September 30, 2010



Man there are squirrels EVERYWHERE lately! I first learned of squirrels at grandma's house in Michigan! My puppy-cousin Maggie taught me about them. According to Maggie, squirrels are like rats (?) that live in trees. I thought this was patently unfair, because we dogs do not climb trees like rats (?) or birds. Man, birds really tick me off. I think they wait until you get close enough to where you think you might catch them before flying away and laugh at you. Anyway, squirrels. They sometimes come down from the trees, which is fair, because we dogs do not climb trees. If you are fast enough like Maggie (she is like lightning), you can catch them and possibly eat part of them before your human catches you in the act. Well, she didn't say the eating part, but that's what I would do. My other puppy cousin Max is not as fast as Maggie but is faster than me, but he hasn't caught any yet either. So there is hope for a non-bullet demon hound like me.

I am not fast enough, not by a long shot, to catch a squirrel. Which is too bad, because I really want to try and eat one of them, or at least smell them up close. I can smell them where they were in the yard, and I can smell where they have been digging and doing their squirrel stuff, but it's just not the same. I even found a dead one at the park the other day, but dad wouldn't let me roll on it. He never lets me do anything fun.

But back to the squirrels. They're EVERYWHERE lately! There are squirrels in my yard all the time! Even in the front, where I hardly ever get to go. Probably why there are so many of them. There didn't used to be this many. I think it's because I don't get to smell them up close. Dad seems to think it's because it is getting to be late in the year, which is when they are burying nuts and seeds and stuff to eat over the winter, and it only seems like there are more of them. But what does he know, with his soon-to-be-gotted doctorate of philosophy in zoology? I'm the one with the nose here, and it's telling me that the squirrel population in my town is exploding thanks to helicopter dog parents that don't let their hounds catch them, or at least roll on the dead ones. Bunnies, for instance, have dropped dramatically since Layla and I almost caught that one last time.

Well, that's all for now. I'd decree that they let me get those squirrels, but it won't change anything. Think I'll take a nap; there is not doubt I can catch one of those.

September 25, 2010

Disgusted and sickened

My life was once perfect. I had the house to myself - the bed, couch, arm chair, floor, toilet lid, spare bed, desk, and anything else I could reach were mine. All I had to do was knock one of the other cats off the spot I wanted. I got moist cat food (Ocean White Fish and Tuna, you had better believe they figured that out when I turned my regal head away from any other garbage they tried to serve me) all the time, I got cat nip regularly, and I got to play with my toys wherever and whenever I wanted. I didn't have to run the gauntlet between a stupid baby gate and the basement - there were no "dog-free" zones because there were no "dogs".

I was a happy cat.

Then came dog 1. I call him dog 1 because I do not feel he is worth dignifying by the name Mama gave him, the one that she says with love and affection like she says my name. In fact, I'm not entirely comfortable calling dog 1 a "him". Gender implies some level of being, and being implies some inalienable right to existence without persecution. If I weren't so much smaller and stumpy-footed than dogs 1 and 2 I would persecute with extreme violence.

dog 1 (see? He doesn't even deserve uppercasing) got ALL the attention for awhile. Away went the moist food - dog 1 will eat ANYTHING (seriously. He eats kleenex if they aren't watching him. He even tries to eat my cat poop out of the litter box. How stupid can you be?). He eats my toy mousies. He even pooped a dead toy mousie once. Mama got mad but that doesn't stop him.

So dog 1 moves in and up go the baby gates, away goes the moist food, and my Mama time decreases dramatically. It was a hard transition, but I eventually got used to it. dog 1 and I came to a tense cease-fire. I felt I could come out in the not-dog-free zone without fearing for my life. He was too little to get me on the couch for awhile, but things changed again. Regardless, I put what was beneath me beneath me.

Then came dog 2. dog 2 is worse than dog 1. dog 2 chases me - CHASES me. She isn't afraid of my hisses and swats. She wants to kill me. The only reason she can't is because she is bigger and slower than dog 1. I hate her. I haven't had moist cat food in a long time. My mousies might as well not exist. My only Mama time is at bedtime now, but now that there are 2 dogs they have to sleep on the floor on Mama's side of the bed, and they pop up like sharks every so often and try to eat me. They are big enough to jump on the bed and couch now so nowhere is safe. I live in the basement, where my glamorous body gets basement dirt all over it and so *sob* bathtime comes more often now.

Then I find this online.


Excuse me I have a hairball or two I need to deposit.

September 22, 2010

Everybody shut up and listen! I'm FAMOUS!!!

Drop whatever stupid thing you're doing and pay attention! I'm FAMOUS! My costume at last weekend's 13th Annual Illinois Waddle (hosted by the fine people of Guardian Angel Basset Rescue) got me front-page billing in The Journal-Standard. This reputable newspaper is printed in Freeport, IL, and the image can be found here. I have copied and pasted the important parts below because honestly who cares about any other hound but me?

See? I knew my moment of fame would come around, especially after living in a shelter home. All that's left now is for my agent to get me on the Tonight Show. Everyone will know my name after this... wait... where's my name on the picture? They got my costume right but my name's not on there!!! What the heck was Joe Tomborello thinking? I gotta go, I need to talk to my agent about this!

September 21, 2010

First post

Welcome to Jowls of Fury!  This is the first post in what will be a long, periodocally updated online journal about my life with my dogs, cats, and wife.  Right now the plan is to post once a week, or approximately whenever the heck I can squeeze it into my busy schedule.

The first thing to do is introduce the recurring members of this blog.  They are, in no particular order:

What a party animal!
This is me, the usual author of this blog.  I'm a 30-something guy with lots of animals.  I'm finishing up school right now (studying zoology), I really like the outdoors and photography, and I probably should've been a humor columnist.  I am the guy in charge of all the domestic stuff around the house, including feeding hounds and cats and scooping poop from litter boxes or backyards.


Mama with her new friend

This is Mama, the matriarch of the pack.  The hounds and
cats constantly vie for her lap, usually peeling out on Daddy's lap in the process.  At the moment she earns all the bacon, something Daddy hopes to change in the near future.  Mama is very crafty and knows about all sorts of things that Daddy would otherwise screw up royally if left to his own devices.  She is also the resident butterfly ninja.

I'm out of food.
Oliver is the resident wild cat.  He came from a farm where Daddy was doing field work in 2004 and is the first rescue Mama and Daddy took in together.  His cat senses were tingling the moment Daddy set foot in front of his farmhouse, sensing a sucker in the vicinity.  Within a few weeks he had a cushy new home and two other cat siblings to play with.  Oliver is a lot of fun but has recently taken to yowling very loudly every few minutes, which has caused more than a few pillows to be thrown in his direction.  He also doesn't travel in cars very well... more on that later.
This new cat bed is great!
Beaker is our part-siamese cat.  Being the only female cat in the house, her personality is no doubt influenced by an overabundance of testosterone.  She often gets on people's nerves but is basically a sweet cat, if not a bit vocal.  Beaker and her brother Bunsen were two rescue cats that Mama had before she met, and foolishly married, Daddy.

Hey can I go outside?
Korbin, aka Korbinator, is our most recent rescue cat.  He is part/all Maine Coon, and he had a brother named Buddy who was also a long-haired cat, but had a tabby coloration.  Unfortunately we already had a ton of cats and one more would've been too much.  Korbin is a really sweet cat and he loves attention.  He's the only one left with front claws, but he hardly ever uses them (except during bath time!).

Shhh....  beauty rest.
Layla, aka Pretty Girl, is our first rescue dog.  She is all basset and all diva.  Supposedly she lived outside for most of her life before we adopted her, but if that is the case there is an innate genetic component in bassets that allows for maximization of couch sleeping potential, because she was in the house for about five minutes before she took her place on the long throne next to Mama.  She and Rosco love each other to bits, and the volume has only gone up since she got here.

This is a weird cat bed...
Bunsen, aka Mr. B, is the resident love master.  Almost every cat has been the target of his, um, affection, usually with the same end results.  Car rides seem to bring this out in him a bit more, possibly because his victims have been drugged.  Despite these predatory habits, Mr. B is a good cat who loves to meet and greet new people into the house.  He also has taken to pawing at the covers when Daddy is under them to be let in so he can sleep next to somebody warm.

I am not pleased with you.
Nibbler, aka Nibs or Mr. Nibs, is another rescue cat.  Hailing from Louisiana, he has a misshappen back left foot that he absolutely hates you to touch.  Nibs is otherwise very loving and affectionate, especially towards Mama.  Lately he has taken to cheating on her with anyone who happens to stay over in our spare bedroom, probably because the dogs sleep in his room.  Nibs hates the dogs with a passion, especially Layla.  He is also the only cat in our house who will fetch, with shakey mousies or rattley balls being his favorite toys.  Unfortunately, the presence of the dogs has greatly decreased his presence.
I love you man.
Rosco, aka Puppyman, is my first dog.  Although not a rescue, he is the best pup anyone could ask for.  Outgoing and personable, he is still very much a puppy and loves to run and play.  Rosco knows many tricks and loves to be cuddled and loved on.  He and Layla are the resident bunny and squirrel chasers.

So, those are the usual suspects.  There are some others who will make appearances later on in the blog (like puppy cousins and cat cousins), as well as some memorial blog posts for pets who have moved on (like Spanky, Whittie, and probably some others I've forgotten).  But since it's already been an hour I think I'm going to end it here.  Stay tuned for more!