Get Out Of Jail FREE! (Or For $41.00)

Good news, "Um...What??" readers! There have been many, many exciting updates in Buster's life since my last post!!

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Reader #1:  "What last post?"
Reader #2:  "Was I old enough to read back then?"
Reader #3:  "Did you blog on a cave wall?"
Reader #4:  "OH. YOU'RE NOT DEAD??"

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Yeah, yeah, I know. Plus? I totally made up that third one. Wil Wheaton doesn't read this blog. But if he did? That would be so much cooler than even having Prince Charles as a reader. And for those of you who are new here yes, Prince Charles totally reads my blog. Although I probably just screwed that up by writing that thing about Wil Wheaton being cooler. Idiot.

Anyway, back to my point WHICH I ACTUALLY DO HAVE. In a long line of many recent developments for Buster, the biggest one is THIS:

Buster?

Is FREE!!!

   

Cell phone images as pieces of sh*t art.
Because seriously? I'm pretty sure my toaster would take better pictures than my "camera" phone.

It wasn't easy busting out Buster. It was actually just this side of damn near impossible. This is mostly because the fact that Buster is a Pit Bull ran up against another lesser known fact that an apparent job requirement for working at this shelter is that you need to be a total f*cktard. And to be fair I'm not saying every person who works there is a total f*cktard, I'm just referring to the particular ones I met WHICH WAS ALL OF THEM. This does not, however, include the volunteers who all seemed very sweet. Though they also seemed nervous and paranoid, which is something I deduced from the way they continuously said things like, "I'm not telling you this" (a comment that punctuated the endpoint of every single thing they told me) and "Don't tell anyone I talked to you," all while wearing those Groucho Marx glasses. Okay, obviously I'm just kidding about that last part. That was actually the dogs.
      

Witness Protection Program: This is not Buster.
(Photo taken with camera toaster.)

You'd lay low too, if you were Buster, because – to review – he understands the volunteers are behaving like this because they are volunteering at a prison under the iron-fist rule of TOTAL F*CKTARD NAZI "SHELTER" WORKERS where shelter = GAS CHAMBER and workers = PEOPLE WHO WILL NOT DO ONE STITCH OF WORK TO ACTUALLY HELP YOU ADOPT AN ANIMAL because they do not care and they are county employees and they cannot be fired no matter what they do YAY!

Remember how I wrote earlier that I was totally wrong about the stereotype of the unfeeling, uncaring, menacing, Animal Control worker? Well, I was totally wrong about being totally wrong. And before all you Animal Control workers send me a bunch of nasty hate mail (because I have no doubt every animal control worker in the state of California reads this blog because, well, who doesn't?), no, I am not talking about you and I am sure you are lovely and wonderful and full of heart and all about putting the needs of helpless animals first. This is about all the other animal control workers who are not you. And now that we are all square on that, I will continue.

Buster's plight was two-fold: Not only did some idiot stick him in the C@st@ic animal shelter (AHEM) (and yes I am disguising the shelter name because I don't need those a$$hats finding this post) (again going back to the idea that every Animal Control worker in the world reads this blog blah blah blah SUCK IT, ANIMAL CONTROL), but he also had the bad luck of being a Pit Bull. But the thing is, he's not a full Pit Bull. He doesn't even seem to be half. He's a big old mushy mix which, as far as we can tell, includes some Pit Bull and a lot of Boxer and Staffordshire Terrier and Sharpei and, oh yeah, some TEDDY BEAR, too. In other words? He's as completely terrifying as you'd imagine:

(Photo taken with camera blow-dryer.)

Unbeknownst to me, putting a Pit Bull (mix or not) into this particular shelter is nothing short of condemning him to death. Only you don't actually put a dog into a shelter, you impound him because apparently dogs are just the same as stolen or illegally parked cars. And yes, I actually said the words (where said = had a Defcon 5 meltdown), "THIS IS A DOG NOT A DODGE!!" to the total f*cktard working behind the desk who told me, "THIS IS NOT YOUR DOG, THIS IS OUR PROPERTY!!" because I think we were having a noun-naming contest that I'm fairly sure I lost because do they even make Dodges anymore? I don't know. But if they do, Buster would love to ride around in one because Buster loves adventures in the car.

You see, different rules apply to Pit Bulls and these rules cause RED TAPE GALORE that not even a highly intelligent person such as myself could navigate within the five day "safety" window, after which they can put him down whenever they want because, "THIS IS NOT YOUR DOG, THIS IS OUR PROPERTY." And even if you could navigate the red tape, they really don't want you to, because that would require work on their part and they do not do that. Because you know something is seriously wrong when your question of "You would put this dog down before you bothered to even make one phone call to me?" is met with four faces staring back at you in one, collective DUH.

Pits never get back out. That's what one volunteer told me. In whispered tones. While wearing a bag over her head. And slowly dying on the inside.
    

Because I live in an apartment, they wouldn't consider releasing him to me. Most management companies don't carry the insurance required for vicious dog breeds such as Buster and you can't even begin to attempt to sneak him in because Animal Control will call your management company first to alert them that YOU HAVE A VICIOUS, KILLER DOG LIVING ON THEIR PROPERTY.
   

Vicious Personified.
(Photo taken with camera vacuum.)

It didn't matter to them the seventeen different ways I tried to explain that he wouldn't actually be living with me permanently. It didn't matter to them how I tried to explain over and over I was working as fast as I could to find him a good home so could you please assure me that you won't put him down? It just didn't matter to them insert any possible phrase of your choosing here. Because while this is the current Animal Control logo:

 

It really should be this:

Sure, I could give them a friend's address, but that wasn't working either because they will immediately call said friend's homeowner's insurance company to let them know THEY HAVE A VICIOUS, KILLER DOG LIVING ON THEIR PROPERTY (even though he wouldn't be living there permanently and blah blah blah SUCK IT, ANIMAL CONTROL) and therefore you should be charged $200,000 more a year in insurance. Or whatever. I'm just making up the number. But trust me, it is close enough. And it really comes down to Animal Control covering their own ass in case your VICIOUS, KILLER DOG eats one of your neighbors while they are visiting. Case in point:

WARN THE NEIGHBORS.
(Photo taken with camera garden hose.)

So in the end, after much fretting and scrambling on my part and daily visits to Buster whom the "Shelter" Nazis would not, by the way, even let me even take out of his cage TOTAL F*CKTARDS and numerous phones calls and MORE FRETTING and no sleep due to EXCESSIVE FRETTING, my very sweet friend Kim (who is now totally in my will which means she might one day get my entire net worth of about $300 and believe me, she has earned it) pulled some strings and got Buster's plight presented to Ace of Hearts, an incredibly wonderful dog rescue organization that stepped in and threw their considerable weight around (special thanks to Whitney) to get Buster IMMEDIATELY SET FREE. Their motto? "We rescue all breeds...and don't discriminate against any!" TAKE THAT, ANIMAL CONTROL! You can suck it. And another thing: It was amazing how quickly the total f*cktards became my BFF's forever after I had Ace backing my efforts. That is called still not giving a sh*t but being afraid of bad press, or BEING TOTAL F*CKTARDS. Also, if you can get to the actual adoption stage, the cost of bringing home a wonderful, new family member is a very nominal fee of $41.00, which includes neutering and microchipping. It's the best $41 you'll ever spend.

And now? Lesley and Buster are totally in love:
        

And NO I am not wearing Blueblockers sunglasses.
(Photos taken with camera fire hydrants.)

So, tonight Kim and I are taking Buster to a lovely woman who is going to foster him for a couple weeks. Her name is Angel and YES, I'm pretty sure that's not a coincidence. Angel has previously adopted a big, wonderful Bulldog named Lily from Ace, so we already know what a huge heart and love-filled home she has. Up until now Buster has been staying with Kim, and words can never express how grateful I am to her and her family for stepping in the day that Buster busted out. Her parents took her dog while she and her husband took Buster, and her cats took to the bedroom while Buster took over the house. It's been no small effort by ever-growing Team Buster and my part in it has really been the smallest. And all of this has taught me something, too:  While some people do totally suck, others can really surprise you. In the end, I think all hope for humanity might not be lost after all. But don't quote me when I totally change my mind on this subject tomorrow.

So in conclusion, "Um...What??" readers, I leave you with one more thing. It was inspired by my friend MC, who said the following to me in a voice mail message two days ago:

"I think your blog ratings are slipping, and we need to return to the fundamentals, and by that I mean MORE STAR WARS REFERENCES."

Alrighty then. Same story as above, done over sci-fi style:

 
Evil Animal Control DEATH ROW PRISON WARDEN.
     

Evil TOTAL F*CKTARDS working for the warden at Animal Control DEATH ROW PRISON CAMP.


Heroic Ace of Hearts swoops in and comes to Buster's aid!
   

YAY! Buster is saved!

THE END.

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For more information on adopting this wonderful boy, please visit here.