Charlywalker's Blog












The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 4,300 times in 2011. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 4 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.




I have been informed by current dog owners (CDO’s) that it is important to get your new dog a “puppy check” a.s.a.p. I am a new puppy owner and have not owned a dog since childhood and apparently this is a  check-up to verify if you have a healthy or sick dog. This “puppy check” will establish him with a Vetinarian to gain a history and secure his records. Hmm…. very similar to what I did when my kids were born, however, that was covered by insurance.  My dog was a quasi rescue and did not come with any records.  Maybe the Vet will conduct a back round check.  I’ll have Charly-dog present a puppy print to be submitted to the canine data bank.

I did not grab the yellow pages and seek out an established Primary Vet right away, instead, I went the cheaper route and did a one stop shop at the local S.P.C.A to get his initial set of required shots.  Also known as “The Clinic”.  I have worked in the hospital environment and for all of you who work or have worked in a hospital environment; back then the word CLINIC meant: “Line ’em up, step right up, one ata time folks…get your shots here..hurry while they last..that’s right little lady don’t be shy, now serving number 187”: All accompanied by a waiting room full of the village people.

My 15 year old son accompanied me to the clinic clutching the pup close to his chest as if he were cradling a football and running for that 60 yard T.D.to get to the head of the Free Shot Line. We stood in line for over an hour along with other dogs all senior to our pup.  My son tired of holding Charly-dog and decided to set our mongrel down to mingle with the pack, at the ripe old age of 7 weeks.  Apparently my son missed the lecture in the car regarding immunities, vaccines, and death by Parvo!

The line moved slowly toward the table that dispensed the paperwork. They asked for my ID and the name of the dog and DOB.(date of birth). The pup was 7 weeks and was born sometime in July so I made my pre-calculous privately schooled teenage son do the math.

We were then escorted to another table ( the paying one) and gave our donation. We waited in line as  I witnessed the Vet-du-jour give vaccines consecutively to all the dogs as he inched down the line without taking a breath. It came to our turn and I looked at our new puppy resting in my arms staring at me  with those Margeret Keane eyes.   My heart was pounding and I was near tears. I couldn’t watch as this fully Tattooed, braided pony-tailed with no credentials in view VET (?)  approach my pup with a hypo from the 1950’s…….. I made my son do it.

It went so quickly and not one yelp from our puppy, not even a sniff. This master with a needle had a soft touch equipped with precision that didn’t even tussle a piece of fur.  I was so impressed, I slipped the VET a twenty and mentioned that my son is due his tetanus soon and maybe he’s free on Tuesday……..

I may have spoke too soon;  a few days later our pup came down with a doggie cold or as the professionals call it: kennel cough; and, as newbie owners and ignorant about puppy ailments, we did what responsible adults do…….dialed  doggie 911.

It was a weekend and we did not do step one of new puppy ownership: Get Established With A Vet.  So we had to go to an Emergency Vet Hospital, on a weekend, with an On Call Vetinarian….This visit cost nearly the same amount of money as a one nights stay at the Hilton with a spa package.

  The Vet receptionist had us enter through the “sick pet door” where we were quarantined in a corner seat in the waiting area. We were greeted much like a regular hospital E.R.; as their initial instructions were:

“Please sign in and fill out this paperwork”.

Our puppy was lying listless in my lap and displaying shallow breathing. We have only owned this dog for seven weeks and I am presented by the receptionist at the Vet E.R.  with a vibrant blue page to be filled out immediately. I mentioned to her that my dog will be the color of this form by the time I finish with this paperwork.  She turned away smacking her gum to the tune of  Springsteen’s “Born in the USA”……..

  I noticed  at the bottom of this Blue Page there were  two options that required One mandatory check mark:

  Option 1: ( short version) We will take the pet and do everything possible to save it costing you at the least $750.

Option 2: DNR.

I was hoping that DNR had a different meaning than the one used in People Hospitals.  I was thinking that maybe Vet clinics had their own special vernacular and acronyms that pertained to animals, and that maybe their version of DNR meant something less devastating. Like:

Do Note-the Reading-material-while-you-wait……. or…..Dinner Needs Reheating… or…. Did-you Need-to-Rethink-this-puppy-thing?….

As it turned out our pup had a mild form of a kennel cough and just needed a dose of antibiotic and we didn’t need to go to Eddie Bauer in search of an oxygen pup- tent.  Our little pupster came through with flying colors as I stayed curled up next to him throughout the night and day.

I know I inherited this mutt a mere seven weeks prior to his illness and my attachment to him was still in a foreign  stage to me.  I know I was riddled with guilt  despair when I was faced with the decisions of those two options  listed on  the required Royal Page. I know that in those fatal few seconds in between my puppy’s breaths, thoughts flashed through my mind of various views before my pen decided to land in the blank box nestled near the bottom of the Bright blue Form.  My mind was being coerced into choosing between an eight week weakling that I barely knew that could stiff me for a giant Vet bill or Do Nothing Right-now……

I know you are dying to know which option I chose…..

That is not an option………

spread the humor.



{July 2, 2011}   Any Blog In A Storm

God hates me.  I have been blessed with the sarcastic gene in my family.  All my life I have worked very hard to be compliant and follow suit with the more serious society,……. but I can not stop my eyes from rolling to the Heavens every time I see something that strikes my feather brain fancy.   I’ll need to Iron(y)- out that problem later when I visit the Optometrist…….or possibly a shrink.

I just found out that I have a new hobby that I was totally unaware of  until recently:  I am an avid SPAM collector.  I do not intentionally attract spam, it just seems to coagulate around me of its own choice.  I have located spam sitting on my desktop and now it’s following me to my dashboard.  I think I may have a hard drive ahead to try and avoid this spam that is lining my mega mother (cup)board, or maybe I’ll just have to  Byte the bullet and band with the other network of canned  (s)hams…

I decided to open one of the recurring spams whose label spelled out an invitation of flattery.  I   guess  inside this self contained canned junk are ingredients to saturate the eye sites of people caught up in a web of nonsense.  I think my spam collection really came to fruition when I started  visiting various avenues in order to site see more effectively.  Some of the venues I  managed to stumble across made me absorb the contents and forced my eyes to roll causing an infused  feeling of Ad nauseam.

I also found out that my spam collection is not solely set in a National genre,  it has spread  it’s little spam cans..er legs….Internationally as well.  I have collected a lot of Love From Russia which scared the Living Daylights outta me when they headline their specialty spam: For Your Eyes Only………

My spam is compiling on a daily basis and I am starting to wonder if I have a problem.  Maybe I can try to clean my desktop and rid my cluttered dashboard of all the hazardous spam that I have accumulated from different cities.  I thought about setting the spam collectibles on the shelf next to my shot glass collection.   It  could be quite the conversation piece  when I offer  my guests a shot of  International spam to go with their cocktail weenies…

I was just thinking if there might be a spam headquarters that is operated by a head cheese who controls  the outflow of spam.   This product is so amass in daily life,  that I find myself being unable to avoid collecting it.  No matter how many times I empty the spam into the trash it still resurfaces around me and multiplies faster than my sons TI-84 during a Calculus exam….

Maybe I’ll need to join spam anonymous to rid the  addictive cycle that burns hard  and can d(e)rive chaos onto a  pristine dashboard.

Maybe they can get to the core reason as to why I decided this late in life to start collecting spam; or tap into my Blog-havior that  attracts this unsolicited call of doody…  This is a techno ataxia of  a spam-nation. This is a mystery meating  of my desktop  in cohabitation with a special product of Austin Minnesota that is surely out of my control.

Maybe I’ll just have to acquire a taste for spam since it is so readily available….I could top it off with some drudge and a side of crhackers…

Maybe I’ll find something else that tweets my interest so I stop this spam consumption before I hack-n-eye.

spread the humor


et cetera
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