Pasado's Take a Page from the HSUS Playbook

Did anyone else receive the “help us care the 600 puppy mill dogs!!!!” email from Pasado’s Safe Haven?

I hadn’t heard about the case at the time, but I immediately found some links to it, and was surprised at the lack of mentions of Pasado’s in all of the coverage. Lots of talk about a small, grassroots group called “SPOT” (Saving Pets One at a Time) and Everett Animal Services, but nothing about Pasado’s. Huh.

Today in my inbox, I found this article about the rescue efforts. What immediately jumped out at me was this paragraph:

Some groups, including Pasado’s Safe Haven of Monroe, have challenged Snohomish County for not enlisting their help caring for the rescued dogs.

The help isn’t needed and the dogs are receiving excellent care, Lubrin said Monday. It’s also important to keep the dogs in one place as investigators continue to develop a possible criminal case, she said.

Shame on Pasado’s for taking a page from the HSUS fund raising playbook, while the grassroots groups actually housing the animals are crying out for donations. Doing a few pro bono spays on the seized dogs hardly justifies this kind of misleading fund raising. I hope they plan on turning over the money raised to the shelter that’s currently almost going broke caring for the dogs.

I’m not holding my breath, however.

Small Dogs, Big Hearts

It’s funny how many people assume that there’s something comical about the idea of a little dog trying to fight off an attacker. All of those humorous cartoons and movies have given us the image of a tiny dog, latched onto someone’s ankle, while they shrug and continue on with what they were doing.

Years ago, I had an office in the fashionable Toronto neighbourhood of Yorkville. We were on the second floor, and I’d often keep the back fire escape door propped open in the summertime, to try and catch some semblence of a breeze. One night, coming back from refilling  my coffee pot in the small kitchenette down the hall, I found a man rifling through my purse behind my desk.  He was relatively well dressed, in his twenties, and didn’t seem at all phased to see me – in fact, he sort of glanced at me, shrugged, and went back to what he was doing. That’s when I noticed the large hunting knife strapped to his belt, and that’s when I screamed.

I had Tara with me at work that night. Tara was 21 pounds of cranky red and white French Bulldog. She came to me after she’d systemically slaughtered two cats n her previous home, and while it took us a while to come to an understanding (namely, you don’t kill my cats, and I’ll stop jumping out from behind the furniture and screeching “NOOOO!” whenever you glance at them), we eventually ended up inseperable.

Like most of the cranky red and white dogs I’ve known in my time, Tara was loving and gentle with people, so I was shocked when she bared her teeth and launched herself at the stranger in my office. When he swung his foot at her, Tara snarled with anger and latched onto his calf. He screamed, and headed back out onto the rickety, open metal fire escape – with Tara still attached to his leg.

Down one whole flight of stairs, he swing his leg in attempt to bash her head against the stairs, or to fling her off to a story and half plunge onto concrete. My little girl hung on, and I finally realized that I had a full glass coffee pot of water in my hand. I threw it – hard – and struck him in the middle of the forehead. He stumbled, Tara let go, and he fell down the remaining half flight of stairs. I scooped up Tara, carried her up the stairs, called 911, and checked her for injuries. Her face was covered in blood, but once I’d wiped it off, I realized that none of it was hers.

When the police arrived, they found a puddle of blood at the bottom of the fire escape, but no sign of the intruder. They also found a puddle of water and the remains of my coffee pot. After taking my report, and giving me a brief lecture on the virtues of keeping doors locked at night, they mentioned that someone fitting his description had attacked several people in my area – specifically, in the parking lot that my fire escape led down to (and that I also parked my car in). They also told me that someone had broken into the art gallery below me and slashed several paintings. He was picked up a few days later, in our neighbourhood, after creating a scene at the Schizophrenic out reach office around the corner. I admit I remained nervous for a while longer, but having 21 pounds of cranky little Frenchie sitting at my feet every night made coming in to work tolerable.

All of this is a way of leading in to this story out of Florida, about a Boston Terrier who ran off his owner’s attacker –

“The female dog, she saw her owner being attacked. The woman did try to fight off her attacker, but it was the Boston Terrier that came to the rescue. [The dog] came right in there, bit this man on his right shoulder,”

Never underestimate the little dogs – what they lack in size, they more than make up for in heart.

This is not good news

The AKC’s ‘top ten most popular breed‘ stats are out.

We’re 26 overall, but in LA:

The most popular breeds for L.A.:

1. Labrador retriever
2. Bulldog
3. German shepherd
4. Golden retriever
5. Yorkshire terrier
6. French bulldog
7. Poodle
8. Pug
9. Pomeranian
10. Maltese

We need to start telling people that this is a horrid, lousy breed that NO ONE should ever own, before we make it into the top ten.

Personally, the next time someone from LA calls me about a puppy, I’m going to tell them that they shed constantly, fart incessantly, pee on everything and do crack in back alleys for fun.

I tell them most of that already, but maybe the crack part will seal the deal.

On second though, considering it’s LA, maybe I’ll casually throw this in – “Hey, did you know that every celebrity who has ever bought a Frenchie has had their very next movie bomb? I’m sure it’s just a coincidence, though”.

Update: Crap. I just noticed we’re number four in New York City. Maybe we can casually suggest a link between owning a French Bulldog, and having you real estate value drop (or your rent controlled apartment go co op).

Another Jamboree Update

As I’ve mentioned, the French Bulldog Jamboree is JUST LIKE summer camp, complete with shared cabins (albeit three to four bedroom cabins with their own kitchen and fireplace).

We understand that some people would prefer to be able to pick their bunk mates, so we’re drawing up a map of the cabins, and we’ll be adding the reservation details to it once a week, as I get them from the nice folks at Homestead Resort.

I hope to have it up on the site at the end of next week.

Also, I STILL desperately need some happy helper volunteers, because folks? This thing is rapidly getting bigger and much more fabulous than I had imagined. We’d figured maybe a dozen crazy Frenchie folks would show up – now we’re thinking close to fifty or sixty, at the least! Yikies!

So, still needed:

— greeters to hand out welcome badges
— donations for the raffle (you can just bring them with you, but let me know)
— a media person (believe it or not, I’ve had two contacts from press asking about coming out to cover it, heaven only knows why)
— someone to do the obedience demo and talk
— any handlers want to do the pre sanction match handling demo?
— good grief, whatever else you think I’ve missed

Email me, and let’s talk!

I also really, really, REALLY need someone to drw up a fun, funky design for our t shirts and other souvenirs. Let me know if you can help, or know someone who can.

A  few people have asked about conformation shows within driving distance of the Jamboree.

The closest one seems to be the Orangeville shows, taking place May 22, 23, 24th.

Link here:

The shows are about an hour and ten minutes away from the resort. Judging panel is not yet announced.

Map link —

Link to the Jamboree site

Kirby's Fish

I think you have to have lived with a French  Bulldog to understand how truly, wonderfully weird they are (which I mean, of course, in the most affectionate of ways).

Cool Kirby, handsome French BulldogTake Beth Thornton’s Kirby, for example.

Most dogs, if they’re going to pick something to be crazy about, it’s going to be a ball. Maybe a sheep, if you’re talking about a Border Collie. Not Kirby, though.

Kirby was crazy about fish – and no, not fish as in “hey, let’s have salmon for dinner’, but in a more Jacques Cousteau, intellectual curoisity kind of way. Kirby, in fact, had his very own fishpond, which he’d visit to sit and watch the fish. In the winter time (when even the most intrepid marine biologist has seconds thoughts about outdoor marine observation), Kirby would make do with looking at the indoor aquarium.

What else did Kirby love?

He loved cheese puffs, and having his dad blow water at him out of the pool noodle (see, I told you Frenchies were weird). He loved naps, and warm spots,  and birthday cake.

On December 16th, Beth lost Kirby to a tragic and unforeseeable allergic reaction. Beth blames herself, but if Kirby could talk to her, he’d tell her that “hey, you were trying to help me – you were doing the mom thing, and looking out for me, just like you always did. No one could have known this would happen, so please feel better soon. BTW, the cheesy poofs in heaven? So. Totally. Rock. Also, fish ponds as far as the eye can see.”

Kirby's Jade GoldfishKirby’s ashes will rest in an urn, along with cards, mementos, and a small, perfect Jade goldfish that Beth chose for him.

Kirby was a deeply, wonderfully weird Frenchie, with many admirers and friends from around the world, all of whom miss him.

He was a little dog who loved many things, but most of all, what he loved was Beth. The feeling was mutual.

RB’s Curbing a Heartache
Tue Dec 16, 2008
Loved by Beth Thornton and Family, Champagne French Bulldogs