My Dog is My Co-Pirate!

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My Dog is Not My Child

My dog is officially my co-pirate. After spending the summer studying abroad, Bella became Bellz. She graduated and she’s not even two! She’s an overachiever.

I don’t know where she gets it. It wasn’t from me; I was a “C” student.

Congratulations, Bellz! You done good, girl!

I nearly dropped out of college, and not because I didn’t want to be there. I was told I was wasting my time, money, and other things, but I only flunked one class.

Kidding aside, she’s German and Germans make great dogs, and other good shit.

Leave it to Germany to engineer something better than people.

In Dog We Trust

Dogs have an unwavering commitment to loyalty and love. Imagine that you were born into a world filled with unconditional love, encouragement, compassion, and curiosity.

What if I told you that you were already born into that world?

It’s hard to believe, but what if it’s true?

What if you discovered that you were already born into that world?

See, what had happened was…I couldn’t see what I didn’t believe.

Seeing is believing, but I had to believe to see.

I saw, then believed, but I can’t believe my eyes!

I see you!

We have an uncanny ability to complicate the simplest things.

You’ve either figured it out or you haven’t. You will or you won’t. You do or you don’t.

That’s a joke. Not really. Seriously though, it is. Just kidding. What?

Polly Wanna Cracker?

Referring to dogs as children is automatic, like when someone says they’re “fine” when nobody asked how they were.

Think of it this way:

Americans tend to be parrots. Parrots sit on the shoulders of pirates. If Americans are parrots, then Americans are co-pirates. Being a co-pirate requires at least two pirates. If Americans have a dog, then Americans and dogs are co-pirates.

Any questions? Polly wanna cracker?

It’s basic logic, but Americans aren’t known for being logical. Ask any lawyer. They’ll tell you the truth.

Words Matter

If it pleases the court, I would like to submit evidence that pets are not children.

Nobody gives birth to their dog. Dogs aren’t a result of any sex you had. If you carry a dog for nine months, it’s in a purse.

Dogs happen on purpose. The decision to have a dog is exactly that; a decision. Having a kid requires sex and a choice.

People don’t usually update social media while walking out of an abortion clinic.

Dogs don’t have allergies. Nobody gives up a child because their dog has allergies.

Dog gone!

Dogs don’t hate you. Dogs do the darnedest things. They shit inside, piss on stuff, destroy something or make a mess. Kids talk.

A child will tell you they wish they were never born.

You can’t cage a child. Try that with a toddler. A crib is as close as you get.

Children can have children. Dogs get fixed. Fixed. What a strange word for never reproducing again.

Words Matter

Chaos & Piss

If we continue allowing pet owners to refer to their animals as children, where does it end?

Before you know it, parents will treat their kids like pets and allow them to shit outside. Animals will begin using restrooms, and we can’t even figure out which restroom people should use.

What the fuck? Maybe we should all shit outside.

Why not? We act like animals.

Final Thought

It’s acceptable to euthanize pets. People aren’t so lucky. If I’m ever in a situation where I’m unresponsive and I can’t, won’t, or forget to swallow pudding, I truly won’t mind a lethal dose of anesthesia.

Why not? We act like animals.

I rest my leather case.

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Have You Ever Felt Like a Baby Iguana?

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The Distraction I Needed, When I Needed it Most

It was my seventh week on St. John when I saw the baby iguana. He could have been born the day I arrived, but most likely after. One thing was clear; this little guy was new to the world.

Curiosity, when peaked, is a great feeling. Seeing something (or someone) new for the first time can be rousing.

At the time, I was sick, and had been for nearly a week. I vomited daily and slept like shit. All I thought about was how awful I felt.

My mindset became my mind trap.

That is, until: “Look! Shiny object!”

Right Place, Right Time

The iguana caught my eye as he ran across the outdoor deck. He was a green – a brilliant hue of green – unlike any iguana I’ve ever seen.

Instantly, nothing else mattered. My mind was entirely focused on the iguana.

He was moving fast! I didn’t expect to get close to him, much less get pictures. I thought for sure he’d be gone in a flash.

Lucky for me, he fucked up. Lucky for him, I’m not an asshole.

Welcome to the World Vivarium, Little One!

He couldn’t have known what was about to happen. Like fish jumping out of the water and and into a net – whatever he was chasing led him straight into a trap.

He was caught between two doors and could only see the world from behind a screen.

He was so busy looking one direction, he didn’t notice the solution was right behind him. All he had to do was turn around and walk away. Easier said than done, apparently.

Now Iguana Have Some Fun With You

He was easy to manipulate in such confined space. From inside the house, I made him look larger than life – as most people do, with themselves, from the comfort of their keyboards. But, he wasn’t a troll. He was more like Godzilla!

Help Those in Need

Never tell an iguana that he looks like Godzilla. I don’t know why, but he didn’t find it funny. Obviously, he was stuck in a rut and didn’t know what to do. On the inside, he wasn’t as bright. He lost the spunk he had when he first caught my eye.

He looked bored, anxious, and wanted to be free.

He had no friends on this side of the screen. There was nowhere to run on this side of the screen. His side of the screen had limits. He was held back on this side of the screen. Basically, he was trapped, alone, and unable to physically navigate his world. He could only watch everything happen, whatever it was, from his little space.

It was time for him to go.

I had to help this little guy out of his fresh hell and get back to life – without scaring or harming him. That meant, no hands near the iguana. He was frightened by hands.

I Know You Can Do It

The iguana wasn’t coming out of the space on his own so a friend and I tried to help. We detached the screen, then flipped it. He was no longer on the inside looking out; he was outside looking in.

Immediately, he looked brighter, healthier, and more hopeful than ever. He didn’t move. He just sat there, staring at the world over his shoulder.

Freedom’s Just Another Word for Nothing Left to Lose

Barriers are restricting and remind us of what we can potentially accomplish. That is, if you don’t succumb to a spiral.

It took time, but the iguana grew tired of sitting still and staring at a screen. Eventually, he looked away from the filtered world and hopped onto the deck.

He landed on his feet, stood still for a minute, and analyzed his situation.

Now on the deck, he could see the house, and wanted to get as far away as possible – as quickly as possible.

When freedom’s at risk, there’s no time to waste.

Iguana Break Free!

When the iguana turned around, my heart sank. There was nothing I could do as he launched himself off the porch.

The ground was 25-feet below deck.

The thing about the real world is this. Shit gets real. Sometimes, too real. Isolating yourself is one hell of a way to find out what that means.

The iguana had a rough morning that day, but don’t worry about him. I have good news.

He landed on his feet, stood still for a minute, and analyzed his situation.

He was free to explore his natural environment. Hell, he was free to do whatever his heart desired. With that, the iguana disappeared into the forest.

He Survived

I noticed I felt human again. I didn’t feel nauseous. In fact, I felt better than I had in days.

The Iguana Gave Me the Green Light

At that point, ~~his~~ my journey truly began.

I spent 21 more days on St. John – on my feet.

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I’m Glad I’m Not a Toilet

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I am really glad I’m not a toilet. Who knows where the hell I’d end up, how much shit I’d swallow, or how many diseases I’d host and pass without even knowing.

Kind of like life…

People line up to use toilets, often not caring about the crappy chaos and splatter piss. Toilets deal with shit and piss all the time! The only break (if you call it a break) a toilet might catch is a little cocaine, or a senseless argument over genitals, but, at the end of the day, a toilet is a toilet.

I’ve been mistaken for a toilet before and all I can say is, screw that!

Shitty Ass People

People can be awful a lot of the time. They do dipshit things to anyone, anywhere, anytime.

It boggles my mind when someone thinks they can do no wrong even after discreetly wrecking a marriage (or two) and (possibly) the heart of a child.

It’s especially rich when people change their convictions based on which way the wind blows. Abortion is the first word to comes to mind, but this is America so you know there are others – many others.

Left unchecked, bad traits (especially when involving money) can become dangerous – or criminal – habits.

Ever the optimist, I believe humanity will prevail, but we have to start prevailing. That means, grow up. It’s time.

Dream big!

This brings me to a dream I had last week. I have a tendency to forget my dreams. This time, however, the shit stuck.

What I love about dreams is they make no sense. It was one of those dreams within a dream within a dream.

This dream took place in a bar. Within the bar was a giant toilet. However, the bowl itself was somehow bigger than the planet.

Welcome to the shit show!

I don’t know how I ended up with a job at a local bar supporting toilets, but I was on plunger duty. You can imagine my face when way too many pieces of shit rolled through the door.

I knew I was in for a night to remember.

The influx of shit was due to a scrappy poster advertising an unrefined contest they could see from outside. The poster listed a vague prize. It was a simple word – treasure – all lowercase, written with glue and silver glitter.

The First Super Toilet Bowl

It sounded like something sponsored by the NFL. Toward the bottom of the poster was a scribbled guarantee; an opportunity to live the most fulfilled life and make a difference in the world for one winner.

How the shit coincidentally stumbled across this opportunity is anyone’s guess. Life doesn’t always make sense. But, we’re not here to talk about life. Today, we’re talking about shit.

The goal of the contest was to be the smallest piece of shit. You see, shit knows what it is so the strategies were lame. Rather than explain why they were the smallest, they focused on convincing the judge that the other pieces were bigger.

Blinded by slinging shit at each other, none of them noticed they were in a toilet bowl of global proportions. The judge watched as things got ugly fast. The water became cloudy and a warning light started to blink rapidly.

Shit was taking too long and the judge had to intervene. Tired of what he’d witnessed, he ripped a page right out of the Shitty Strategies playbook.

The word on the page was “loopholes” and that sounded close enough to “flush” for the judge.

The dirty water in the big bowl started swirling. All the shit suddenly started exposing how big each piece was! It stepped all over itself and got all smashed together and skidded up the sides. The shit was riding up each other’s backs and tried plugging the toilet with smaller pieces as it all started to break apart.

Silly shit!

Not one of the pieces of shit sacrificed themselves to save the others. None of the shit survived. In fact, none of them ever resurfaced. It was as if the bar never opened that night.

Thank god for more bars!

Nobody ever heard of that contest again. Nobody even wondered about a new venue. By design, the contest only appealed to shit to begin with and that’s the crux of the problem. It’s not a contest that can be advertised because it attracts the wrong contestants. As it stood, the contest that night was a once in a lifetime thing.

I woke up the first time

I remember waking up swimming laps in a cold toilet. Then I was enveloped in complete darkness. Suddenly I felt surrounded by pool toys all around. I started getting hit in the head with fresh crap while treading water as I yelled “SHIT!” over and over.

I woke up the second time

There was an envelope in my lap that said “Super Toilet Bowl Criteria for Winners” I opened it to find a torn piece of lined paper out of a miniature sized spiral notebook.

It read, “Sole winner? Are you joking? In this contest there are only losers. Pieces of shit will always lose. If you don’t want to lose, don’t be a piece of shit. Prize to be shared with all non-losers.”

In that moment, I realized the contest wasn’t over. Not yet, but it could be over at any moment and I didn’t want to be a piece of shit when it was done.

What nobody understood was everyone, everywhere was in the contest all along.

I woke up for the third and final time

My skin was clammy as my body was covered in a cold sweat and my ceiling fan was on high.

I was laying in bed and my pillow was soaking wet. My shirt looked like I just left a water balloon fight and jumped in bed. My sheets were drenched.

I was cold and uncomfortable and in the dark. But, at least I was safe.

In that moment, I realized a simple truth: Live your life, but don’t be a piece of shit!

God works in mysterious ways.

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I’m going to be an uncle!

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I’m about to be a first time uncle

My brother and his wife are expecting their first child in less than a month. It’s finally hit me – I’m going to be an uncle!

I realize I’m a little old for my first time, but I’m thrilled this is finally a thing. I’m just happy it’s uncle and not grandpa.

We’re pregnant

Last year, my brother called me with the news. It was great to hear, but I was more curious about his mother’s reaction. She’s going to be a first time grandma. I was more excited for her than anything.

Lord knows, she wasn’t getting one from me. When I came out, all the pressure I never felt to produce a grandchild landed squarely on his shoulders.

Finally, a Garrod boy is keeping the name alive! Everyone wins!

The best part of being a gay uncle

Nobody questions a gay man’s ability to be an uncle. In fact, some of the best uncles I know are gay. People just don’t want them to be parents. It’s a ridiculous mindset.

If I tell someone, “Hey, I’m gay and I’m going to be an uncle!” More than likely, they’ll say, “Congratulations!”

If I said, “Hey, I’m gay and I want to be a father!” There are people, even in my family, who would say gays shouldn’t be parents.

Parenting has nothing to do with sexuality and everything to do with ability.

I’m not saying I want to be a father and I’m not I suggesting being an uncle is even comparable to being a father. What I’m saying is this – you know that ‘feeling’ people get when being a parent is finally real? Yeah, gays get that too.

I’m not going to explain the various scenarios where I end up with child. Ultimately, if circumstances were such that I had a kid, I’d be a great father.

Just ask Bellz

What do you mean, Bellz? You get too much attention!

Bellz, you are so damn needy. This is how you end up in your crate! Ok, ok, ok, fine. Maybe I’m not ready to be a father.

Screw it! I’m going to be an uncle!

Since I’m going to be an uncle, I have to develop a few habits that haven’t otherwise stuck. For instance, I’ve dabbled in remembering birthdays, but I haven’t become addicted to sending cards. Even when Facebook reminds me of someone’s birthday, I rarely take action.

If I’m going to do this right, I better get used to buying stamps! I can’t even tell you the last time I bought Christmas cards. This year is going to be different. I’m going to let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Everything in moderation, right?

Note to self: Send newborn card and gift in April. Buy Christmas cards in November. Collect addresses sometime this year. Get your shit together. Baby steps.

It’s a start

Before baby Garrod has taken his/her first breath, he/she inspired a ripple effect a lot of people have already felt. It’s a beautiful thing.

Baby Garrod is the reason I dove into coloring. I was working on a set of nursery pictures as a gift for the family. Turns out, this cracked the beaver dam I mentioned in Seize all your days.

It’s a really cool feeling when an idea takes roots of its own and cultivates other ideas that eventually come full circle. Everyone can do it; the operative words being “do it”.

Speaking of “do it”, I suppose I should finish up the nursery gift. Baby Garrod will be here before I know it!

Nobody knows whether or not baby Garrod is a boy or a girl. I have this strong feeling a boy is on the way. We will know in less than a month! Regardless, I’m excited and I’m going to take my responsibility as an uncle seriously.

Uncle Travis’ oath

I promise I’ll come visit at the earliest, most appropriate time after you enter this world.

I promise to check in to see how you’re doing although you’ll have no conscious memory of these moments.

I promise you will know me even though we may never live in the same state.

I promise to nag your parents to take you on vacation to visit me at every appropriate opportunity, especially when you’re old enough to remember.

I promise to be there for you and your family during any time of need.

I promise you will always have a place to go.

Love,
Uncle Travis

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Did fetch happen?

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