The Charlie Bravo Story

My Story Begins Here…

Dad here. On a cold, raw day in January, my son Zach and I were making a high speed pass through a rural area east of Little Rock when we spotted a dog crate partially hidden in the weeds beside the road. Something – or Someone – made us stop and check the crate. What we found was beyond horrible... A full sized dog reduced to a ragged, scabby skeleton, smelling so strongly of death…

here they come!

Charlie here: Friday morning at the north sector of Casa del Whackos; the Jude Bear and I are on hummingbird patrol in an attempt to preserve what is left of our winter stores of sugar. And yes, the feathered little ingrates are back; not in the numbers that we anticipate towards the end of August, but definitely enough for us to realize that we're in for a rocky ride in a few weeks. All of…

Servant for life

Sunday morning at the Casa del Whackos; a recent cold front has knocked the outside temps down a mere couple of degrees. But if you judge the weather by the actions of the inmates, you would think that the second ice age is rapidly approaching. Ajax is wadded up beside my head, Marco is "down there", Titus and Charlie crammed up beside me so that I am in a state of claustrophobic semi - sarcophagus.…

consider the puppies

September 2005... Hurricane Katrina had just demolished the southern coast of the United States, and Rita was lining up off shore to finish the job her bitchy sister had started. The flood of refugees had impacted southern Arkansas, bringing with it not only the unfortunate souls displaced by the flooding, but also the predatory gang members looking to expand their territories north from New Orleans. These parasitical bottom feeders started a cycle of mayhem that…

The Virus

Dad here; as most of you know, this page was started six years ago as a respite from all the constant negativity everywhere on social media. Charlie and I have averaged three posts a week during those six years, and somehow the words just keep coming, but somehow that has recently changed. We haven't been able to formulate a post for the last two weeks. Here's how it goes: we wake up in the morning…

The Benefits of Corona and Racial Strife.

I hate labels. A label attempts to tell people what you are, but usually tends to stress what you are not. Black, white, conservative, liberal, Harley, Honda, purebreds, rescues maskers, anti-maskers, all labels that people use to define themselves, not realizing that such definition paints them into a crate in the eyes of others. Labels don't unite, they divide. If people knew what I believed on certain issues, they would label me as a conservative…

The Story of Toby

Yes, this is my house. Yes, this is my bed. No, this is not my dog. This is the neighbor's dog Tobiads Maximus, otherwise known as Toby. He thinks that he lives here now, and we're kind of adjusting to routinely be invaded by a scruffy little knucklehead. We have tried to remain steadfast in our defenses of the motherland, but he has this habit of proclaiming his joy by prancing around on his hind…

Pater familius

“A father acts on behalf of his children by working, providing, intervening, struggling, and suffering for them. In so doing, he really stands in their place. He is not an isolated individual, but incorporates the selves of several people in his own self." Happy Father's Day! Or am I even allowed to say that in this age of "toxic masculinity"? Or how do I say it when I no longer have a father, grandfather, on…
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