a long day… But you know what that means for tonight?”

And I immediately said, “Are you saying we’re having sex with a dead dog?” “

And she said right away, “No, fucking pervert!… I mean, we’re going out for a few drinks.”

And I said, “Ohhhhhhh … My bad.”

We both use alcohol as an emotional crutch, but apparently only one of us can use animal death as an aphrodisiac.


Fast forward to today, and we’re in an awkward situation.

I walked the dogs this morning, but took them in the opposite direction of this neighbor, so it didn’t feel like I was “caring” that my two were still alive.

My daughter wants to bake cookies for the family to express her condolences, but I’m more inclined to leave that aside.

All I know is that I affectionately call my wife “Stalin” because she killed more Germans before breakfast than the rest of the family has done her whole life.

Make a report.



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