He's Back!

mcnabb, eagles, buccaneers, nfl, football
While the rest of spent the last two weeks slowly coming around to the virtues of Kolb, McNabb was apparently bent on reminding us why we loved him in the first place.



(Insanely busy with a huge bankruptcy case. Regularly scheduled atheism blogging will resume eventually.)

Update: Apparently, the FBI does not understand the meaning of "give us the insurance documents we need to run the hospital, or the only hospital in a 50m radius that can deliver babies will shut down." Sigh.

Michael Vick, My Dog and Second Chances

puppy, happy, abuse, animal, michael vick, eagles, crime,

As you have no doubt heard, unless you've spent the last few days waiting for Lassie in a well, Michael Vick has been signed by the Eagles. And, unless you've spent the last few years in that well, you also know that Michael Vick tortured and killed innocent dogs for entertainment. Some people call it "sport", I call it torturing and killing innocent animals that just want to be your friend.

All of the pictures in this post are of my best friend, Muggsy. (I didn't name him.) When I brought Muggsy home, he was between 1.5 and 2 years old. His tail never wagged and he didn't grin like that. He did pee himself anytime someone raised their hand, or their voice. Muggsy bit me the first time I tried to put a leash on him. He cried when I tried to pet him. Because someone like Michael Vick thought it would be fun to put out cigarettes on Muggsy's skin. Because someone like Michael Vick thought it was perfectly fine to choke, kick, beat and pour boiling water on a dog. On my sweet, cuddly friend.

It took a long time to get Muggsy to trust me, to understand that I was never going to hurt him, ever. He lacked any kind of "manners": didn't know "sit" or "stay", had never walked on a leash, was barely house trained. I trained without punishment by highly praising behavior I wanted, and punishing bad behavior with lack of attention. It took a while, and some modification of my own behavior*, but it worked.

Now I have a best friend who follows me around like a big, furry shadow. Muggsy can't bear for me to be out of sight, even for as long as it takes me to pee. He'll lay on the floor, nose pressed to the gap between the bathroom door and the floor, and sigh while he waits. When I return, whether from the bathroom or from work, there is celebration. He jumps and dances, tail wagging so hard his whole body wiggles, mouth wide open in a big smile. Muggsy sleeps as near me as he can get (I don't let him on the bed or other furniture), and wakes up to check if I'm still there. Sometimes he'll wake me up in the middle of the night to see if I want to play. Muggsy knows when I'm upset or in pain and his cure is always the same: pet my soft fur, you'll feel better. I always do.

So you can imagine how I felt when my favorite team signed Michael Vick. How dare they! How could anyone give that monster a million dollars? What message does this send about the severity of Vick's crimes, and the children! What message does this send to them?

Then I heard about second chances and regret. Muggsy got a second chance with me- the shelter wanted to put him down. They didn't have the resources to deal with a dog as traumatized as he was. So why shouldn't Michael Vick get a second chance? Maybe Vick was as traumatized at some point in his past as Muggsy. I don't know. Muggsy bit me out of fear and pain, maybe Vick's motivation was much the same.

The honest truth is, I don't know. On the one hand, I want to believe that Vick is truly remorseful, that he really can change. I want to believe that people can learn a lesson and better themselves instead of just sinking further into the muck. On the other hand, I haven't seen too many people who really have changed. Am I influenced by wanting to believe the best about the Eagles? Sure. Am I influenced by my desire to poor boiling water on the person who hurt Muggsy, and really, Vick'll do in a pinch? Absolutely. My motivations are too muddled, my anger too deep to evaluate this situation rationally.

We'll have to see, I suppose.

*I can't leave food out, I have to empty the garbage immediately after placing meat or bones in it, and Muggsy will not bark or otherwise alert me if he needs to go out. He'll just stare at the basement door. If I'm in another room, I can't see that. So, if I haven't seen him in a while, I have to go find him. Sometimes, he's just sleeping. Oh, and he recently figured out how to make the icemaker in the fridge give him delightfully cold and crunchy icecubes, so I have walk across the kitchen floor carefully.

Blitz, Blitz and Blitz Again

Jim Johnson, master of the blitz, passed away today. He will be missed.