Dad here; Charlie is refusing to be rousted this morning, and Max and Mia for once are showing solidarity, so this one is mine... I was out riding last night, my usual urban assault around Little Rock, and the thought of many of my friends and relatives who, due to age, or circumstances, no longer have the freedom to zip about at will. It made think forward to a day when I will be as…

Approximately 0300 hours this morning, mom arose, purportedly to let Mia and I do our "bidness", but we somehow we instead found ourselves incarcerated in the north wing of the Casa del Whackos, i.e. the dog yard. This will NOT do: I have been waaaaay too diligent for waaaaay too long on my fight to establish my territory on the bed to allow a setback like this to occur, so I did what I had…

Worried about Hillary? Worried about Trump? How about the fact that we live in a world that can't provide any better candidates than there two cases of electile dysfunction? Worried about your job? Your health? Your offspring? Are your nights, and especially your early mornings, plagued by an endless parade of "what if" thoughts goose stepping endlessly through your mind? There IS better way, the Charlie Bravo way. Some would consider my lack of concern…

Dad here; Charlie's off gallivanting with Clyde, and not doing her usual Sunday AM diligence; I went to bed last night with nothing on my mind, but things worked as things usually do, and here we are. The back porch is awash with vicious hummingbirds, the only thing breaking up the onslaught is a tribe of goofy dogs occasionally stampeding across the porch. Some may wonder why the emphasis on the blog with the story…

Up! UP! scoot over! Get off! OFF! Really, Charlie? In the mouth? Down! Max, get your clingy self out of my face! Get back! Backbackbackbackback! Off the bed! Let's go outside, waitwaitwait, are you consciously trying to cave in my kneecaps? Sheesh... Mom:(mumbling)getthosedangdogsouttahereortheresgonnabetroubleitssaturdayforcryingoutloud... So this is how we found ourselves loaded up in Miss Ellie and headed for parts unknown; Charlie's ears popping in the pre-dawn breeze while I commandeered my usual spot on the…

Im not a fan of rap, but I am a fan of strut, and nobody struts their stuff like Kid Rock. As it says in 1 Charlie 1:1, "she that tooteth not her own horn getteth it not tooted"; the next verse reads "blessed are they which go around in circles, as they shall be called the big wheels". But what I really appreciate about the Detroit bad boy is under that preening, posturing exterior…