I made contact with the BT breeder lady today. She was very nice, but apparently her email link from her website is not working, so she has to contact her webmistress and see about that. We had a pleasant conversation, and she took my email and will send me an application for a puppy. So, Yay!
Do not hanging around waiting for puppy pictures. If that's why you are clicking here, make a note to check back around June 1, when I may know if I'm getting a puppy from one of her litters. It's not decided until the pups are born and she has a chance to evaluate them as show vs. pet quality, etc. This is not a casual "backyard breeder."
Don't hang around looking for knitting pictures either, because I am in a definite knitting slump. I have WIPs about which I am not feeling the love. I have vague ideas of things I'd like to make, but can't quite get focused on doing it.
I did go to the recycling center to dispose of old paint and cleaning stuff, etc., and then drop by the SPCA, to look for dog prospects and also consider volunteering there. I had it in mind, and then visited their website this morning to get the volunteer application, and it said something like, "We're retooling our volunteer program; check back in April." Um, yeah, it's the middle of April. I'm thinking that will not happen. I dropped by anyway, because I'm still open to adoption, I really am. But... Sigh.
I love pit bulls. I really, truly do. I think they are, in the right families, smart, sweet, goofy, loveable and safe, and probably the most underrated and slandered breed in dog history. But in my circumstances, I can't have a big dog, let alone a dog that will be an Issue with landlords and apartment complexes wherever I land, because ooh noooes, pit bull! The dogs available for adoption were nearly all big to huge, and nearly all pit bulls. Calm, tail-wagging, just heartrendingly sweet faced dogs, but sadly, I'm not able to go in that direction.
Then, there was a face I totally adored - I think it was a Mastiff mix of some sort, a big, happy kid, maybe a year old max. Like a dog that belongs on a dog food commercial - a bright laughing face with a lolling tongue, bright, happy eyes, and just joy exuding from every fiber of his very large but still gangly-young being. He leaped at the bars of his pen with a face of total, happy joy - and when on his hind legs, was as tall as I am. A delightful, gorgeous, big, beautiful dog - and no, I can't have him. I am sure someone will grab that dog in a hot minute, because he's fabulously adorable. In other circumstances, his goofy, happy self would have been riding shotgun home with me, slobbering all over Baby's interior, but that is not the life I have now, and that's that. I must be real here, and do what will work for my future.
I did call a wildlife rehab center and volunteer my time, and at 8 tomorrow morning I will report for duty, cleaning cages and fixing food and bottle-feeding baby critters.