Rescue Me #1

So as I have blogged before, I am a rescue hound. Some foolish person decided once that they didn't want me anymore and gave me up for adoption. I went to live with some nicer people, but let's be honest - rescue facilities are way too crowded for hound lifestyle. I was so happy when mama and daddy rescued me, and have been living the good life ever since.

But this time of year I start to think about all those other hounds who are in rescue facilities or who are even luckier and get to live in foster homes. A foster home is better but it isn't the same as a forever home. These poor hounds have no family to love on them or feed them, and no one to play chase with. It was really bothering me all day, despite hours of napping to clear my hound mind.

So I am left with only one option. Dictation! I dictated to daddy that we should start a new tradition. Rosco has his Famous Basset Hound Friday, and the stupid cats get TWO traditions. It doesn't seem fair that us hounds only get one - it isn't called WHISKERS of Fury, no matter what McBoobs says.

He agreed with me, saying it was very selfless of me to want to help other hounds. He also said something about toning down the negativity on the cats, but I tune out any comments that have to do with those stupid hairballs. Anyway, this is our first entry in a new segment here at Jowls of Fury that we are calling 'Rescue Me'. In it, I will highlight a different basset hound rescue organization each week, giving some details about them and maybe mentioning a few hounds at their foster homes. I will also let you know if they do any rescue events like a waddle.

So our first rescue organization is the Michigan Basset Rescue. Their claim to fame is that they host the 'Original Basset Waddle'. Hey what a coincidence! We go to a waddle of our own. Looking at their site I see the Michigan waddle is in the spring while our waddle is in the fall.

We could do two waddles in one year! Dictation!

But as you can see from their website, they do lots of other things. They sell basset hound gifts, including a really cool cookbook written by basset chef de Hungry Hound. A few of their current hounds are awfully handsome, including Mr. Duke (an older basset gentleman who will eat anything - a hound after my own heart). So if you happen to live in Michigan or want to drive a long way to give a hound a forever home, check out Michigan Basset Rescue.

Oh yeah and here is their mascot!

A plea to the dogs

Look guys I know the cats took over Jowls of Fury and tried to make it into one big catnip fest. I know they made fun of you, and I know that McBoobs lorded himself over all of us. I know he also drooled in your water dishes and got his fur all over your favorite stuff. It couldn't have been a pleasant time for you.

But we are all part of this house, could you please quit chasing us all over the place? Especially me? I didn't want to imprison you, I just wanted to have a room to myself so I could enjoy some good 'nip and sunshine. It isn't easy to do that when you have 150 pounds of floppy drooly basset hounds stampeding around you. I just thought he was going to lock the gate behind you like mom and dad usually do, I didn't know he was going to make himself cat warden or anything.

Maybe if you laid in the sunshine with us sometime you would understand. I know you like to do that, I see you on the porch all the time working on your tan. I could also show you how to roll in catnip... that always relaxes me, and the way you guys howl and carry on it sounds like you need to relax.

Seriously, you're chasing Nibbler so much he is losing some of his ample cat frame. If you keep chasing him he is going to start whining a lot more about it and I don't think I need that kind of downer.

Can't we all just get along?

Not cool man.

Triumphant Return Thursday

Good news loyal blog followers! We're back!

Yes, we were down for awhile there. The cats removed our ability to blog by unplugging our internet. We had all kinds of blogs typed up about stupid fat cats, famous basset hounds, and fun walks. Then they pulled the plug on us. We were so lost! Rosco tried to get back upstairs and plug things back in, but his paws were too big and he was smacked in the snout by McBoobs. Dad won't let us chase the cats for too long so we were all herded back downstairs without internet.

Clearly the cats planned their takeover well. Most of our days we spend in our crates while dad works, and the cats have free reign of things. He didn't realize how the cats had tricked us, since he's been so busy lately. Our thoughts were pretty low during that time - Breezy cried a lot and Rosco just wasn't his usual self. I was feeling pretty sad myself. Then I hatched a plan.

I knew our basset friends would be worried about us, and I got the feeling that they were rooting for us. Plus I knew that McBoobs is really terrified of me, and that he was the glue that held those silly cats together. So our task was pretty simple: catch him alone and bark at him until he ran away and hid under the bed.

We finally got our chance today. When dad came home, he let us out to go potty. We did what we had to do, and when we came back in, I waited to eat my dinner until I had figured out where Nibbler was. I had only a moment's chance and I took it - I ran after him and watched his McBoobs flop from side to side, scaring him under the bed. I barked at him really good and he whimpered and whined for a bit, then stayed under the farthest part of the bed. I went in by the internet and plugged it back in, then growled at him to remind him who was boss.

My dinner kibble has never tasted so good.

Anyway, we chased all the cats for awhile to reinforce the fact that the dogs are running the show again. A few of them are under beds or up on shelves, but we left Korbin alone because he got Rosco some votes for his photo contest.

Whiskers of Fury is no more, and Jowls of Fury is back!

That's more like it!

Whiskers of Fury is not the utopia we all hoped for

When I joined this resistance movement I thought we would all be a nonviolent protest organization that would overwhelm our dog counterparts with citizen unrest and group singing sessions. I did not plan on being the target of nightly showcases of cat bigotry and warmongering, and I wouldn't have signed on if I'd known this right-wing outcome would come to be. I was lured into this deal with promises of the finest catnip and cushy pillows to sleep on, and assurances that the dogs would only be mocked from afar once or twice a week. Nibbler does it every night and he tries to swat them while they are sleeping.

Nibbler is a liar, a coward, and a cheat. He always runs from Oliver during Cathalla (which is stupid in and of itself, and also violent). Also, he is pompous and doesn't carry his fair share. Even with his massive, pendulous man-cat-boobs (I like to call them McBoobs). Then he saunters up to mama when she comes home and plays the loveable little kitten role, like there ever was a 20-pound kitten in the world that wasn't a tiger.

I honestly feel sort of sorry for the dogs. Sure, they chase us sometimes, but to be fair we chase each other and mice and all sorts of smaller stuff. Moths in particular are a lot of fun to chase. Does that make the chaser evil? No, it makes the chaser a cat, and a particularly good one if they actually catch what they are chasing (clue: Nibbler doesn't even try to chase anymore. McBoobs make pursuit a little difficult).  Rosco is trying to win a contest (click the link here), so maybe if we all helped him out it might lift his spirits a little (you have to go on Facebook, and then like the site it takes you to, and finally like Rosco's picture to vote for him).

Whiskers of Fury is a sham.

We are not comrades.