Get out of this place.

When Butters aka Bones went back to his owner, we were a little sad. And then we were in a spot when the owner called and said Bones was tearing everything up because he wasn’t getting the exercise he needed, and she asked if we would like to just take him permanently. While it was tempting, it was also kind of impossible since we live in an apartment about the size of a…really small apartment. But we did what we could to help find him a new home—Facebook blasts, etc. It’d been a week or so and we were wondering what had become of our little Bones.

On my way through the Quarter to go get Kaia so she could watch Krewe of Barkus, I noticed a familiar face. Bones got admitted to an animal rescue in Kenner, and he’s now in foster care with a couple who have three other dogs and a yard for him to run around in. Revert to convincing Liz (and myself) that we absolutely cannot take this dog in 3…2…

New Orleans, Louisiana. 2.12.2012.

Butters has made himself quite at home around here. Although, Liz and I have taken to calling him Bones instead of Butters on account of him throwing his legbones into our backs while we sleep. Bones especially likes when I bring home a to-go box from the restaurant filled with leftover meat scraps. Or, if I come home from school with things…maybe a W-2 that he could chew up…doesn’t matter, Bones is happy. Dammit.

New Orleans, Louisiana. 1.25.2012.

Liz brought home a dog from the Internet that we’re dogsitting for a while. His name is Butters the whippet and Kaia doesn’t know what’s happening right now. I’m not entirely sure myself.

New Orleans, Louisiana. 1.14.2012.