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…

Relax, or you’ll get the drizzles.

For years I've felt like there was something else "out there" just waiting to be discovered; prison ministry, Special Olympics, Trevor, Charlie Bravo, some big cause that would allow to go charging like Don Quixote towards a windmill. And those somethings have never failed to materialize, and have never went away, the stories even becoming interconnected to the point where I have difficulty determining where one storyline blurs into the next. While it's obvious that…

Synergy

Dad here; it was an awesome trip... 4000 miles in a 15 year old converted minivan across the southwest, no particular itinerary, with a goofy black dog for company. John Steinbeck said it best: "we don't take trips, trips take us", and this one was a perfect example. A million places, million thoughts, a million emotions, that will take some time for the mash to percolate in the still through the distilling process, then work…

Somewhere in the middle

Can we talk? When Charlie and I first met, I knew immediately that her story had "legs". After she began to find her voice and her message, I began to reach out to various local animal rescue organizations to offer our assistance in any way possible; fund raising, awareness, whatever capacity we could help out, we were in. Crickets; and the deafening silence has continued to this day. Over the last four years, we have…

Take the plunge

Happy Charlie Bravo Day from the Casa del Whackos! This morning we have a question from Jody, long-time supporter and Patreon contributor as well as creator of Sweet Rusty's dog treats: "Here's a thought: When you know in your head that you have to make a life-changing decision, but you're not sure in your heart if you can, what's the tipping point? Will the decision be right? Will you feel relief once it's made? Will…

Take care of your memories…

...for you cannot re-live them- Bob Dylan. Fresh sheets on the cot, and dad is buried deep under the quilts. He is showing no signs of rising any time soon, the only sign of life being an occasional kick or grunt as he chases a dream though an ethereal mountain pass. It's that magical time in the morning when the dawn has brightened to the point that one can just barely discern the difference between…

Hope riseth (slowly) in the morning

Dad here; 0600 and an icy, steady rain is falling at the Casa. The first order of the day is to shuffle down the hall like a portly Pied Piper, leading a procession of presumptuous popinjays towards their personal Porta-Potties. With that taken care of, it was time to face what could very well be an unpleasant sight in the kitchen, as things weren't looking too sparky for the old girl when we finally turned…

Roman’s 8:24

Dad here; I thought I was going to sneak out today for a little two wheeled therapy on the Salsa when I spotted a bit of white curled up in the leaves on the side of the road. She showed no sign of aggression as I approached, but neither did she make any advances when I stopped just short of touching her. It was obvious that she had recently had a litter of pups, but…
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