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Yesterday was ruff.

It was a WILD morning yesterday at the Large Household.

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A tiny bit of pandemonium en la casa around 7 AM as my oldest son was in front of our house getting in some last-minute parallel parking practice before his road test later that morning, my middle son was getting ready for school while packing his shit for football practice after-school, and my wife and daughter were preparing to jet into the city because my daughter got another gig as an extra for some new movie coming out.

And what was I doing?… I was cooking breakfast for the whole tribe before I was going to escort the potentially new driver to the local DMV.  After which, I was going into HQ to tape the Twisted History of Insects with Vibbs (attached), film a quick social spot for NASCAR's new food service with Spider and Quigs, and then tape a Zoom interview with the WBC Heavyweight Champion of the World Tyson Fury before he squares off with Deontay Wilder for the third time next weekend in Vegas.

So 5 family members having 5 individually busy mornings… And anyone with kids can understand that makes for a hectic household.

But there are 2 more pseudo-members I failed to mention… I have two dogs.  One is a wonderful Welsh Terrier named O'Shea Jackson and the other is a despicable French Bulldog named Blue Cheese.

Blue has been nothing but heartache since we got her and coming from a near-50-year-old guy who has had dogs his whole life, this fucking dog is BY FAR the worst I have ever encountered.

I have had all types of ethnic dogs… Irish Setters, Newfoundlands, Kerry Blue Terriers, English Bulldogs, German Shepherds, Tibetan Mastiffs, English Cocker Spaniels, and the aforementioned Welshie.  But it's this French bitch that has actually made me hate the French nationality entirely.

I went back to ordering "freedom fries" in the diner, but not out of some patriotic urge.  Instead, just to spite the French Bulldog that is inevitably chewing up my carpets at home.

Anyhoo, my wife saw a little daylight in our morning, so she put the two dogs on a leash and took them out for their walks.



So to recap… I'm at the sink washing a Taylor Ham stained pan, my daughter is upstairs in her bathroom doing her hair, my middle guy is in the basement getting socks, my oldest is parking between plastic safety pylons I stole from a construction site and set up outside my house, and my wife is walking up our block with the 2 dogs.



All of a sudden I hear a very loud and confusing scream… It sounded like an older black lady putting it on a little too much for sympathy after falling down at a cookout… Almost like an "OH LAWDY LAWDY!"-type howl.

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Originally, I thought perhaps the TV was left on too loud, but then I suddenly realized that the older black lady was my wife!

I ran out my front door in just a t-shirt and boxer briefs… No shoes.

I looked 4 houses down from mine on the opposite side of the street and saw my wife on the ground, wresting (not 'wrestling') our Frenchie from the jaws of an attacking German Shepherd.

I shouted out, "FUCK!"… And, I believe, "OH LAWDY LAWDY!" as well.

I began to run towards her at an embarrassingly slow speed just as my oldest jumped out of my brand-new car in order to do the same thing.

The only problem is my oldest forgot to put my car in park, so as he jumped out, the car kept rolling forward… An infraction that would certainly fail him in the road test he was scheduled to take in just a few hours.

So he jumps back in the car, slams her into PARK, then jumps out, and starts running towards his mom along with me.

By the time we had gotten to Annie and the pups, the owner of the Shepherd had run out of his own house and quickly jumped on top of his uncontrollable animal.  He was courageously wrestling it like a fucking wild gator, and you could see blood pouring from the owner's hands and face as he rolled around on the concrete with his triggered beast.

I did what any sane person would do in the situation… I scooped up the smaller dog in my arms and then my oldest, my wife, my terrier, and I (with the Frenchie in tow) began to run frantically back to our house before the dog broke free from his owners smothering grasp.

The four of us got back in the house and I slammed the door behind us as if there was a battalion of white walkers at our heels…

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… And then we slumped on the floor, exhausted and shaken, as my other kids came rushing from different floors to see what the fuck was going on?

My wife's hand was bleeding from where she punched the German Shepherd in the mouth and her knee began to swell up like a balloon because she hyper-extended it at some point during the fracas.

The bulldog's white fur was covered in blood… Mainly from the puncture wounds she had on her side and hip.

The Welsh Terrier only had minor injuries to the pads on his paws that he acquired as he ran away from the whole thing as far as his telescoping leash would allow as soon as the attack began.  I didn't know much about this breed of terrier before I bought it except that it was a natural "ratter" (meaning it had an innate desire to hunt vermin), but now I know that Welsh Terriers are natural cowards as well… I kinda admire that, to be honest.

My wife was INFURIATED as she sat on the floor grasping the dog and her knee, and I instinctively called 911 because I didn't trust myself to handle the situation correctly.

--- I can kid around about my own natural cowardice, but, as a man, when you see any member of your family assaulted, you get a natural inclination to reply in kind to whoever did the assaulting.  So calling the cops seemed like a logical thing to do in this situation. --- 

The officer got to my house within 10 minutes or so, and my wife limped out to explain what happened.

I also came out to give my 2 cents, which was, "Officer, I have an 11-year-old daughter who walks our dogs often… If this happened while she was with them, she could've been seriously hurt, and then I would fucking kill the owners."

The officer scolded me, saying that she was wearing a body-cam and that I cannot levy threats like that on tape.

To which I replied, "Body-cam?… I don't care if you have a fucking camera CREW… Do something about this fucking dog before I go over there and kill someone."

And then I walked inside.

And then I walked back outside to apologize to the officer… But, again, when your family gets assaulted, you do and say things that are out of character.


Anyhoo again… The cop took a full statement from my wife and then went down the street to interview the neighbor.

Meanwhile, we had to get back to our own reality because my daughter's shoot could not be missed, my son's road test could not be rescheduled, and my middle guy had no reason to miss class.

So we washed off Blue Cheese and got her comfy on the couch.

Finn walked to school, and Bridget continued to get herself ready for her scene.

Mick pulled my car back into our driveway and began to get his paperwork ready for the DMV.

My wife called the vet, and then called her mom to see if she could help us out as we were all about to go our separate ways.

And I finally put on pants.

The police officer came back to our house after speaking with our neighbor and informed us that she had spoken to the husband.  He was pretty banged up and expressed regret for what happened.  Through the cop, he extended his apologies and offered to pay for any damages that his dog may have caused.

And that is a true gentlemanly way of handling the situation… I appreciated it tremendously.

When my wife had asked the officer if she had seen the German Shepherd that was the root of all these problems, she was told "No" because my neighbor's wife had already left with the dog to have it put down.



Wait… What?!?!



Perhaps this dog had a history and this was the last straw, or perhaps this family just saw no other way to nip this problem in the bud… But within 20 minutes of this attack, these people were putting a bow on the incident by eliminating the source… They were putting their dog to sleep.

I have to be honest… That news was SHOCKING to all of us.

Maybe I would've insisted on it at some point… MAYBE.  But never in my wildest dreams did I think that the dog that attacked my wife and pups would be dead within the hour.

So now the cops leave, my mother-in-law shows up, and the family just kinda goes our separate ways.  

My son left to process what happened in first period Social Studies.  My wife and daughter while on set for Billy Eichner's new gay love story.  And my son and I while waiting in line for a road test at the Wayne, NJ DMV.

Annie actually called me from her car and asked me how I thought she handled the whole thing.  

And since I thought she did exactly what she should've done in the face of an animal attack, I answered, "You killed it."

And since I am an asshole, after a second or so, I added, "Literally."

--- You know… Because she inadvertently was involved with a situation that killed a dog. --- 

After a couple of moments of dead air, I could hear both her and my daughter start to giggle… That's how we deal with stuff in our family.  We make inappropriate jokes.

Right after they were done laughing, my wife said, "Maybe we should go out for German tonight."… Which is an even more fucked up thing to say, but, again, that's what we do.  

And then my 11 year old said, "Or maybe you should make a Shepherd's Pie."

So my kids are just as fucked up as we are.

I haven't spoken to the neighbors yet, but the dad had come by the house to apologize while we were out and he spoke to my mother-in-law briefly.

I believe they have a couple of kids, and although I am angry that my people had gotten hurt, I also feel sorry for a family that just lost their dog… It's a real roller-coaster of emotions.

The vet dressed up Blue's wounds, and she's fine.  She is just going to be in pain for a few days.  He gave her some painkillers that he said would need to be wrapped in cheese in order to be taken, but I just took another 2 with some water, and I was right as rain.

In between Twisted History and Fury yesterday, I called home to make sure Annie was okay, and she said, "Blue is resting comfortably my knee is still jacked, and it's been a long day… But you know what that means for tonight?"

And I immediately said, "Do you mean we are having dead-dog sex?"

And she immediately said, "No, you fucking pervert!… I mean we are going out for a couple of drinks." 

And I said, "Ohhhhhhh… My bad."

We both use alcohol as an emotional crutch, but apparently only one of us can use animal death as an aphrodisiac.


Fast forward to today, and we are in an uncomfortable spot.

I walked the dogs this morning, but I took them in the opposite direction of that neighbor so it didn't seem like I was "rubbing it in" that my two are still alive.

My daughter wants to bake cookies for the family to express condolences, but I am more inclined to just leave it alone.

All I know is that I affectionately call my wife 'Stalin' because she's killed more Germans before breakfast than the rest of the family has done their entire lives.

Take a report.