A BSL Night Before Christmas, and gifts for the Frenchie with everything

Having a hard time shopping for your overly pampered Frenchie? Cashmere sweaters not cutting it? Gucci dog bed just way too sissy for your kick ass Bully boy? Did your fussy Frenchie female sneer at the 52 carat diamond dog collar you hawked the house to buy?

spok_in_metal-420x306.jpgDon’t despair.

We’ve found the perfect gift for the Frenchie who wants to express their inner Mad Max Road Warrior – custom made armour.


$500, and well worth the cost, and useful for the dog who plans to take on those bunnies that keep invading your garden every spring (those bunnies have pretty sharp teeth, you know!).

war_squirrel_elite_2-482x645.jpgActually, since Frenchies are smaller than Pits, maybe the squirrel armour would suit them better.


I imagine you could also have it custom made for your Hamster or Gerbil, for those of you still looking for the perfect gift idea for your pocket pet. Hey, imagine the cat’s surprise when he comes face to face with an armour clad Gerbil? Way more fun than one of those exercise balls.

Finally, for all of us living with Breed Specific Legislation, I present ‘A BSL Night Before Christmas‘.

Hope left it in the comments for my ‘Christmas Wish List’, but it’s just too good not to get re-printed.

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
The stockings where hung by the chimney with care
In the hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there

But at the North Pole sudden changes arose
All down to Rudolph and his ruby red nose
Clipboard in hand, a breed expert arrived
He motioned to Santa saying,” please step aside”.

A smooth haired coat and a muscular build
A broad deep chest our Rudolph did yield
The breed expert’s pen, created pages of ticks
Then he suddenly called out “good lord, we’ve been tricked!”

“This creatures no donkey and clearly no horse!
I know these things! I’ve attended the course!”
Look at my clipboard the boxes are full!
It’s very obvious to me: Rudolph is a pit bull!

Out with the measuring sticks, he explained to Santa the law
And he measured poor Rudolph from shoulder to floor.
As the spectacle continued Santa said with a sigh
He’s a reindeer you fool! Why must he die?

“The law is the law” the expert said standing tall,
Then picked up his mobile and made a quick call
The sound of sirens filled the peaceful night air
And Rudolph removed – to who knew where?

Days turned to weeks and confused and alone
Rudolph pined, for the place he called home
As the first snow started falling Rudolph gave up the fight
And he took his last breath on a cold winters night

You may think this is funny, if a little untrue.
But how would you like it, if it happened to you?
If your dog was taken because of its look?
Because it ticked enough boxes in some silly book?

Regardless of parentage it doesn’t matter what breed
If it ticks enough boxes then it’s a done deed
So humor me here and pretend this is true
Think how you would feel if it happened to you.

Cuddle your hounds while you have them close by
For some spend this Christmas, waiting to die.
Now back to the story, it doesn’t end there
One more short verse I need to share

Santa fetched Rudolph’s body and cried for his friend
And swore to himself, this would not be the end
And I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight
“The law is wrong, please help us to fight!”

Once again, imitation *doesn't* equal flattery

An update: These guys don’t just steal text, they steal photos, as well. Their picture of ‘Abby’ was stolen from Bulldog Ally. This increases the chances that they’re actually just a wire transfer scam.

Well, I had no idea that I breed Bull Terriers and English Bulldogs….You’d think I would have noticed them running around the house, especially since I apparently have a gazillion of them. So, if you run across this site when searching for me, please rest assured you are in the wrong place. Way, way wrong.


The total and utter nerve of some people just slays me. Plus, if I ever design a site that sucks as much as this one, I hope all my fingers fall off. I won’t even comment on how their poor Frenchies look, since it isn’t their fault their owner is a halfwit.


ps: This is for the search engines, since leksidebullys.com is apparently coming up when people search for Absolut Bullmarket. Lekside Bullys are liars, and, judging by their prices, they’re probably a wire transfer rip off scam. Do not buy an English Bulldog puppy, French Bulldog puppy, or Bull Terrier puppy from Lekside Bullys or www.leksidebullys.com . They’re morons, and their web site sucks, too.

My Christmas Wish List

Dear Santa Claus:

I know you’re really busy this time of year, what with the last minute gathering of the gifts, and the packing of the sleigh. I don’t want to take up much of your time, and, even if I did, I’m not sure how much attention you’d pay to the wish list of a non believing ethnic atheist Jew. That said, if you have some spare time, could you look over my wish list and see if there’s anything you can do?

I’d really appreciate it.

Thanks in advance,


My Wish List

Adequate SpaceI wish that not one single dog, whether Frenchie or Lab or Doodle or any other breed, is spending their Christmas in a cage that looks like this one.

I wish that there was some kind of deity who could give the people who operate puppy mills the kind of punishment they deserve.

I wish that every politician who allowed legislation to pass saying that this much space is legal was forced to spend just one night in a cage that gives them ‘adequate room for exercise’.

I wish that every single stupid celebrity who bought a throw-away puppy from a pet shop was forced to visit the puppy mill where their dog’s parents still live. While there, I want them to actually see the bitch who gave birth to their puppy. Then, I wish on her the gift of speech, so she could curse them to hell (using small words that even Britney and Paris could understand).

I wish that every single Pit Bull in the world could have a home as good as the Pit Bulls of Bad Rap.

For every Sophie in the world, I wish for soft beds, warm laps, cookie stuffed kongs, soft words of kindness, people who care, and the chance to spend the remainder of their lives living in dignity and compassion.

I wish that pet stores would finally be banned from selling live animals, including bunnies.

I wish all of the K Kids have safe, happy trips to their new homes, and that there’s no longer a reason for dogs like Cosette to need French Bulldog Rescue.

I wish that the stupid, ridiculous, pointless, ‘Dangerous Dog‘ legislation here in Ontario, and all over the world, could be over turned, so that legislation based on pragmatic reality could instead be introduced.

Most of all, I wish for the basics we all ask for – peace on earth, and good will towards men – and animals. Can we not forget the animals this year?

How to spend a Saturday

How was your weekend? Really? That good? Awesome. Mine was the typical, obsessed, dog breeder’s weekend.

Here’s a re-cap.

How A Dog Breeder Spends Her Saturday

Get in car, drive three hours, cross border. When asked ‘Purpose of visit?’ contemplate answering ‘Picking up pregnant dog’, decide against it, answer ‘Shopping’, instead.

Drive two more hours, arrive at meet up location. Consider how correct Barb was in suggesting that an outlet mall, two weekends before Christmas, might not be ideal as a meeting spot. Shrug, buy and drink fourth coffee of day, and thank God for Starbucks.

Meet Barb, get Mae and assorted dog supplies, get back in car, drive back to border again, with quick stop at Walmart to pick up vacuum and snow shovel. Don’t even bother lying to border guard when he asks you purpose of trip. Watch border guard’s eyes glaze over as you explain the complexities of co ownership. Drive away amazed he let you bring $150 worth of electronics back without charging you duty.

Grab more coffee, stretch legs, let Mae out to pee, get back on road to face three hour trip home from border.

Notice that gas tank is almost on empty, and boyfriend seems to feel no rush to fill up. Feel eyes glazing over as he explains that the ‘e’ light actually means car can make it another 50 kilometers or more. Feel horror mounting as boyfriend smugly recaps recent 20-20 show confirming that ‘e’ light is warning, then anger growing as idiot boyfriend mentions website where people (all guys, you are sure) recount how far they made it with their cars on ‘e’. Tell boyfriend in graphic detail what kind of bodily harm you will inflict on him if he even thinks about driving on empty while you and pregnant dog are in car with him.

Notice that it’s snowing, curse. Loudly.

Watch boyfriend drive past gas station because he ‘doesn’t like their gas’. Contemplate hitting him with shovel after he tells you that gas is so different at different stations (unlike shoes, which are all the same) which is a clear analogy to your preference for shoes from Browns instead of Payless. Explain quality of shoes to him and how important manufacturing process and materials are, unlike gas, which all comes from same squished up prehistoric gunk. Reach for shovel when he rolls eyes.

Find ‘acceptable’ gas station, fill up car, let Mae our for another pee, get back on road.

Notice it’s snowing more heavily, curse. Even more loudly.

Drive two hours in zero visibility. Contemplate just why on earth you have a Chipmunks Christmas song on your iPod. Twice.

Pick up fast food, let Mae out for another pee, eat fast food in car.

Arrive home, discover dogs have knocked down baby gate and have gone on Texas Chainsaw massacre style pee fest in upstairs of house. Remind yourself that you meant to pick up paper towels while you were out.

Wrangle dogs, clean up pee, crate dogs, arrange Mae in quiet room.

Visit Bunny and puppies, discover Bunny has eaten corners off of box spring, christen her ‘DumbDumb Bubblegum’ for her habit of chewing everything in sight. Clean up ten gazillion puppy poos and pees. Wonder why you don’t just have cats.

Get boyfriend to feed dogs while you’re tending to Bunny and kids. After feeding, he puts stopper in sink so he can soak bowls. Boyfriend notices pee on floor, goes to clean up, gets distracted, probably by contemplation on whether its possible to drive to Florida on quarter tank of gas.

Forget about running sink.

Hear boyfriend screaming, discover forlorn dogs watching flood waters rising towards crates. Giggle, but internally only.

Clean up dog room floor, using towels, because you forgot to buy paper towels, dammit dammit dammit.

Put in laundry.

Contemplate trading dogs for cats. Small, quiet cats. Stuffed cats, from Steiff.

Head for bed, leaving boyfriend surfing tankonempty.com

Throw shoe at his head.

Snow, snow, snow – and puppies

Well, we’ve had our first real snowfall – that snow that isn’t going anywhere, at least not until spring. Sean spent a good two hours outside shovelling out the dog runs and walkways. See? Boyfriends can be useful!

I also took some new pix of the Bunny pups, including a few of Dexter, the puppy formerly known as Nigel. I wanted to name him Prince Symbol, but Barb outvoted me.

There’s also a photo in there of Mae, who is as big as a house, and not very happy about it. A week to go at the most, Mae Mae! Hang in there!

Here are a few of the photos, or click here to see them full sized on Flickr.