Titus Pullo here; I am filing my first report from the Casa del Whackos. Mom got the story half right, I AM a redneck dog, born and raised in a trailer park in southwest Little Rock, a true "09er", meaning from the zip code 72209. This area has been infamous for years as the home of rattle-canned pick-up trucks blaring "Freebird" from rattle-y Radio Shack cassette players, but recently been repopulated with the influx of…

Dad here; I know that many of you have been expecting a Titus background story, but I don't think you realize how this works; I was waiting on him to tell ME, and he wasn't talking. With a "CHARK" like Charlie's roaring constantly my ears, it takes a definitive voice that is so different from her's, like a Bull Taco or Max, to cut through the cacophony, and the voice of Titus was sounding suspiciously…

Idaho is a loooong state; we started south approximately twenty miles south of the Canadian border with no particular destination in mind but "down". But there is no down in Idaho, just back and forth, bouncing like a pinball between Washington and Montana as we made our way down to the Lolo Highway, the famous site of the motorcyclist's favorite road sign,"curvy road next 99 miles". Idaho is a meteorological phenomena, as the farther south…

This one goes out to the ones I love; this one goes out to the ones I left behind... Sleep apnea is a condition where your air intake is constricted when you sleep, and as a result, your organs, your lungs, brain, kidneys, but most importantly, your heart, never truly rest as your body fights for the oxygen that it needs to repair itself as you rest. Except you never really rest, and the downward…

O430, and all is well... I'm in my preferred spot, the navigator seat in the Minivan Gogh, and we're heading west. Dad is executing his usual duties as pilot, and has his bum stump firmly cocooned in some crazy looking contraption he calls "das boot". If you ask me, it makes him look like an upside down fiddler crab... We're heading back to Colorado on a whirlwind trip to pick up dad's DR650, but we…

Charlie here; daylight is softening around the edges, and dad has crippled out to the sanctuary of the van to hang out away from the madness that is the Casa. I think we all know how long THAT lasted, as mom opened the floodgate know as the front door, and there was a stampede to see who could be the first to inflict soft tissue damage on the old geezer. Seven goofy dogs, from the…

We have always striven to keep Charlie's page a refuge from the negative crap that permeates the interweb, but sometimes life intervenes. I have a brother from a different mother who is looking down the barrel of the gun we as pet parents must all eventually face: that last trip to the vet. Not to make this about me, but my experience is all I have to relate to. My first dog after mom and…