Paul J Ackerman Approves of my Blog

Like anyone who runs a blog, I get some fairly interesting spam from time to time. Most of it is from people trying to sell knock off watches or discount drugs, while the rest seems to come from porn sites.

What you don’t usually expect is Republican Political spam, especially if you’re a left of center Canadian New Democrat who blogs about dog breeding.

Paul J Ackerman, of Seminole County Florida, apparently thinks I’m just his demographic:

Paul J Ackerman approves spamming your blog

Paul J Ackerman approves spamming your blog

According to his website, Mr. Ackerman is a conservative Baptist Republican who teaches engineering, robotics and game programming. Maybe he got the kids in his programming class to whip together a handy little spam bot for extra credit.

While I’m sure Mr. Ackerman would be a swell choice for a position of power that will allow him to mould the hearts and minds of future generations of Seminole County School kids, I have to wonder about any candidate who decides to make blog spam the lynch pin of his electoral marketing campaign.

But, hey, that’s just me. I’m also in favor of socialized medicine, gay marriage, no BSL laws and the legalization of marijuana, so what the hell do I know.

Mind you, if Paul J. Ackerman APPROVES that message, and has approved it being placed on MY blog, I can only assume that this also means he approves of ME, and of all the things I stand for (see partial list above).

You go, Paul J! Florida would be a great state for legal gay marriages – reception at Disneyland, anyone?

Harley Hangs Out

Harley waits for me to throw his ball

Harley waits for me to throw his ball

Harley, the current Foster French Bulldog in residence, has been having a great time hanging out with the other dogs and learning that he’s actually a four legged kid, and not a two legged one.

Harley and his rope toy

Harley and his rope toy

He is the most ball chasing obsessed Frenchie I’ve ever met, constantly flinging his stinky old tennis ball on a rope toy at your feet, all while barking at us with optimistic enthusiasm. Fifteen minutes later, and he’s still not tired of getting you to throw his ball. Delilah just looks at him, rolls her eyes, and sighs “men” under her breath. “Why would anyone want to chase a rope toy when they could nap?”, she wonders.

Harley came to us eating a ridiculously over priced ‘vegetarian’ prescription kibble that was meant to deal with his supposed food allergies. Those allergies actually turned out to be a rather sensitive stomach combined with an attack of pancreatitis, so I was confident that it would pretty easy to get him off of his potato protein and soy middlings diet (yum, and so worth $120 a bag), and on to raw food.

The first night I added some raw to his kibble, he regarded it with skepticism, and spent the next five minutes trying to eat around the raw. The next night, he gobbled down the raw first. Tonight, he ate his raw, left the kibble underneath untouched, and shoved his bowl across the room until it smacked into my foot. He then sat at my feet, cocked his head, and barked something that soundly remarkably like “make with the meat, lady”. I explained to him that he still had to eat his kibble for a few more days, and he reluctantly swallowed a few more mouthfuls, all while staring at me with mournful resignation.

He also came to me as a dog who had to have his bum wiped after he’d pooped – and he now has firm, solid poops, for possibly the first time in his life. Score another win for raw feeding.

Harley and Pickle like to hang out together, probably because they both have insanely off the chart, terrier style play drives. They also share a favorite game – ‘catch the water’. You kind of have to see this to understand it, so there’s a video after the cut.

NOTE: video replaced with Blip.Tv version, due to egregious YouTube suckage levels.

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Friday Zen: One Day

“One Day” is possibly the most beautiful song I’ve heard in recent years.

It might possibly be more beautiful because of its dichotomy – it’s a reggae song about reconciliation between Jews and Muslims, performed by an Orthodox Hassidic Rabbi named Matisyahu (who was born Matthew Paul Miller).

Matisyahu’s full story is much more weird and wonderful than I can convey in a sentence, so read more about him on his own website.

Missing French Bulldog, Texas

Magic - missing or stolen French Bulldog in Texas

Magic - missing or stolen French Bulldog in Texas

Long time breeder and French Bulldog owner Ann Stroud passed away on July 2cnd. At the time of Ann’s death, she and two other people co owned a little brindle French Bulldog named “Magic” (aka Ch. Fabelhaft I’m Sumbunny at Robobull).

Some time during Ann’s illness, she felt no longer capable of caring for her dogs, and so placed Magic with a friend or acquaintance. Unfortunately, Ann never shared the name of this person with her family or with her two co owners, and now no one knows where Magic is (or if they do, they’re not telling).

Magic’s co owners are desperate to find her, mostly just so that they will know that she is safe and is being well cared for.  When you’re dealing with a missing intact bitch, there’s always worry about dogs ending up in the wrong hands, for the wrong reasons. Visions of puppy mills dance through your head, when you don’t know where your dog is.

Magic is believed to be someplace in the Texas panhandle.

She is a dark brindle bitch, about 22 pounds, with white markings on her chest. She is microchipped, and her chip is registered with CAR.

If you live in the Texas Panhandle area, please keep an eye open for people who suddenly have a new adult French Bulldog – especially if they don’t want to tell you where it came from. Employees at vet clinics and pet supply stores can be especially helpful in cases like this.

If you think you know where Magic is, please contact her co owner, Twinkey Moore, at 806-622-1379 or 902-622-3333, or email her at You can also see Magic’s page on her website, at

Please cross post and share, and help bring Magic home!

Magic, missing or stolen French Bulldog, Texas

Magic, missing or stolen French Bulldog, Texas

Lazy French Bulldog Puppies

Hammy, aka the Creamsicle Puppy

Hammy, aka the Creamsicle Puppy

I went to visit the Butters’ babies, and discovered that somehow, over the last week and changed, they’ve morphed into from French Bulldog puppies into fat baby sloths.

The bigger boy, in particular, has decided that since he has milk on tap, and dedicated humans to pick him up every time he even squeaks, that there’s just no point in walking or doing anything else that burns energy. If he’s lying on his back and you pick him up, he’s quite content to just hang there in your hand, lying on his back with his fat tummy exposed to the world, contemplating the mysteries of life.

Creamsicle, aka Hammy, is happy to have you do whatever you want with him – put him on his back, hold him up in the air and make him do the Hammy Hamster dance, tickle his little toes until his belly wiggles like a bowl of jello.

Lyra, as Paula has named the girl, is a little bit more ambitious – she has one goal in life, and that goal is to get you to feed her. Everything she encounters is tested and tasted, in case it contains food. She also has that adorable Frenchie need to be picked up and carried everyplace – and of course, with a face like hers, it’s hard to say no. So, Lyra spends her every waking moment shrieking until some one comes to get her, or until her mom feeds her (mostly just to get her to shut up).

Butters has had just about enough of motherhood, thank you, and spends most of her time hiding in the corner and pretending that those fat little dumpling kids are no concern of hers. In this she joins the time honored tradition of her mother and half sisters, all of whom think that motherhood is basically just an excuse to hire nannies.

There’s a video of the sloth babies after the cut – the upside down puppy is the bigger boy, and later you’ll see Paula making Hammy do the Hamster dance. It’s amazing what you can get Frenchie puppies to do it you’re bored.

Photos are below the cut, after the video, or over on Flickr.

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