I used to buy my dog food from the usual suspects, PetSmart, Petco, etc. One store in particular used to be my favorite until they started coming up short on product, particularly the products I always purchase. When they stopped stocking my favorite foods and began pushing the more commercial products, I gave up on ‘em.

There is something to buying local and here in Altadena, there is a big push to buy from the local community businesses and I’m sold on the idea. Instead of passing by Steve’s Pets on Lake, I decided to park the car one day and walk in. Was I ever surprised. They even support those of us who are seriously considering the raw diet. Now yes, they do sell some of the same specialty foods you may find in the big chain stores but they also sell food you probably won’t find like organics, whole chicken legs and thighs in a can — dogs love that — nice wholesome treats (my dogs love the sweet potato treats) and much more.

I have now switched over to a different kibble, which my dogs absolutely love, and their assortment of canned foods has caused my dogs eyes to light up — I mix kibble and canned foods. I’ve never seen my dogs so excited to eat. They now tell me when it’s feeding time.

After trying different varieties out with my dogs, I have now given up on the big chains and am buying all of my dog food, treats and supplies at Steve’s because it is the best store for pets I’ve seen in a long time. I want them to stay around because stores like this are hard to find. I’ll also be honest about something else. I have a love for German Shepherds and there is one lovable German Shepherd in that store. Actually, a big ole love nugget if I should say so myself.

Anywho, if you’re at, near, close to or want to take a drive into beautiful Altadena, check out Steve’s Pets at 2395 North Lake Avenue in Altadena. I highly recommend it and so do my dogs.

Not my Boxer girlah but looks like my girlah -- more can be seen at http://coldnosephoto.com/rescue-sasha/

Oh my God, my poor, poor girlah. I believe her white coat has everyone believing she is anything but a real Boxer. But, she is a real boxer.

A few weeks back a guy asked“hey lady, where did you get your Valley Bulldog?” Valley Bulldog? When Mr. Running Dude finally caught up to us I asked him what the heck is a Valley Bulldog. He told me they come from Nova Scotia and they are a mix of Boxer and English Bulldog. They are either taller versions of an English Bulldog or shorter versions of a Boxer.

Hmmm, I pondered this for about a week and then asked a friend if he’d ever heard of a Valley Bulldog. His immediate response was “your dog’s no Valley Bulldog, she’s a Pit Bull/Boxer mix.” What? Some of my best friends are Pit Bulls and none of them look like her. My mother had a Boxer/Pit Bull mix and she looked nothing like my girlah. Pit Bulls have heads filled with the jaws of death. The jaw bone on a Pit Bull can hang onto anything for hours. I know, I used to do it with my mother’s dog. That dog and I had fun with pull toys. I would put one end in her mouth, hang her from the ceiling and she would hold on until the cows came home. I did this with my girlah and she promptly let the thing go.

Jaws of death she does not have but she can give you a good face washing with that tongue of hers. That she loves doing. She also loves doing the typical Boxer jump up on your body and put her face in your face kind of thing.

So, next, I heard she was an American Bulldog/Boxer mix like this little sweetheart here. Well yes, this sweet little one does look like my girlah (particularly the last two pix) but, in my humble opinion, there is no American Bulldog in that dog. What I see is all Boxer and unfortunately, because of the color, everyone thinks the White Boxer is not a Boxer. Why? Because many of them are killed immediately after birth, thus you won’t see ‘em.  Some are born deaf, which causes them to have an even goofier look, and for show purposes, a pure white boxer is not recognized by the American Kennel Club. Unfortunately, White Boxers are often used for whelping flashy Boxers.

I had always wanted a Boxer and, after losing my little Diva Dawg last year, started checking out big jowled dogs — English Bulldogs, Olde English Bulldogs, Boxers, Mastiffs, etc.  I don’t know, maybe I like having to clean their nasty mouths after they eat.

I love Boxers because they are goofy, lovable dogs that are never bored with putting their face in your face. I checked out Boxer Rescue LA and fell in love with a couple of monkey-faced boxers and two White Boxers. Loved them. I did not know I would end up at Pasadena SPCA to see this beautiful girl snarfling at me. Oh yes, she chose me and I said okay. When the woman told me “oh, and she’s deaf”, it didn’t matter. We were a match made in heaven.

I’ve since learned she can hear, particularly when I’m shouting no to her new little love bunny. Oh my God she’s always kissing that boy. Too, she is a smart little cookie because we have accomplished a whole bucket load of sign language which she chooses to heed or ignore at her whim. Yes and our little sign for “Treat, Treat” never goes unnoticed, even when I say the words — imagine that. My girlah is quite a goofey pistol.

My Girlah

Finally, I went to my friend who has had Boxers all of her life, whelped them, bred them, fed them, nursed them, did everything Boxer and she said “that girl’s a Boxer.” She even took a photo I had of the girlah and superimposed a monkey-face on her and voila, out popped the Boxer. My friend then said, “it’s because she’s white that no one believes she’s a purebred Boxer.” Oh dear, now that’s prejudice gone a different way.

Yes indeed, she is a Boxer. She is not a Valley Bulldog, a Bulloxer, a Bull Boxer, Pit/Boxer, a StaffyBoxer, an American Bulloxer, or anything else. She’s a Boxer, and she’s white, and she has a little selective hearing but she’s my lovable Boxer girlah and . . . SHE’S GOT STICKS for front legs. Nuff said.

My Boxer Girl

I haven’t had much time for the web lately because of other things going on in my life. No, not lupus, chemo, or anything having to do with lupus, it’s just I’ve been busy. One role that has kept me very busy is becoming alpha dog. Yes, alpha dog.

I recently adopted another Boxer and the boy is wild. Beautiful dog, a little on the thin side and he appears to have had some training but, unfortunately, it was never reinforced which means I’m constantly on him to enforce or reinforce the training lodged somewhere deep in his memory. He remembers it but he doesn’t want to remember and that has kept me very busy.

My white Boxer, who is either somewhat deaf or has selective hearing, believes I brought the guy home for her. She is now acting as if she has a new toy and won’t leave the guy alone. Everywhere he goes she goes. She chases the poor fella all over the yard and, as Boxers are wont to do, they play goofy games with each other all day. They are a joy to watch.

However, with two big dogs I have had to step into the position of alpha dog to ensure they play nicely together and behave while inside. This has meant breaking up the snarls and growls when either in tight spaces or when food is being served.

Whispering sweet nothings

Since the man is so wild, my girl started channeling her inner wolf. She growls, snarls, shows off her fangs, charges and does an excellent job of muscle popping blustering. Since she cannot be alpha-1, me, she has decided to content herself in being alpha-2.

The other night, during feeding time of course, she played a silly little game thinking she would avoid me flexing my alpha muscles. It didn’t work. I saw her get low to the gate, which separates their feeding areas, and watched as she showed him every tooth in her mouth as if to say “don’t even think about my food.” No growling, no snarls, she just showed off her teeth. I wanted to laugh hysterically but could not. Instead I had to put my face in her face to let her know the boy is not a dentist.

Boxers are such goofy dogs and they have provided me with loads of laughs. They are such good medicine for me and I love ‘em dearly. Unfortunately, I will have to return to school with the boy because he really does not want to remember his lessons and he is in dire need of obedience training.

A fine specimen of a manly man

Oh somebody please come get Bambi, she's eating my bushes!! Oy!

Beware, this is a rant. These last few days of the Station Fire have made me realize some folks are just whinny little babies. First, I heard folks complaining about not receiving a reverse 911 call from whomever to tell them to evacuate their homes. Hello! Think about the good old days, if you will, when people knew there was a fire nearby, smelled the smoke, saw the flames and got the hell out. Why are folks acting like everyone owes them something and they can’t move their fannies to save their lives unless someone tells them to do so. What is wrong with these people?

A friend of mine had no problem doing just that. She saw the fire coming over the ridge and she loaded up the truck and she headed out. No one had to tell her to leave, she didn’t wait for an invitation to evacuate, she didn’t look for officers to come knocking door-to-door, she just left.

Again, since California is a cash-strapped state you would think folks would stop thinking about who owes them something and take the initiative to move on their own. Help the state, help the city, help your neighbors for peet’s sake and take some initiative. It’s all about me isn’t it? I’m just saying.

Next, we have the folks mad with firefighters because they didn’t save their homes. Hello! You chose to move into an area with tall trees, wild brush, and your house hangs off the side of a canyon. You knew or should have known this day would come. Had it been me with a house in the mountains knowing a fire could strike at any time, I would have my stuff laid out and ready to go. It’s called a disaster plan. I’m out. I will return to rebuild later. I do not want firefighters risking their lives for my material possessions. Knock down the fires and if my house goes it goes. Hopefully, if I have insurance or can get insurance I will rebuild the thing. Nothing in this world is worth losing your life or risking the lives of others, particularly for material possessions. Have a disaster plan and be done with it.

In Altadena it got particularly cute. Folks got their panty hose and boxer shorts out of alignment when Altadena was skipped for names like La Canada, Pasadena, and Sierra Madre. Folks actually attended a meeting — as they should have — some stating they were going to represent for Altadena. Hello! Who cares!!! We are all in this together, all of the Foothill communities and I could not care less if they mention Altadena or not. Quite frankly, until I moved here I didn’t know this place existed and as stated in a prior post, if you blink you’ll miss it. I cannot blame news men and women who don’t get it because we are, to be blunt, surrounded by Pasadena and mountains. It’s easy to make the mistake particularly when you are truly operating under fire.

I will admit, I did find it funny though when one person shouted out “what about Altadena” and another shouted out “what about Seattle, Washington.”   Yeah and what about Chicago, Illinois.  Basically, who cares!!!

Take care of your families, ensure the sick and shut-in can get out, spend time concerning yourself with people because life is too short. Who cares about this other mess.

Then there were the folks who complained stating how quickly fire departments rushed to put out the fire in Rancho Palos Verdes. I have friends who live in Rancho Palos Verdes and I want you to know PV is dense with homes in all sorts of nooks and crannies. To avoid loss of life they had better get in there quick and put that fire out. Sure, there are some fancy and very expensive homes in there but oh my God is the place filled with them. That’s right folks, run, fly but don’t walk to put a fire out up there.

Of course, with all fires comes the comment “if we were in Malibu . . .” fill in the blanks. If memory serves me, I did see a lot of the fires in Malibu, Topanga Canyon, and the more recent one in Santa Barbara. Sure, they got a lot of news coverage because, HELLO, this is Southern California the home of Hollyweird. The news folks love talking about the homes of Brad Pitt, Oprah Winfrey and so many more. I also remember a lot of those homes of famous people burned completely to the ground. Those big names did not save those big homes. Like everyone else who builds a house or lives in one atop a mountain or in a canyon, it can and will go up in flames and trust, the fire won’t care who owns the home.

Finally, the poor animals. I cannot believe folks are now flooding the lines because they are finding deer in their backyard doing the “I can haz your bushes” party. They want them out, out, out! Hello!!! These poor guys just lost their home. They’ve been hiding out trying to escape death. Let’s not forget we have moved into their territory and we love them, we love the wildlife and that’s what we love — I hope — about living near the foothills. Stop whining!! Let them eat for heaven’s sake and remember we are their caretakers too. Let them eat the doggone bushes and replant the things when this whole mess is over and their bellies are full.

One woman asked me the other day “but don’t deer carry ticks?” Wow, you didn’t know? You’ve been living out here all of these years and didn’t realize they’ve been in your neighborhood eating all your bushes with their parasites in tow? Yes, animals in the wild have fleas, ticks and other parasites. That cute but rather fat skunk (or raccoon and there are some big ones out here) may have ticks and fleas too.

Don’t get me wrong, I am saddened by the news of those who lost their homes, their possessions, animals, those who were hurt and the death of two firefighters. But, I think in Southern California there is a disconnect between what one should concern themselves with in a disaster and superfluous BS.  Of all of the bulletin boards I saw, very few posts were concerned with helping the elderly, concern for their neighbors who are non-ambulatory, didn’t hear anything about putting another up in a hotel who could not afford it.  No, the multitudes were concerned with me, me, me, or complaining about what they didn’t get and what they believe they were owed by their cash-strapped state and cities. Give me a break.

Sure, it’s okay to vent like I’m venting now but please, please, consider others for a change and take your ego out of it. Good grief.

Now I’m seeing signs up everywhere thanking the firefighters and they should be thanked because their job was a hard one in 100 plus degree heat.  But, if you really want to help them, clear your property of brush, create mountain teams to help clear brush, set up evacuation teams on your block or in your neighborhood to assist with evacuations, simply do something besides look for someone to do something for you.

Since local television news stations provided no news to those affected by the fire, I went out to drive around the neighborhood to see for myself.  Hindsight being 20/20, it probably was not the best thing I could have done because I later suffered a painful lung ailment.  Since I wanted and needed to know what was going on in my community, I took a big chance and took some photographs to boot.  What I saw told me the Angeles Forest will be off limits to me for some time and that’s unfortunate.

Equally unfortunate, the loss of Hidden Springs Cafe.  The cafe was a nice little spot off Angeles Forest Hwy. and they served up some good apple cider and homemade chili.  Will they rebuild?  I certainly hope so.  According to an article I found at the Chicago Tribune’s website, the guys put up a valiant fight but had to throw in the towel when the wall of fire came at them.   All that is left of the cafe is the familiar telephone booth and the remains of the chimney.

Newscombs Ranch Inn is the other landmark in the mountains.  It is the little haunt you see just before you get to Wrightwood.  For a time folks were saying it too had burned to the ground but I never saw anything to confirm it sans rumor and I wondered if people were confusing it with Hidden Springs Cafe.  Fortunately, as I write this, Newcombs is still standing though it is in danger.

On the home front, I will note I did see the comment made on a particular blog and I will also note it is not the first time I’ve seen insensitive comments made there.  Coming from Chicago, I’m quite familiar with idiots and I am not so foolish to believe there are no idiots in Altadena.  I personally am not taking the comment as seriously as some but then I’ve been told I can be quite forgiving, whatever that means.  I will admit it was shocking to see but again, you will find idiots wherever you go.

Well, it’s time I took an antibiotic and return to bed.  Thankfully, the fires in my neck of the woods are gone and this weekend should be smoke-free provided nothing else happens.  The concerns now are for the Adams Pack Station at Chantry Flats– a place I’ve never visited — the cabins in that area and Newcombs.  I hope they all survive this.  Actually, I hope we all survive this and I hope, if there are plans to replant anything in the mountains and hills, they will use native plants to California.  There is so much of that invasive crap out here from out-of-state it would be a shame to see more of that mess spread throughout our mountains.  That would make this sad event even sadder.

I will say after moving to Altadena in 1996, I saw plenty coyote roaming about, particularly on trash days.  One evening I pulled into my driveway to find Wile E. Coyote in my yard nom noming on something he pulled from the neighbor’s trash.  Wile E. reluctantly walked away but I knew he would return and return he did to nom nom some more on his prized possession.

In the last couple of years I’ve not seen Wile E. and the gang roaming the streets and wondered where they went.  It was not uncommon for me to meet up with at least six to ten of them roaming the streets in the evening — sometimes in packs.  Unfortunately, I relaxed a bit thinking they all must have traveled to Long Beach where I hear they are having quite a coyote problem and then, one night, there he was.

I pulled into my driveway one evening and saw a rather sad little creature — probably a young pup — walking the streets alone.  He tried to hide from my headlights by stopping behind a neighbor’s hedge.  When he saw I wasn’t moving he ran to the next yard and another hedge.  Nope, wasn’t moving for that either.  Finally he took off running down the street and I watched closely as he moved on.  Whew, that was close.  I’ve heard stories of folks being nipped by coyotes and I didn’t want to meet up with those sharp teeth.

A few days later, another Wile E. Coyote and he looked a bit healthier than the last one but still, not much meat on those bones.  Thankfully, he knew a little something about cars and lights and thought it best to turn the corner and head down another street.

Yes, be careful what you ask for because you just might get it.  The two I saw were nothing like the packs I saw years ago and that might be a good thing.  On the other hand, they look so bad — as in starving — they could be quite dangerous.