Butch has managed to injure his other eye. According to the eye doc, this is problematic because of a genetic predisposition common in Boston Terriers. Basically, what would just be a minor annoyance for another dog, like a fleck of grit in the eye, turns into a nasty ulcer for poor Butch. He will spend the next week in the radar dish. I will spend the next week taking meticulous care of his eye with three different meds applied multiple times per day in the (probably futile) hope that it will heal on its own and he will not need the same expensive surgery he had to have in the other eye.

Oh yeah and while I’m at it, finishing my book.

Just to catch up my LJ peeps who don’t follow me on Twitter (@faustfatale) my Boston Terrier Butch had a lump removed on Tuesday. The biopsy revealed that it is a grade 2 mast cell tumor. Grade 2 means “moderately malignant.”

Mast cell tumors are a fairly common form of skin cancer and Boston Terriers are one of the breeds most likely to get them. It’s apparently very treatable and not often fatal so long as I’m super vigilant about getting any tumors removed as soon as I notice them. The vet says that he got “clean but close margins” on the one that he removed on Tuesday but I need to watch the site very carefully for any sign of regrowth.

In addition, I also plan to look into various herbal, holistic and alternative options that will help support his immune system and reduce or eliminate the skin allergies that are related to mast cell production.

On a lighter note, I saw on one of the info sites about mast cell tumors that one of the signs that a dog is experiencing post-op pain is “tragic facial expression.” This made me laugh, because that pretty much describes Butch all the time.

Exhibit A: my user pic.

Then take a look at this photo of Butch at Lamill about a year ago.



There’s absolutely nothing wrong with him here, other than not being given any table scraps. He’s just being his usual mopey emo self, selling his unbearable suffering like it was the Brooklyn Bridge.

I’m the one with the real tragic facial expression when I look in my wallet after the surgery. Ouch!

Meanwhile, I don’t have time for moping around. It looks like I may be getting a little wiggle room on my deadline, but that doesn’t mean I can slack off for a second. So, back to work for my tragic ass. I need to earn more dough to make sure the vet doesn’t send a couple of Dobermans to bite off my thumbs.

I was getting ready to head out to the Anthony Mann double last night, when my neighbor nearly hit two dogs wandering free in the alley behind my house. She had corralled them into our shared yard but was anxious, unsure of what to do and late for an appointment. Dog person that I am, I told her I’d handle it. The dogs are both cute and super friendly. One’s a puppy, a Shepherd mix, and the other a small adult terrier mix who is either pregnant or has recently given birth. Collars but no tags. Sheesh…

I walked up and down the block with them. No one recognized them. I printed and posted signs all over the neighborhood, then stashed the two dogs in my yard. I put out food, water and a warm bed, and flew off to the theater. I barely got my butt into a seat when the lights went down, but I made it.

The movies were both great fun. Two O’Clock Courage was zanier, lighter fare about a spunky chick cab driver and a guy with amnesia, while Desperate was full bore noir, all swinging lampshades and arty shadows and heavies in fedoras, including Raymond “The Eyebrows” Burr. I loved the scene where Burr has the captured hero counting down the seconds to midnight, waiting to shoot him at the exact same moment that Burr’s kid brother is set to be executed.

Another weird Creature connection: Desperate was penned by Harry Essex, who wrote the script for Creature from the Black Lagoon. Coincidence…?

Anyway, after the second feature ended, I hightailed out of there as fast as I could and rushed home to find the two dogs wandering around in the alley again. They had escaped from the yard, but hung around waiting for me to come home. No one had called to claim them.

I stashed them in my bathroom for the night. This morning, I took the two of them to the local shelter to register them as lost and found. Their people have 4 days to find them, after which they will be available for adoption. If they are not adopted, I have an IP hold, which means the shelter will call me as a last resort before euthanizing them. At that point, I’ll have to start calling rescue groups to try and find a place for one or both of them. ‘Cause, you know, I’m just sitting around here bored with nothing else to do…

Check out luchaninjakeith's video of Kogi Taco Madness in Silver Lake, featuring my dog Butch, dogsitter Lili Chin and her dog Boogie, with a cameo by nathan_long.



I'm so jealous!

Bandit the Biker Dog rode his Harley off into the sunset today. Thanks to everyone who sent donations to help him and his best friend Mark through this painful and heartbreaking time.

Even though he's gone, you can still keep Bandit's mission alive by donating in his name directly to some of his favorite charities like PAWS or the Helen Woodward Animal Center.



Bandit was the same age as Butch.

edited to add: Sadly, Bandit has ridden his Harley off into the sunset. Thanks to everyone who donated to help him and his best friend Mark. And even though he's gone, you can still keep Bandit's mission alive by donating in his name directly to some of his favorite charities like PAWS or the Helen Woodward Animal Center.

Many of us in Southern California know about Bandit the Biker Dog.



Bandit is a Boston terrier who rides his customized Harley, making frequent appearances throughout the years at charitable events helping to raise money for all sorts of causes. You may have seen his photograph in newspapers and magazines – he is always sporting his riding leathers and goggles. Bandit is a registered therapy dog and visits patients in the San Diego Hospice and Orange County Children’s Hospital. In September he took second place in the 3rd Annual Surf Dog Surf-a-Thon in San Diego that raised nearly $50,000 for the Helen Woodward Animal Center and his most recent appearance was in the 62nd Mother Goose Parade in San Diego.



Well, 2008 has not been a good year for Bandit and he really needs our help right now. In May of this year a fast moving infection necessitated the removal of one of Bandit’s eyes. Bandit came back from that set back and continued making his charitable appearances. Since then Bandit began to suffer from seizures. Bandit’s dad, Mark Shaffer, took him to the neurologist on Tuesday (12/9/08) and they have recommended an MRI and spinal tap to try to determine the cause of Bandit’s seizures and make recommendations regarding treatment. The cost for these tests and potential treatment are extremely high and Mark does not have the money at this time. Mark is doing something that does not come easy for him (usually it is Mark and Bandit out there raising money for others) and is asking for help to raise the money needed to help him help Bandit. PayPal contributions can be made to Mark directly at execfit@adnc. com Mark is not a 501c3 registered charity – he is just Bandit’s dad trying to do what he can to raise the money he needs to help Bandit. The news from Mark this morning was that Bandit is not doing well and they are hoping for good news when the tests are done today.

You can read more about Bandit and Mark’s plea for help at Bandit’s website and see videos of Bandit then and now.

Bandit has been a great ambassador for Boston Terriers and has spread so much joy and love to all he meets – every little bit will help Mark get Bandit the care he needs. If you can spare $1, $5, $20, anything towards Bandit’s medical care will be greatly appreciated.

Radar Dog is Radar Dog no more! Butch finally got his cone off today. I'd post a photo but he refuses to stay still. He's way too busy running around like a maniac and trying to play with every toy in the house simultaneously.

Butch went back to the ophthalmologist and got sentenced to one more week in the cone.



Radar Dog is not thrilled.

New stove!!!



When I fire up this bad boy, I hear Ride of the Valkyries by Wagner. Five burners, two normal, one “power boil” (!) one smaller simmer burner and a big double length oval burner in the center with a removable griddle, plus a massive crematorium-sized oven and a warming drawer. This thing is bigger than my bathroom. I want to have sex on it. Best Thanksgiving gift EVER!

(Note: Even the prospect of turkey scraps cannot cheer up Radar Dog.)

My Boston Butch went to the ophthalmologist today. Stitches out, more eyeball debridement and ten more days in the satellite dish.



Meanwhile, to prove the world isn’t all bad, here a link to an astoundingly hot dyke MMA porno called Champion. Not even remotely work safe, but click anyway. You know you want to…

In my ongoing effort to break through the chick-lit vs. dick-lit divide and reach out to more traditional female readers, I just did an unlikely and extremely cute (you’ve been warned!) interview about coffee and my Boston Terriers for romance author Susanne Saville’s Chatty Cat Café.

In other Boston Terrier news, my dog Butch had surgery on his eye today. He ran into the cement steps while playing ball in the yard on Saturday night and scraped the surface of his eye. First he had to go into the emergency room that night, and today he had to have this “multiple superficial punctate keratotomy.” It’s a minor, outpatient procedure, but he’s really REALLY unhappy about wearing the radar dish.

I noticed something interesting while doing the Omnivore’s Hundred in my last post. When it comes to fermented food, I seem to have a weirdly Asian bias. I’m only willing to eat the mildest forms of cheese, but unlike most of my fellow Americans, I’ll happily chow down on miso, prahok and kimchi all day long. Natto, on the other hand, I wouldn’t eat at gunpoint. Go figure.

Sadly, I’m going to have to give the classic double bill of The Fly and Return of the Fly (scroll down) at the Egyptian tonight a miss because I’ll be pissing off on Saturday to see the The Fly, the opera. Deadlines loom and I’m way behind.

In other news, my cat has herpes. (This revelation has me in an amazingly foul mood, but I can’t stop laughing at the previous sentence. It’s either laugh or go on a kill crazy rampage.) Who even knew cats could get herpes? My Persian Reggie was rescued from a horrific, filthy hoarding situation, and clearly his unsavory past has caught up with him. Apparently cats get herpes infections primarily in their eyes, sort of like a cold sore on the cornea. Poor Reggie’s been walking around half-squinting like the proverbial one eyed cat peeping in a seafood store. He had to have the surface of his eye “debrided,” meaning scrubbed with a tiny brillo pad, to remove all the ragged edges around the ulcerated area. 500 dollars later…

I’m going in for the next round of my ongoing dental torture next week, but at least I don’t have to have my eye debrided.

Yesterday was my last day to hang with my mom, whom ladyeuthanasia has dubbed “Lady V.” In our quest to get out of the heat, we decided to get manicures and pedicures. The nail salon always has tons of magazines to read while you get your toenails painted and naturally all of them are women’s magazines. Nothing but articles about various stars I’ve never heard breaking up with each other, the familiar “how to give a blow job so your man won’t dump you” Cosmo-type thing and one or two ultra-couture fashionista rags. As I was perusing the spread searching for the least of various evils, I noticed a magazine slightly under the rest. All I could see of the cover was a large black bald head. Definitely not a broken hearted starlet or a well dressed stick-insect. Curious, I snagged that mag and amazingly enough, it turned out to be street-fighter turned MMA star Kimbo Slice. What a copy of ESPN magazine with a cover article about Kimbo was doing in a nail salon I’ll never know, but it set a surreal precedent for later events.

That evening, Lady V and I went off to Providence for dinner. I thought about taking photos and writing everything down and even brought my camera but when I got there I decided I would just enjoy everything and be a lazy birthday girl. We had the five course market menu and were blown away. Each new thing was more incredible than the last. Mojito ravioli. Tiny chive blossoms. Ginko berries. Corn tortilla ice cream. All these complex and unique flavor combinations but nothing seemed weird, silly or experimental just for the sake of being out-there. Each dish seemed perfectly balanced, as if it were the only possible way that it could be.

After that I had to take Lady V back to her hotel so she could get packed and ready to be whisked back to NYC first thing this morning. My mom loves my dogs and so we thought we’d swing by my place and grab the pups so they could ride with us over to her hotel.

We pull into my parking slot next to my house and notice my neighbor pulling out of his. She waits in the car while I let the dogs into the yard. About three minutes later, I call the pups to come out to the car. Emma shows up but Butch does not. Curious, I go back into the yard (with Emma following me) and call Butch. Nothing. He’s nowhere in sight. That’s when I notice that my neighbor’s back door is open (the one who just left.)

I walk up to the neighbor’s open door and call Butch. I knock on the open door and call inside to see if the neighbor’s wife/girlfriend is home. No answer. Now Silver Lake has become pretty gentrified but not enough that you can go out and leave your door open like this. While I’m calling Butch, Emma runs into the neighbor’s house.

The neighbor’s back door opens into their kitchen. I take a few tentative steps into the kitchen, excruciatingly uncomfortable and feeling terrible about just walking into the home of someone I barely know while they are not there. I finally spot Butch and see that he is wolfing down cat food out of one of those free-feeding dispensers that holds five pounds of kibble. I grab him and hustle him out the door, but now I can’t get Emma to come when I call her. I really don’t want to go searching through the house, but I’m about to when I hear her start screaming and yipping like she’s being murdered. Sounds like she’s being dealt a feline ass-whupping by the resident cat. I run through the living room and realize she’s in the bedroom. Now I have to go into a stranger’s bedroom to grab my dog who is cowering in terror and refusing to move while the victorious cat sits on the bed washing herself like it’s no big deal. I grab Emma under my arm and head out to find Butch back in the kitchen having at the all-u-can-eat kitty buffet again. I’m completely mortified at this point, Boston under each arm and waiting for my neighbor to return and call the police.

I go out into the yard and hustle the dogs out the gate and over to the car. My mom opens the car door for them and Emma jumps in but Butch decides to take a little detour around the car and over to the garbage cans. Where he immediately gets skunked. AGAIN.

Interesting night…

Because I’m not comfortable with publicly blogging about the big things that are currently on my mind (specifically the new book) here instead is a small post about small things.

I received my first birthday present. A copy of Anthony Neil Smith’s YELLOW MEDICINE from no less than the author himself. (Thanks A.N.!)

Took a brief walk through the Los Feliz Streetfair with Lili, Wes, Boogie and Butch. It was far too hot for Boston Terriers and too filled with messy-headed hipster fucksticks and vegan yoga-moms for me.

I watched Rififi again for the first time in ages and had forgotten how great it is. You have to love a heist movie where a gang of tough guys put on ballet slippers to help them sneak silently into a jewelry store.

My new favorite word: Flapdoodles.