If only we’d paid the extra hundred bucks and sprung for the puppy with a head!

Boss and I took a two-day road trip through the heartland to pick up a puppy in Wisconsin. Though the trip was way too long as far as I’m concerned, it was really a beautiful drive. Well, except for the blowout on the way there, and this on the way back. And yes, we bought cheese.

Lunch in the Boondocks, Iowa.

Meet Buffy the Coyote Slayer, age 8 1/2 weeks. Cute, huh?

Worth two in the bush. Just found her this morning, bopping around outside the barn.

They’re such good people.

Two days ago when I was out for a jog, a puppy followed me the whole way. She’s about 6 months old, a mutt, and cute as hell. Anyway, we put up posters yesterday at the local store to see if anyone claims her. Still not knowing if she has a good home or not, John (the big teddy bear) took her to the vet this morning for her wonky hip and banged up snout.

Think about that: At their own expense, this puppy is being taken care of, even though she may not wind up staying here at Argghhh! You can tell the character of people by the way they treat helpless animals. The Donovans surely have a place waiting in Heaven.

Update: Damn. Her name is Maggie (we’ve been calling her Piper), and she has a home. Bye baby. You were very sweet. Now, stay away from joggers!

Despite his badass winter sweater, my beloved Chihuahua is no hero. The killing of the coyote yesterday was something he just wasn’t suited to. I’ll let John tell the hilarious tale of Argghhh’s own Killing Fields.

We’re about to see who is made of what, this evening.

Suddenly Gunner pops upright, peering intently at the brush north of the barn - a site of several avian murders. Coming to full alert, he takes off like a flash.

Kiki stands up, her bloodhound nose aquiver.

Bug? Well, Bug… vibrates.

Suddenly wild yipping and barking breaks out from the grass where Gunner sped. Kiki lets out a classic hound-like howl and bounds off into the brush.

Bug vibrates.

May Dog forgive me.

Let me be clear: I think dog fighting is reprehensible, and that in a mob-justice system, Michael Vick would be disemboweled. But to my knowledge, last time I looked we didn’t have a vigilante justice system. And when it comes to the “beautiful people”, like rock stars, actors, socialites and sports icons, we barely have any type of justice at all.

Michael Vick endangered the lives of dogs - man’s best friend. We get all warm and squishy when we think of our childhood pal Fido or Rover (or in my case, Valentine). And our anger at a “monster” like Vick becomes palpable.

Vick has been suspended indefinitely from the Atlanta Falcons, disgraced. Dog lovers and animal rights groups would like to kill him. His co-defendants copped a plea, and he will now plead guilty himself. And he’d better hope the judge doesn’t have a dog.

Am I the only one who thinks this “kill Vick” mentality is a little overblown? Where were these activists and outraged do-gooders when Kobe Bryant was on trial for rape? Or when Mike Tyson was beating the snot out of Robin Givens or chewing on Hollyfield’s ear? Heck, Barry Bonds probably didn’t even know he was in the ballpark when he hit his history-making homer. What makes the pit bulls more important than a rape victim? Have we really sunk so low that we place the lives of dogs before the lives of humans?

I’m not saying - like some celebrities in past days have done - that Vick should get away with what he has done. I’m just suggesting that perhaps we should try to have a little perspective. We cry rivers of grief when gang-banging rappers are shot in the street - we never stop to ask what they did to deserve it. Why are we so quick to condemn Vick?

Cut the guy a little slack - he wasn’t a drug pusher, he didn’t rape or kill anyone. He hurt and killed some dogs. Disgusting and criminal? Yes. Worth all this misplaced fury? No way.