Bad To The Bone

On the day I was born, the nurses all gathered ’round

And they gazed in wide wonder, at the joy they had found

The head nurse spoke up, and she said leave this one alone

She could tell right away, that I was bad to the bone

Bad to the bone

Bad to the bone

B-B-B-B-Bad to the bone



Bad to the bone

– ZZ Top


I get around to trolling the interwebs for puppies about once a week. I begin my search with the local Humane Societies. You know, just doin’ my part – tryin’ to save a soul from the street life. But rarely ever do I find a pup that fits the mold I have prematurely carved out in my heart.

Yeah, yeah, I’m one of those do-gooder-pick-‘n-chooser types.

Suck it.

Anywho, just a couple of weeks ago I found the sweetest little mutt-nugget on one of my go-to shelter sites. Athena was a teeny, tiny, little Morkie (Maltese/Yorkie mix) baby not even ready for adoption. She was born on Valentine’s Day (ahh… I died) and was only a mere six inches long when they posted her pics on February 19. I quickly dropped a line to the Moms, “Ma! Guess what!” I squealed. “What?” she matched my tone. I proceeded to tell her about my latest online shopping find. “Babe, you’re 25-years-old. What do you want me to tell ya? All I can say is, you better call before you do anything. Remember what happened last time?”

Yeah, I remembered…


I had found the most beautiful Lab/Husky mix. He was chocolate, and fluffy, and I loved him. Sully (that was what I was going to name him – Sully) had ice-blue eyes and the sweetest little face. I was just about to fill out an adoption application; however, I made the mistake of texting Bubba instead. My brother threw me a curve ball. Rather than jumping at the opportunity to expand our family… he shot my dreams of becoming a mother of two down. “You can’t take care of a puppy. You are never home and that means I’d have to do it. The puppy can’t be left outside like Sonny. He can’t get to the water. That means I’d have to go and stay with him and take him out. And you go out of town more than anyone I know. Look, if you adopt him and I end up taking more care of him than you… when I move out I’m gonna take that bastard with me.”

What a d-bag.

While he rattled on and on about what kinda half-assed mother he thought I was, I started a group chat, and included Mace in the debate. “Mace, tell Bubs I should adopt Sully.” Her immediate response was, “He is so cute!!!!” “I. Knooooow. And I’d be adopting him. So doing it for a good cause.” “I love him. I want to cuddle him.” Feeling triumphant, we started to make plans to go visit him the next afternoon.


The next day, I broke down and confessed to Momma. She admitted she had overheard my younger siblings arguing the night before. I caught her up on what was going on and tried to send her a photo of my Sully, but when I went to find him on the Humane Society website, he was gone. What the what?! Momma suggested I call and ask if he was still available for adoption.

When I called to verify Sully’s availability the lady advised he had already been pre-adopted. I called Momma back with a heavy heart. “Sully’s gone,” I said. She asked if he had any brothers or sisters. He didn’t.

Why me? Oh, God, why meeee?


I quickly got off of the phone with Momma and called the Humane Society. A lady advised me Athena wouldn’t be ready for adoption until mid-April. “Perfect,” I said. “So, can I go ahead and apply and send you a check now?” Humane Society Lady told me to send in my application, they would review it, and if I was approved I would be notified. “Okay, great! Thank you so much!”

I took my time filling out the application. I was honest, and precise, and detailed. I even wrote in red pen because I thought it would be cute, you know, because she was born on Valentine’s Day. I had a co-worker friend stand in as my puppy application “wittness” and sign the bottom of my application. And then, I did the unthinkable… well here, I’ll just let you read it for yourself:

ATTN: Athena Adoption

Hi there!

My name is Miss Clariss and I have been searching for the perfect baby sister for my 6-year-old basset hound, Sonny.

  • sonny


I think Athena would be the perfect match for my lazy hound dog! When you get a moment or two, please take a look at our application and let us know if she would be a good fit for us.

Thank you for your consideration and we look forward to hearing from you soon!

MC and Sonny

Seriously, how much lower could I be? Pimpin’ my first born out for a second? Really?! I’m terrible! I’m unfit! I’m cruel! I’m friggin’ genius, man! I was convinced these fools were gonna eat this crap up. I mean, let’s get real here… look at that face, those paws, those ears, those eyes for the sake of baby Jesus! You would have to be totally heart, mind, and soul-less to turn this sweet little snack of angel juice down.

Yeah, well, as it turns out… that’s exactly what those assholes at the Humane Society are – heart, mind, and soul-less puppy peddling punks who turned me us down.

Not even 24-hours later I got this poorly written rejection letter:

Good Morning, we are in receipt of your application for one of the Maltese puppies. In reviewing your application, we will have to deny at this time for the following reasons: Your current dog, 6 years old, is not spayed/neutered. All our animals adopted to homes with current animals, one of our requirements is that those animals be spayed/neutered, unless there is a medical reasoning provided by your Vet. Also, you have stated on your application that you would leave her outside when you were working or not at home in general, and we require our dogs be indoors.  Thank you for your interest in our animals, and do hope you find the perfect playmate for Sonny.

First of all, I never said she would be left outside when I was “working or not at home in general.” What I said was, “She will stay in a fenced-in yard during the day only if it isn’t too cold/hot/wet. She will only be outside to use the bathroom, play, and when I’m not there (weather permitting).” Which is the truth. Would they rather me lie? Come to think of it, wouldn’t you think a dog would rather be outside during the better part of the day (weather permitting, of course)?

And secondly – if I’m reading this right – they withheld Luna (that was her new name… not dumb Athena) from me because I’m the cool mom and let my dog keep his balls? You’ve got to be kidding me. Sonny doesn’t even like girl dogs! He’s gay, g*&damn it! Yeah, that’s right! I said it. My baby is out and proud!

Damn that Bob Barker! Damn that wrinkly old man and his Price Is Right “Don’t forget, always spay and neuter your pets!” bullshit. I was so pissed. So ticked off that me, of all people, could get rejected for a puppy adoption.

Just what the hell kind of home do they think I’m running around here? Do they think I just let Sonny run buck-ass wild? Do they think I let him stay up roaming the neighborhood until the wee hours of the morning? Do they think I let him drink beer and watch too much TV? Obviously, they think he’s into sniffin’ down strange bitches and playin’ a little Hide tha Bone (if ya catch my drift). But seriously, WTF?


(ABOVE: What I imagine they imagine I let my free-ballin’, bitch callin’, street trottin’ houndy do all day. [Which couldn’t be further from the truth because he was deathly afraid of the tequila bottle during this little photo shoot. So obviously, he either has his mother’s taste in liquor, or he’s on the wagon. On the other hand, I couldn’t keep my makeshift ciggie outta the crazy bastard’s mouth… he must get that from his Daddy (cough, cough). {Also, how hilarious is it that he’s reading the Christina article titled, “I Worked Hard for This Body!”??! Sonny’s so sassy. So much sassier than I could have ever imagined.}])


I called Momma furious. “You see, that right there is exactly why people just buy from breeders. I should’ve just lied. But hell, those chucklef*&ks most likely do home visits. I mean, my Lord, I had to give references for shit’s sake. And I all but had to get the damn application notarized and send a DNA sample before they would even review my information.” Momma agreed the adoption process was redic. She commended me on trying to do something good but suggested I just stick to buying dogs the old-fashioned way… puppy mills.

Everything worked out though. After a couple of hours, I was okay with not getting Luna. I realized if I were to get another dog, I would want it to be similar in size to Sonny and something more of the same temperament. And then it occurred to me, “What the hell do I want another one for? The two of us are so happy with each other right now and I’m not so sure I even want to find the space in my heart for another nugget.”

I love Sonny like a child and he very much enjoys being an only one.

So I’s guess it’s best to not rock that boat anytime soon.


Anywho, I’ll leave you with this little slightly less related, yet equally hilarious, note…

A couple of days after Puppygate, Momma and I were doing a little shopping in town when we passed by a shelf full of baby socks. The sweetly designed socks were displayed in tiny clear boxes and couldn’t have been longer than my pinkie finger. “Aww,” we said, our ovaries getting the best of us. “Just look at these,” coo’ed Momma as she picked up a box of little girl socks designed to mimic ballet slippers. “They are so cute. I’m gonna get me some for my baby one day.” “You’re baby?” I probed. “Yeah, looks like we’re gonna have to adopt one.” “We’re. Uhh, you and Dad have something you need to tell us?” “Oh no, we’re, like you and I… ’cause it don’t look like it’s happin’ anytime soon.”

I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Ma. I literally just got rejected by the Humane Society. I highly doubt they’ll give me a person.”

We both busted out laughing.




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