Puppies labrador for sale in broward

Hello everyone I have one week old Aussiedoodle (50% Aussie and 13% golden retriever and 37% poodle and I am now starting to search for the forever home. Please reach out if interested! Below is the link to my Facebook for pictures!
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/rmYeWBbxG8jvgMsb/?mibextid=WC7FNe

Hi everyone,
I know there are lots of posts about this but I'd appreciate advice, especially (but not only!) from readers in the UK. I'm getting my first puppy at the end of this month. He's a LabradoCocker mix, and will be just under nine weeks old when I collect him. I won't get to see him before I pick him up, but I do trust the breeder. I'm sending a blanket to go in with mum, I've registered with a vet, and his first jabs are booked for the Monday after I pick him up on the Saturday. He's going back to the breeders for W12 as I have to teach a summer school and wanted him somewhere safe and familiar.
What do I need to buy, and what should I make sure that I do, for those first few weeks? Advice particularly on how to get him home (it's a three/four hour drive and I'm alone) and what he needs in terms of routine and socialisation. I am lucky that my job usually lets me be mostly at home over the summer so I don't have to worry too much about being away from him till he's a bit older.
Thank you!

So background: I started a business in pest control last last year. Using dogs to kill vermin - hoping to achieve a pesticide free, green way to control a problem as my province banned chemical control agents for things like rats and mice two years ago for most folks (except essential services like farming and Healthcare, but even a lot of those are trying to move away from using poison). I bought two terriers, got licensing and insurance, all of it. I've been training with the puppies, who are now 10 and 11 months, and while we haven't made any money yet, we have all learned a lot and I am hopeful we'll have a good first season this year.
Enter best friend. Her and her husband applied for a loan to build a carriage home. They needed 200k and they received 201k. This was months ago - the home is about 80% complete and will be ready for occupancy soon. We have been joking that the Lord (we are religious - her family moreso than mine, but grew up in the faith together) has a sense of humor to give them just a thousand dollars more than the exact amount they needed.
I got an email tonight saying she had transferred the $1k to me, with a message from her stating that she and hubby believe that money was actually meant for me, for my business. I'm not taking it, because all I really need to buy for the rest of the year is dog food, gas, and dewormer and I can afford that on my salary from my day job, while they have a whole carriage home to do the last finishes on and I know that things like lighting, cupboard handles etc for an entire house don't come cheap even if found on sale or whatever.
That said, I just feel so freaking blessed to have a friend like her who supports my endeavors. She was instrumental in making me believe I could even do this in the first place, and she's always asking how the dogs are or how many mice we've caught lately or giving me contacts of people who have rodent problems. And now this. She needs that money way more than I do right now and she's just so willing to give it to me because she believes in me. I've been feeling very overwhelmed with trying to raise dogs and build a business while working full time, and she was just like hey, you deserve this and I think you're meant to have it.
That support means more than all the money in the world and I know I'm blessed and lucky to have it.
That is all. I just needed to tell the world about my beautiful, amazing bestie.

TLDR; Grew up interacting with field line labs as a kid, never owned one, only dog I owned was a small rescue mutt. Realized I absolutely love the process of daily dog training and enjoy the benefits of progress. Near dead set on a show line Labrador and am looking for reasons to not get a lab to make sure I’m well aware of what I’m getting into. I also plan on attending multiple dog shows so I can speak with breeders and interact with their dogs in person.
Edit: Forgot to add that I have a cat that grew up with a small dog. She has a lot of vertical space that a lab should not be able to get to unless they can jump 8ft… but a dog that can be trusted with a cat if raised and trained around one is a must.
I’m thinking of getting a show line Labrador since I don’t think I’ll be able to handle the field line energy.
My uncle had two beautiful field line labs. One silky smooth black and the other a bold red. Clearly he put in a lot of work into them. All he had to do was give a quick sharp whistle and they’d be hyper focused on him. Maybe he shouldn’t have, but he’d walk them off leash all the time even when not in the field.
I know interacting with the breed often is not the same as living with them and having to train them.
Uncle says they were a breeze to train, but he grew up with hunters and farmers that had mostly field line labs and pointers. I’m assuming he’s just used to it. (And I’m sure working a dog in the environment they were bred for helps a lot.)
I’m also very inexperienced with big dogs. I grew up with a dog reactive rescue mutt. Loved her to death, loved all of the hours I put in every day to train her, and we got to a point where I no longer had to worry how she’d react to a dog or person passing by. She was mostly praise motivated which was a little difficult for me to figure out, but once I did it was whatever for me.
She would automatically heel unless given the release command, down on a dime, amazing off leash skills, completely neutral to other dogs and people and knew she could run to me for protection, and overall a pleasure to learn dog training with.
Because of the joy I felt training her, and the routine of daily training and excursions, I’d like to try another dog and people always say a lab or golden is one of the best beginner dogs.
Since it’ll be my first big dog I thought it would be best to get a beginner dog. Would you guys agree that labs are a good first big dog?
Is it true that food motivated dogs are easier to work with than praise motivated dogs?
I’ve seen a lot of comments about how you shouldn’t feed big breed food when they’re puppies? Is this true or is this only applicable to XL breeds like mastiffs?
I’m basically honed in on the lab breed and I understand I may be tunnel visioned(?) which is why I’m asking for reasons not to get a lab. (BTW, I plan on speaking with breeders about their dogs so I can get their opinions and if they think I’d be a good fit for a lab.)
So, what would be a reason to not get a (show line) lab?
Thanks in advance!

As the title states, I'm looking for an apartment willing to work with a previous eviction I have on my record from 2 years ago. I have been living in my apartment in Chattanooga for the last two years but my roommate is moving away and I can't afford the rent by myself. I'm looking for a one bedroom under $1300 and is pet friendly. I have a Labrador puppy that's 40 lbs currently. I'm looking to move in by July 5th. I also have a guarantor who has pretty good credit (700). Any leads are helpful thank you!

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV
“We should run, Benny,” I said. “It would be easy.”
As the crowd of possessed people flowed forwards, I looked into the eyes of my year-old golden Labrador — eyes weathered by the longest twelve months of our lives. I tried to spare Benny from the hardships of my life. However, whenever I left him with Fernsby, he was inconsolable. Only being by my side seemed to steady his restless, fragile disposition.
The Labrador bared his canines. White, drooling tips encrusted with cobalt. Given that he was so determined to cling to me, no matter the dangers I faced, I had to give him the tools to defend himself.
We faced a mountainous being, built of dirt and bedrock, at the edge of an empty town. A creature that had transfixed the townsfolk — leading them into the pit of its cavernous mouth. A cataclysmic horror unfit for human eyes. Though mine, burdened with the sight of the Oath, seemed uninfluenced by the terror.
A long road led me to that haunted town.
On the night of Evie's death, I was lost. Unsure what to do or where to go. I looked at the corpse of the police officer. The last guard of Earth. Not anymore, I reminded myself. And that was what sparked the idea to visit Whitlock’s house.
Arthur lived in a terraced build that, despite being surrounded by neighbouring homes, felt unbearably isolated. When I rang the doorbell, I half-expected and half-prayed that nobody would answer.
“Hello?” Fernsby said, opening the door. “Oh, Kane! Lovely to see you.”
I looked at the ground weakly. “May I come in?”
I had no other options. I didn’t have the stomach to sleep in my farmhouse’s bed — not in a room which had seen so much death and suffering on that same night. I didn’t even want to sleep in the same house.
I delivered the bad news about Arthur and Evie. Fernsby cried for an hour. I sat in silence, allowing Benny to console the lady with tentative licks on the back of her hand. I wish I’d been of more comfort, but I wasn’t present. Fernsby was heartbroken too, of course, but she was stronger than me.
The woman insisted that Benny and I sleep there. I only intended to stay for a night, but she wouldn’t let us leave. She was worried about me. Weeks passed. Then months. The kind lady reminded me of my mother, who died when I was only a boy.
Fernsby didn’t take no for an answer — she persuaded me to stay indefinitely, realising that I was in no fit emotional state to care for myself or Benny. Moreover, the wise woman had much to teach me about the ways of the Guard. She did not have a splintered soul, but she’d been the daughter of splintered parents.
“Gerald Fernsby,” The woman said, pointing at a faded, sepia-toned photograph on the mantelpiece. “That was my father. He found Arthur in an orphanage. Adopted him. Saw his splintered soul. Years later, Gerald met my splintered mother, Lucinda, and they had me. There were more guards in those days…”
My eyes widened. “Arthur was your brother?”
The woman nodded. “He was already seventeen when I was born — on the cusp of joining the Guard. I didn’t envy him, of course. As I grew older and saw the toll it took on my family, I tried to talk Arthur out of that life, but he was just as stubborn as a boy.”
I smiled. “Sounds about right.”
“He loved Dad. He wanted to prove something to him. Lucinda and Gerald were the last of their kind. They feared for the future, knowing that Arthur was all Earth would have left. And now…” Fernsby sighed. “It’s just you.”
“May I ask your name?” I asked. “Your first name, I mean.”
The woman gazed at her lap, eyes tearful. “I share my mother’s name. Lucinda. I… I told my brother to stop calling me that after she passed. I go by Fernsby. I wear the family name with pride.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
After nearly a year of living in the main town with Fernsby, I thought the pain in my chest might begin to loosen. It didn’t. Still, I managed to pull myself out of bed, on occasion. Benny was a source of motivation, and I was becoming close to the lady who cared for us. She didn’t just assume a motherly role — she became my mother.
“We could stay here forever,” Fernsby said. “But darkness is spreading, Kane. And, with every day that you hide in this house, it worsens.”
“I need to find splintered souls,” I replied, nodding.
The woman scratched her neck uncomfortably. “You need to accept that you may never find anyone to replace you. Arthur searched for years. We travelled far and wide. And we eventually settled on this small rock. He was growing old. Too old to travel. We were far from so many of the world’s horrors, but… Well, as you saw, darkness reaches all places.”
“Then why fight?” I asked. “If I were truly the last guard, then I’d only be buying time for reality’s eventual descent into darkness. One day, I will die, after all. Why delay the end?”
“We’re all just buying time, Kane,” Fernsby replied.
I shook my head. “No. I accepted this burden on the condition that I would find a way to become unburdened. That was the promise I made to myself. Once I’ve done that, I’ll hang up my hat.”
“And what becomes of you?” Fernsby asked. “You often speak of ‘joining Evie’, but I don’t like it when you talk that way. All life is precious.”
I ignored her remark. “I’ll return to the mainland and follow the clouds of the black realm. Will you join me, Fernsby? I don’t have the strength to do it alone.”
“You do,” She said. “All splintered souls do.”
I sighed. “Well, I don’t have the wisdom. I don’t know how to find others like me. You know so much more about the Guard.”
“I won’t deny that…” The woman smiled, pausing for a second. “Okay, Kane Foster. As I did with my brother, I will travel the Earth again. Just know that you have not faced the greatest horrors of the black realm… or even the greatest horrors of our world. After all, monsters and men overlap.”
“I’m ready, Fernsby,” I said. “I trust the sight. It reveals the blackness.”
“But you cannot see what’s within it,” She coldly whispered.
We packed our meagre belongings and left the tiny isle behind. The locals were sad to see us go, but they didn’t know the full truth of what happened to Arthur Whitlock and Evie Foster. Wolves tore the officer to shreds, and Evie went missing. That was the official story.
How should I explain the sight that the Oath of the Guard gifted? Well, when I look at the world, I see a sky marred by muddy splotches of red, throbbing clouds. They ink the atmosphere, sprouting in all directions. Hundreds of rips in reality. Indicators of entry points from the black realm. Too many to count. Too many to fight.
I still, to this day, never know what horrors await.
The year was 2017, and we were back on the familiar soil of the mainland. It had been a year since Whitlock knighted me. During those months, I felt the red storm-clouds grow in severity and span, but my deep depression rendered me unable to move a muscle. The world had long been falling into ruin, but the process was quickening without a protector.
“Why are we here?” Fernsby asked.
I had driven to a small town on the north-west coast. One of those woeful waypoints between places of interest — a town that most would miss on a map. And that is, of course, exactly the kind of place which attracts evil. A hidden corner of reality.
“You tell me,” I said. “I followed the cloud, but I don’t know what we’re going to find. Does any of this look familiar to you?”
“The town? No,” Fernsby shook her head. “The situation? Well, perhaps.”
“Situation?” I asked.
“Look a little more closely,” The woman replied.
And when I did, fear squeezed my abdomen like a tightening belt.
The town was deserted. Completely devoid of life. And a single flicker of movement turned out to be nothing more than a lone crisp packet, riding the coattails of a gusty breeze.
“Where is everybody?” I asked, driving slowly through the town.
“I don’t know, but…” Fernsby suddenly paused. “Kane. Drive.”
“What?” I asked.
“Find somewhere for us to get off the street!” My friend urged.
Wondering what she’d seen, I did as she asked and sharply veered into the car park of a nearby supermarket. Fernsby immediately threw the passenger door open, and I watched in confusion. Nonetheless, following her lead, Benny and I hopped out of the Ford Ranger. I ruffled my canine companion’s hairy coat and placed a finger on my lips. The most valuable trick I’d taught the year-old puppy was to be quiet — a safety net for direful situations.
“This way,” Fernsby urged, scurrying towards the supermarket’s front awning.
“What is it?” I asked, following quickly.
She placed a finger to her lips. “Talk at a low volume. We don’t want them to hear us…”
“Just tell me what’s happening,” I said, hiding behind the supermarket trolleys.
Fernsby peeked over the top of the carts. “Arthur and I saw this in a Romanian village. Like you, he was drawn to a village of people who vanished overnight. And, much like this place, we found dreadful things… Look up, Kane. Look at the mountain.”
“Mountain?” I replied.
I peered over the trolleys to face the hillside. Upon closer inspection, I realised it was more than a hill. A foreboding mound of the Earth’s crust rose three-thousand feet tall. A monumental spectacle formed not from tectonic plates, but from the blackened bowels of some nightmarish underworld. The black realm. And the unnatural formation bore an inexplicable black entrance in its front face. A doorway which spanned hundreds of feet. It shifted and swirled. A living doorway into the mountain.
“What is that?” I gasped.
“Near Brasov, during a harsh winter, we saw a mountain just like it. An impossible structure with a moving entrance. Arthur called it the gate to Hell, but it was worse than a mere gateway. The mountain was alive, Kane,” Fernsby whispered. “And it swallowed the townsfolk.”
“The cave… ate them?” I asked.
“We don’t know what happened to those who entered it,” Fernsby said. “We saved them, but they remembered nothing. This time, however, I fear we may be too late…”
I removed my weapon from its holster. “Let’s take the car.”
Fernsby held out an arm to brace me, and she softly shook her head. “The mountain can see things. We’ll travel on foot, and we’ll stick to the shadows. It could be watching.”
“Watching?” I asked. “How?”
“You’ll never get answers from the black realm, Kane,” Fernsby said. “Only more questions.”
Fernsby, Benny, and I stealthily slipped through the town, gliding between buildings and abandoned vehicles. As we neared the outskirts of town, the tall trees of the forest obscured the unnatural elevation with a gaping mouth. I felt uneasy about the mountain slipping out of sight, but I kept my eyes on the red cloud above.
When we turned onto the road leading towards the hulking apparition, Benny began to growl. Night was approaching, and street-lights were flickering to life. The Labrador didn’t like the dark, so Fernsby and I thought nothing of it. But as his growling intensified, a sickness started to fill my belly. My instincts were kicking into gear.
A hobbling man emerged. Other than the aggressive sounds of an ignored dog, there was no warning of his arrival.
I abruptly held up a fist to halt Fernsby and Benny.
The dog stopped whining as a shadowy figure walked into the darkened street. Night cloaked our location, but it did not cloak the man as he stepped into the glow of a street-lamp. He had the bloody, wounded eyes of a man who had looked upon a horror worth forgetting. And his lips stretched to the edges of his face — wider than humanly possible. Within his mouth, we saw a swirling mess. A white sphere with a red pinprick.
“An eye…” I mumbled, horrified beyond words.
I pushed Fernsby to the side, and Benny followed. We crouched behind a hedge and peered over the top. Heart throbbing at the surface of my throat.
The zombified man hobbled slowly past — his lips ever parted, like fleshy eyelids for the watchful pupil of the mountain. The enormous eyeball rolled listlessly around the man’s mouth, scanning the area for signs of life. Hunting anyone it had missed.
Eventually, the mountain’s slave wandered away, twitching as he vanished into the town.
“Did you see things like that in Brasov?” I asked.
“That’s a story for another time…” Fernsby shuddered. “Let’s move quickly. Whether we can save the townsfolk or not, we must rid this place of the mountain before its influence spreads.”
I nodded, and we followed the road out of town. It passed through a dense passageway of trees, leading towards the mountainous hill a mile up the road. Fernsby was a relatively fit and healthy woman in her fifties, but I sensed that she was struggling. A lifetime of trials had weathered her.
“Should we stop?” I asked, as Benny eventually slowed for us to catch up.
“I’m fine,” Fernsby wheezed. “Let’s…”
The woman froze, and I stopped walking. She was eyeing the mountain ahead. And when I followed her line of sight, I saw a distant crowd of people disappearing into its blackened doorway.
“Yes…” She whispered, answering an unheard voice.
Fernsby lurched forwards, and her walk was just as stilted as the hobbling man in the town. She had been claimed by the mountain.
“No!” I yelled, wrapping my arms around her.
My friend did not wrestle or fuss. She merely pushed against my arms, ever moving towards the abyss in the mountain. Benny was whining meekly, nervously watching the struggle between his two friends.
“Don’t make me do this, Fernsby…” I groaned, releasing my arms.
As the released woman freely walked towards the mountain, I swung the butt of my handgun at the crown of her head. She tumbled to the ground.
Benny whined again, uncertainly, but he did not protest as I dragged our unconscious friend to the side of the road. I rummaged in my backpack, found the climbing rope that Fernsby had wisely packed, and used it to bind her to a sturdy tree.
“I’m sorry,” I panted, checking my knots. “It’s for your own good.”
Benny and I continued alone, joining the rear of the crowd. My gut told me that the answer lay inside the monster’s mouth. I prayed for that to be a true insight of my splintered mind, and not misplaced or influenced instincts. Still, as darkness enveloped us, I accepted that there was no turning back. We became one with the mountain.
Benny moaned softly, and I bent over to stroke his head.
“It’s okay, boy,” I soothed.
“He sees you,” A voice whispered.
I shot my head around. The whisper came from a woman beside me. An unseeing woman with eyes not bloody, like the man in town, but closed. Everybody in the crowd was walking blindly ahead.
“He sees you,” Another voice hissed.
Overlapping voices chanted the same line repeatedly, engulfing us in an oppressive wall of sound. Benny growled viciously, and I removed the safety on my weapon.
And then a light emerged, silencing the crowd. A faint, grey, muted light. It danced like an unearthly flame in the clearing before the hundreds of people. Fire born of blackness, but somehow lighting the cavern.
“I see you.”
The final voice whispered within my skull.
I spun around to find myself abandoned. No crowd. No Benny. Alone in a carnivorous cave with a raging, grey fire. And, in the midst of the flames, there loomed a pumping organ. A singular living mound of grey matter, sinking into the dirt. It looked to me like a heart. Whatever the case, I knew one thing.
It was the lifeblood of the beastly mountain.
“What are you?” I asked.
“Your death, Guard,” The voice hatefully replied.
A hidden force hurled me onto my stomach, and Whitlock’s handgun escaped my grip. Seizing the opportunity, stony hands emerged from the floor of the living cavern. The urgent appendages clutched at the weapon, fingers curling around its metalwork. The mountain was quick. Determined. Desperate to leave me defenceless.
I lunged for the firearm, wrestling with the demonic hands — hands which started to pull me down too. I knew I would die without the weapon. I knew countless other people would die. And I thought of Evie. Thought of what she’d want. I even assured myself, in a moment of madness — perhaps a brief flash of my life before my eyes — that I’d seen Evie in the grey fire.
Renewed courage surging through my body, I snatched the firearm from the monstrous limbs and pulled myself to my feet. Loaded handgun hanging limply by my side, I eyed the abomination. The horror that devoured me. My mind returned to that bloody, sand-swept village in Nigeria.
I was a soldier, and I didn’t think. I fired.
The cobalt bullet punctured the flesh of the creature’s vital organ, and the grey cavern — the mountain’s belly — shifted in agony, unleashing an almighty bellow. A death cry.
A waterfall of darkness smothered me, draining the air from my lungs and plunging my body into an endless absence.
The early morning sun warmed my skin. When I woke, I was lying in the back of my Ford Ranger, wrapped in a blanket beside an eager Benny. Upon my stirring, the joyous boy licked my face, and I chuckled.
“You did it,” Fernsby said, legs dangling off the back of the Ranger.
I shot upright, and I was shocked to find that we were still in the supermarket car park — a busy car park. People were passing by, disapprovingly eyeing the man sleeping in his car. The town was brimming with life, as if there had been no evening of unimaginable terror. Life continued.
I cleared my throat. “Fernsby? I tied you to a–”
“– When the mountain released us, I made quick work of untying your knots,” She quickly interrupted. “Military standard work, Kane. Impressive. But Arthur and I faced many dangerous situations over the years. You don’t live through such things without picking up some skills.”
“Right…” I started, massaging my throbbing head. “Well, how did I get here?”
“I asked a couple of townsfolk to help carry you. Told them you were my drunk son. You were lying in the grass at the foot of the mountain,” She said, nodding to the landscape beside us.
When I looked over the edge of the truck, I saw a rolling hill, barely a few hundred feet in height. No longer a mountain at all. It was a tenth of the size. And there was no sign of the monstrosity that had plagued the town the night before. The red cloud had vanished. I felt lighter, somehow. A tremendous weight had been lifted.
“We need to leave,” Fernsby suddenly barked, bouncing onto the car park.
A convoy of white vehicles was heading down the main road.
“They’re here.”
Part III
dominiceagle

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV
I am the last guard of Earth.
When the sun sets on me, it’ll set on you.
I was told that, an age ago, there were thousands of us. Protectors scattered across the world, forever casting horrors back to the black realm. For darkness can never truly be killed. Only ever kept at bay.
Fernsby often talked of a time before recorded history. Early humans were shielded by their knowledge of forces beyond our world. Gifted men and women practised spiritual arts. They formed the Guard. An order founded on the basis of standing against the darkness which had long consumed the Earth.
For millennia, the Guard brought life into the light. We no longer bent to the whims of horrid beings from the hungry world adjacent to ours.
However, as is nature’s way, prosperity invited growth. Humans multiplied. People spread to even farther corners of the Earth, and the threads which bound all tribes started to thin. Many people failed to teach their descendents of the Guard. They forgot about the spiritual world. The black realm became nothing but a ghost story.
And then it became nothing at all.
Over the following centuries, the once-mighty order of Earth’s guards shrank from thousands to hundreds. From hundreds to dozens. Men instead waged wars under the banners of individuals, and they abandoned the one true war against the darkness.
By the twenty-first century, only Whitlock remained. The man who gave me this gift — this curse. After he was gone, Fernsby spun fresh fables of the Guard for my yearning ears, but I still felt alone. She was devoted to the order, but she was not splintered.
I know I must start from the beginning, but that feels like dreaming of an alternate self.
Eight years ago, Evie and I moved to an island off the coast of England. Newly married and driven by naivety.
We docked at a humble wooden pier, which was held together by rotten beams and misplaced faith. With a youthful spring in my step, I dropped onto the makeshift dock and ignored the disapproving groan of its ancient planks. And then I delicately lifted my wife over the edge of the small ferry, softly pecking her lips as we embraced.
“This feels like home,” She softly said.
I smiled. “It does. We belong here.”
There was an elderly man at the end of the modest pier. He wore a well-ironed police uniform and an unpractised smile — beaming from a face that hadn’t known joy for a long time. But I thought little of his sullen expression. Evie and I were surprised to see anybody waiting for us. We hadn’t expected a welcoming party — even a party of one.
“I’m Chief Constable Arthur Whitlock. Kane Foster?” The man broadly asked, extending a calloused hand.
I nodded, shaking it. “Yes, that’s me. It’s lovely to meet you, Arthur. This is my wife, Evie.”
“Pleasure to meet you both,” The man said, eyeing me strangely. “Welcome to the island.”
It was a nondescript isle in the North Sea. At first glance, no more than a sleepy haven. I was an unobservant boy. My eyesight has worsened over the years, but I see so much more clearly. I’m thirty-six, and I feel twice that age. On the day of my arrival, however, I was young. Mind boundlessly optimistic. Face fresher than the stiff boots on my feet.
“Look at this place, Kane!” Evie gasped.
Whitlock kindly drove us to our new home, and we admired the island from the passenger windows. The main town was quintessentially British, in a modern sense — rows of branded shopfronts and supermarkets desperately tried to tie the forgotten isle to the twenty-first century. I didn’t care about any of that. It was the isolated setting of the idyllic place which set it apart from the mainland. It would be Evie and me. Nobody and nothing else. That was all we wanted.
Our mouths hung loosely as our household appeared on the horizon. We’d seen pictures, of course, but no photo did it justice. The eyes of young lovers may have romanticised the view, of course, but the building was a spectacle. A striking three-storey farmhouse at the outer rim of town. And it belonged to us. Neighbouring farmlands bordered the property on all four sides, but we had abundant space. For the first time in years, I would actually be able to breathe.
“So, the farming life beckoned you?” Whitlock asked.
“Aye,” I said.
“You’ve chosen a rough season to start,” The man replied.
I shrugged, cheerily eyeing Evie. “It’ll be a challenge, but we’ve been through worse. Not that Evie ever shies away from hardship. This one thrives with her back against the wall.”
“So do you,” My wife whispered, chuckling as she suggestively raised an eyebrow.
I stifled laughter, but Whitlock either missed or ignored the comment.
“Are you prepared?” The police officer asked. “I’ve lived here for fifteen years. Don’t let appearances deceive you. Island life is not like country life. It’s brutal. Unrelenting. This isle is no more than a glorified ship. We’re stranded at sea, fending for ourselves.”
I nodded politely, believing Whitlock to be needlessly theatrical.
“We’ve been through tougher things,” I repeated.
“I don’t doubt it, corporal,” Whitlock replied.
My stomach tensed, and Evie’s fingers clenched mine. Whitlock briefly glimpsed me in the rear-view mirror, before returning his eyes to the road ahead.
“Sorry, Mr Foster. It’s my duty to vet newcomers. I protect every last person on this island,” He explained.
I shifted my eyes downwards. “I understand, but I’m no corporal anymore. I’d rather forget those days.”
“Which regiment?” Whitlock pressed, lacking any semblance of social etiquette.
I sighed. “The Duke of Lancaster.”
“And why did you leave?” He asked.
“Listen, we really appreciate the warm welcome, sir,” Evie interjected. “But Kane doesn’t like talking about that part of his life. It was an obligation forced upon him. He never really wanted to be a soldier.”
“Only fools do, Mrs Foster,” The man whispered.
Whitlock rolled the car to a stop at the entrance to our farmhouse. Expressing uncomfortable gratitude, Evie and I hurriedly collected our belongings. I waited until the police cruiser was halfway down the dirt track to speak.
“What an idiot,” I muttered.
Evie smiled, rubbing my back. “It’s over now, honey. You’ll only have to see him… well, every single time you leave the house, knowing what small-town officers are like.”
“Huh. Good point. We shouldn’t ever leave the house then,” I grinned, lifting my giggling wife off the porch and carrying her across the threshold.
We had nothing to our name but four walls and a roof. Years of savings had been poured into that fresh start. After enduring the horror of serving my country, farming provided an opportunity to find peace.
War, however, always seems to find me.
The first year on the island was a struggle, but we quickly learnt the ropes of farming. The following year, our crop yield improved, as did our standing in the community. Even Whitlock, over time, became more of a bemusing grandfatherly figure than a grouchy recluse. I found our new existence a little strange at first, but I quickly adjusted — quickly switched off. And Evie could teach Geography anywhere, so she was more than happy. If I could’ve lived that life until my dying day, I would’ve been buried with a smile.
That life — the only real life I’ve ever lived — lasted for two years. Two cruelly brief years.
On an evening of belligerent rain and thunder, I pulled into Jerry’s petrol station. A rest-stop that bridged the gap between the main town and our farmhouse. Usually, the jolly owner would emerge from his shop to greet me. On this fearsome night, he did not appear, but I didn't blame him — the weather was vile. Still, I did find it a little peculiar to see a brightly-lit shop area with an unattended till. Though he received little custom, Jerry practically lived behind the counter.
He must be taking a break, I decided.
As I fiddled with the petrol pump, rain soaked my clothes and chilled my flesh. Even the canopy for the station’s pumps didn’t shield me from the near-horizontal downpour. Once my car’s tank was full, I repeatedly tapped the drenched self-checkout touchscreen. It didn’t register my finger. Every time I dried the screen with my jacket’s sleeve, a fresh curtain of water coated it seconds later.
“Come on,” I huffed.
A sudden crash sounded.
Jolting backwards fearfully, my credit card flew from my hand, landing in a puddle. Once I’d overcome the initial shock, I was surprised that I’d heard anything over the booming weather. Curious, I peered around the petrol pump, and I saw that the store’s power was out.
“Jerry?” I called.
My voice was drowned by a pistol-whip of thunder. Something about the lightless shop filled me with unease. I wish I’d driven home, grabbed Evie, and fled to the mainland. Foolishly, however, I crept towards the shopfront — propelled by a wilful breeze. The canopy’s fluorescent lights cast enough light for me to distinguish a faint outline in one of the aisles. A man was kneeling on the floor, hunching over something. And when I reached the automatic double doors, I was surprised to find that they opened.
It can't be a power cut, I realised.
“Jerry?” I called again.
The man didn’t turn. He continued to kneel, making an awful munching noise. The visceral sound of unnatural chewing. I could’ve assumed the man to be a thief, but I recognised that red, chequered shirt. It was definitely Jerry.
What’s he eating? I wondered. Is he okay?
The automatic doors closed behind me, and the rain became a muted, distant backdrop. Seeing no more than a few feet ahead of me, I walked through the silent shopfront towards the man on his knees. When I reached him, I crouched down and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Jerry, what are you doing?” I asked.
In a sudden snap that sent me sprawling backwards, the man’s head twisted – twisted beyond bodily limits. And he revealed the source of the feasting.
The owner was eating shards of glass.
Jerry sat in a pile of shattered tube fragments, and I looked above to see a burst light fixture.
“I like the feeling of it...” He panted in a garbled, barely-audible voice.
Jerry leant forwards, inching out of the shadows. His face was finally illuminated by the lighting from the outdoor shelter.
And it was not a face at all.
Holes tunnelled through the cavities that should have revealed his eyeballs and mouth, but those openings instead continued to the other side of his head.
I wailed, scrambling to my feet, and Jerry inexplicably rose in mirrored unison – as if I were puppeteering him.
Is he puppeteering me? I fearfully wondered.
The man howled, widening the tunnel that had been burrowed through the back of his mouth, revealing the blackened shopfront beyond. Without waiting for an explanation, I turned on my heel and sprinted to the exit.
As the two doors parted, I returned to the weighted blanket of a thunderous night. And I immediately noticed that a vehicle was parked alongside mine — a police cruiser. Beside it, Arthur Whitlock was standing in the rain with a bulky, grey pistol raised.
“MOVE!” He yelled over the downpour.
Driven by a soldier’s instinct, rather than conscious thought, I dropped to my knees.
There sounded a crack more deafening than thunder. I shuddered at the cold familiarity of a gunshot. With my head between my hands, and sodden jeans pressed into a puddle, I momentarily returned to Nigeria in my traumatised mind. It took a while for Whitlock’s voice to permeate my thoughts.
“Kane?” He shouted over the rain. “Are you hurt?”
I looked up at the man and silently shook my head, before turning to face the store behind me. I expected to see a slaughtered man — or once-man — lying in the puddle outside the doorway, but I did not. Jerry’s hellish form was hobbling into the forest, oozing a silky, shadowy substance from the headless stump that Whitlock had created.
“Quickly,” The officer said, grabbing my arm to pull me to my feet. “It might come back.”
We climbed into my car and eyed the rainy windscreen for a few quiet minutes.
“What was that?” I eventually whispered.
“Not Jerry,” Whitlock eventually said. “It was the thing that killed Jerry. It needs a host to remain in our world, and it forever flits from rotting corpse to rotting corpse.”
“Jerry didn’t have a face…” I mumbled.
“It wasn’t Jerry,” Whitlock repeated. “There is a world beyond ours, Kane. I wish you hadn’t seen that. However…”
The man ruffled his grey beard thoughtfully. “We’ve become close, Kane. Is it fair to say that?”
“What?” I asked, still not entirely present. “Aye. We’re friends… You were a little abrasive at first.”
“Abrasive?” He grunted. “You will soon see what I’ve seen, and you’ll understand. After all, you must take my place. You’re splintered.”
“Pardon?” I questioned.
“You carry it in your eyes, mostly,” Whitlock explained. “Splintering is a birth-defect. The tell is an innate look. I saw it on the day you arrived. You were always broken, weren’t you, Kane? Long before you fought for your country.”
I turned away, eyeing the woods from my side window. I thought Whitlock to be a madman.
The man continued. “It’s not purely about strength or intelligence. It’s not even about the cobalt bullets that send them running back to their world. After all, those dark things return. They always return.”
“What are you saying, Arthur?” I irritably asked. “I don’t understand.”
“I am a guard of Earth, Kane Foster,” Whitlock explained. “And I am the last of my kind. I have long searched for someone to take my place, and you are the first splintered soul I have met in a long time. I want you to take the Oath of the Guard. I want you to fight the dark realm.”
I turned to face him, narrowing my eyes. “I’ve just seen something that has made me question the very essence of reality. I never want to see anything of that nature again, and you’re asking me to actively pursue such things.”
“Guards don’t pursue,” He said, shaking his head. “We defend.”
“I will forever be grateful to you for saving my life, Arthur. But you need to get out of my car. I’m going home to my wife. And I’ll forget this night, just as I’ve forgotten countless nights of horror.”
The officer sighed. “You’ll change your mind, Kane. The day will come.”
The Chief Constable stepped into the rain, shutting the passenger door behind him, and I immediately slammed my foot onto the accelerator. I wanted to put some distance between myself and that haunted station — that haunted man.
I was enraged. After two years of tranquillity, I’d finally started to heal — finally reached a point of happiness in my life — only for a new nightmare to rear its head. Unable to process what I’d just witnessed, I turned to my old coping mechanism. Suppress and forget.
“What’s wrong?” Evie asked.
I’d barely taken my damp coat off, and my wife was already anxiously eyeing me in the front hallway. She could see the whiteness of my face. I never mask trauma as well as I like to imagine.
“Just a bad day. I… hit a deer on the drive home, and I had to call Arthur. He put it down,” I lied.
Evie knew I was hiding something, but she didn’t press the subject. Like me, she was afraid — neither of us wanted to face the possibility of a psychological relapse. We fled from my pain on the mainland, and I planned to leave it there.
I resolved to move past the horror of the petrol station, and I thought Evie had forgotten all about it. But she surprised me a couple of days later.
“Come in here, Kane!” My wife giggled from the living room.
I put the food in the fridge and strolled into the lounge to see something entirely unexpected. On the sofa, Evie was sitting cross-legged with a golden bundle in her lap. A Labrador.
“He’s called Benny, and he’s thirteen weeks old,” Evie gushed, playing with the dog’s floppy ears. “Somebody abandoned him outside the high school. Isn’t that horrible? Anyway, I asked Laura at the vet, and she gave us permission to foster him until she finds a new owner… Unless…”
I lifted an eyebrow and grinned. “Unless…?”
Evie chuckled. “We keep him.”
I attempted to muster a stern stance, but my disposition softened upon locking eyes with little Benny. The glistening, golden furball in my wife's lap. Before I was conscious of doing so, I found myself sitting next to Evie and petting the loveable Lab.
“So, that’s a ‘yes’?” She laughed.
I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Sure. Will it delay the talk about kids for another few years?”
It might sound strange to those who’ve never had a pet, but Benny changed me. His calming presence on the farm help to mend old wounds in my battered mind. Evie, essentially, brought a therapy dog home. She knew exactly what she was doing, and I loved her for it. After all, it worked.
A ‘splintered’ man, I thought, scoffing. Arthur’s got it wrong. I’m better now.
And I was getting better. But all good things end.
A week later, on a night that I have long sought to forget, a noise woke me. Two noises, actually — Benny’s barking, and the crunch of gravel beneath flat feet. I groaned, slipped into a T-shirt, and sleepily shuffled out of the bedroom.
“I’m coming, Benny!” I whispered loudly, attempting to calm him whilst not waking Evie. “Mum’s teaching in the morning, and she won’t appreciate…”
I stopped mid-sentence. Benny was growling at the living room window. The motion-sensor had activated our property’s exterior lights, and something was standing motionlessly in the driveway.
A headless man.
“Jerry…” I whispered.
Keeping my eyes on the horrifying creature, I side-stepped towards the living room door. The headless abomination didn’t even sway in the wind. It was glued rigidly to the spot. And then the outdoor lights turned off — only to return after a skittering sound filled the still night.
The man on the driveway was gone.
And the foundations of our house began to whine under a sizeable weight. Something was crawling up the outer wall. I could hear it, and I could sense it. Jerry had scurried out of sight in less than a second. Before I could think of what to do, however, there came the sound of an upstairs window breaking, followed by a shrill scream.
“Evie!” I shouted.
I ran upstairs, and Benny overtook me, barking wildly. We flew across the landing and burst into the bedroom. Inside, I witnessed a scene of dread. The corpse of Jerry Black, mutilated by a force from another world, was slowly digesting the body of my half-living, wholly-seizing wife.
As her upper body was consumed, she immediately became limp.
I fell to the floor in a detached state as Benny lunged at the abomination. Events passed in a haze – I refused to comprehend what I’d seen. The hellish being effortlessly kicked my courageous puppy aside. Not that my wounded friend was deterred, of course, as he quickly clambered to his feet and began tearing at Jerry’s trouser leg.
The creature didn’t care about the Labrador. Though it had no face, I could tell it was looking at me.
Waiting on my knees, tears staining my face, I watched the undead devourer lumber towards me. I closed my eyes and braced for death. Prayed to be reunited with Evie. The monstrosity took measured steps, relishing in the build leading to my demise. The stale breath of the demon rose from the depths of its stump-like neck opening. A sickening stench billowed against my face.
Inches from me, the footsteps stopped, and I heard floorboards creak on the landing. And then came a guttural bellow. A squelching tussle followed, and the brief encounter ended with a human yelp of pain.
When I opened my eyes, I saw the blade that had been driven through the corpse’s abdomen. A medieval sword which glistened in the moonlight. Jerry’s undignified corpse began to twitch violently, and ethereal matter evaporated in black streams from his near-fleshless body. The hilted blade and the unearthly thing crumpled into a lifeless mess on the ground.
Leaning against the door frame, Whitlock was clutching his pained side. A dark, bloody wound stained his shirt, and black vines were spreading quickly across his flesh. I wanted to say something. Do something. But my eyes were drawn to the empty bed.
Evie was gone.
“I… I’m sorry…” Whitlock wheezed, coughing. “She… I tried to stop it…”
I didn’t want to live anymore. Benny was sadly surveying me, whilst whimpering softly, but I barely registered him. I barely registered Whitlock. I thought only of Evie — of life without her.
“I’m so tired…” Whitlock spluttered. “Earth needs a true guard, Kane Foster.”
“She’s gone…” I sobbed, disconnected from the conversation.
“I know, Kane. I know,” Whitlock croaked. “But we’re here. The world is turning. And you–”
“– It’s up to you, Kane,” I whispered. “You must fight. A man who doesn’t fight for his country? That’s no man at all. My father said those words to me. That was how he justified his coercion — forcing me into the Army at the age of sixteen. That was how he justified beating my mother and me too.”
Whitlock spluttered.
“You were right when you said that only fools want to be soldiers, Arthur,” I continued. “I was a fool. They might teach me how to put Dad in the ground for good, I thought. So, I did as my father asked. And the cigarettes took him in the end. Meanwhile, I became an expendable pawn in someone else’s war. I’ve always been a footsoldier because my life has never been my own.”
“Kane, I’m…” Whitlock began.
“– I loved this island, Arthur,” I interrupted. “We were living for ourselves. I had a life here. And I’ve just watched it die in front of me. Evie was the only person who made the world seem a little brighter.”
Benny whined and padded towards me, brushing his soft head against the back of my hand.
Whitlock heaved heavily, inspecting the wound on his rapidly rotting flesh. “It left Jerry’s corpse… It’s trying to claim me as its host. We can’t kill it–”
“– Can’t kill darkness,” I absent-mindedly muttered.
“No… But if it has no host, it can only flee to the black realm,” He whispered. “I must be killed before it spreads…”
“Killed?” I repeated.
The old man wearily nodded. “You must do it, Kane. First, however, you must take the Oath. A spiritual binding that will open your eyes to the black realm, as it did for thousands of guards before you.”
“It’s over, Whitlock…” I whispered.
“NO!” The man roared violently. “This is about everything, Kane. Everything. Reality as we know it. Will you condemn billions of souls to eternal blackness because you lost your–”
“– Don’t…” I sliced into his sentence. “Don’t diminish her death.”
“I’m not,” Whitlock grumbled, lowering his voice. “But our world is dying, Kane. For decades, as the last of the guards have perished across Earth, the black realm has widened its reach. I have scarcely kept it at bay. Horrors skirt past me, and they take innocent lives. Without a guard of Earth, the terror will be tenfold.”
The man collapsed, clutching his wound, and we sat in silence for a while. I was thinking. Processing. Contemplating ways in which I could take my life and join Evie.
A supernatural realm exists, so there must be something after all of this, I thought.
But what would she say? My wiser voice asked. Would she smile? Would she forgive you for condemning friends and loved ones to an eternal torture?
I knew the answer, but I did not like it.
“I will take the Oath, but I will not be the last to do so,” I finally said.
Whitlock’s weary, near-lifeless eyes welled. “You are a good man, Kane Foster.”
“A splintered man,” I gruffly said.
“To be splintered is not an evil thing,” Whitlock explained. “It is a reflection of your inner turmoil, not the character of your heart.”
The man tossed his firearm to the carpet.
“Cobalt-laced bullets,” He coughed. “You know Fernsby, don’t you? My dearest friend. She manufactures them for me. Cobalt repels darkness. It’s in the sword. The bullets.”
I picked up the rusty handgun, realising I hadn’t held a weapon in three years. It felt too natural. Too easy. Everything else faded away. When the body is at war, the self dies.
“The Oath…” Whitlock whispered, removing a hefty book from his coat and placing it on the carpet. “I don’t have much time… Place your hand on the cover.”
I obliged, placing my unarmed left hand atop the cobalt-bound book.
“Do you swear to uphold this realm, Kane Foster?” Whitlock hoarsely asked.
“I do,” I answered.
“Will you protect every inhabitant of Earth? Man or creature? Good or evil?”
“I will,” I said.
“Kane Foster…” Whitlock coughed, spluttering blood with a black tinge. “I… grant you the title of Guard.”
An unexpected pressure pierced my palm – as if the book were binding me to it. The world changed. As if I’d unlocked a previously forbidden nook of my brain, I suddenly saw Earth’s darkness. Saw every rip in reality. Every opening through which horrors had entered.
And then the pain ceased. I lifted my hand, and I felt peaceful. As if a weight had been lifted.
“What does it mean to be a guard?” I asked, noting Whitlock’s fading eyes. “I… don’t know what’s required of me.”
“You were a decorated soldier, Kane Foster. You already have the brawn and the intellect to face hostile enemies,” He said. “Following the Oath, you’ve gained sight. But wisdom? Well, that can only be earned. You will come to understand your role. Trust your sight. Trust…”
Whitlock lost the strength to talk, and his breathing grew increasingly laboured. The blackened vines were clawing at his cheeks.
I rose to my feet, preparing myself for what had to be done. It was hard to be present — even harder to take note of my friend’s death. All I saw was the swirling darkness enveloping our world — the ever-multiplying cracks in reality, inviting unimaginable horrors.
Exhaling deeply, I lifted the handgun and aimed at the dying man’s temple.
A single shot filled the room with a mighty spark of light and sound.
I am the last guard of Earth. I search for others so that, one day, I might end my lifelong war. On that day, I will be Kane again.
And I will be with Evie.
Part II
dominiceagle

Update 06/02: Added new restaurant "Crawdaddy's Creole" to business openings -- see below.

• Brick & Mortar Modern General Store has announced today on their Facebook page that they will be closing their shop at 21 E Cross Street in Depot Town. From their post:

Sometimes it takes a whole lot of courage, mixed with a touch of curiosity, and a sprinkle of confidence. The 3 C’s… to keep moving through life, and adapting to the inevitable changes that come with time… (oh, and a global pandemic + it’s leap-frog affects).We felt all those things when we opened our doors here 7 years ago, and we still feel the 3 C’s again today as we close our doors, and embark on a new journey through life. Zachary is now 3 months into a dream job in the aviation industry, as an International Flight Clearance Coordinator for Kalitta Air and gets to work out of Willow Run Airport, right down the road. As a kid he used to go watch the 747s come in take off, and is grateful for “landing” this opportunity. Please join us this weekend for a special good bye. We are beyond grateful to this community for all of the experiences, support and friendships we’ve made along the way. We are grateful for YOU. PLEASE NOTE: we will still be doing custom framing, and m o s s e d + f o u n d is continuously growing. You can email us at [brickandmortarshoppe@gmail.com](mailto:brickandmortarshoppe@gmail.com) with “FRAMING” in the subject line, or message us on FB/IG for a direct phone number, to talk details. Please come see us this weekend (Friday-Sunday May 31-June 2, 12-6). Also, stay tuned for our upcoming estate sale details… but save the weekend of June 14-16.

• New ice cream shop Candy Coated Creamery's grand opening is today, Friday May 31st, from 2:00 PM - 10:00 PM. They are located at 1076 N Huron River Drive. They have had a soft opening this past week and the reviews have been excellent.
• I'm not a coffee person but a new coffee delivery service called The Coffee Bug caught my eye. They are doing cold brew porch drop offs (think the milk man, but with coffee) and from the looks of their Instagram profile are putting together a mini coffee food truck sort of deal - I'm sure we'll see them around soon at local events. Information below taken from their online ordering page (see Instagram profile link):

The Coffee Bug is now offering bottled version of their delicious cold brew. The cold brew has hints of chocolate undertones and pairs great with a warm bagel or any morning treat. Our cold brew is served in reusable glass bottles delivered right to your front porch! Just like an old fashion milkman, but better :) Orders will be delivered on Sundays and must be submitted at least 48 hours prior (ie the Friday before desired delivery) Next estimated delivery date: June 2nd Payment via Cash, PayPal, Venmo - due on delivery. 12oz $20 for 4 or $27 for 6 16oz $25 for 4 or $35 for 6 32oz bottle $15 64oz bottle $25 For every bottle returned, you'll get a $1.00 off your next purchase.

• New restaurant Crawdaddy's Creole at 22 N Washington Street (the former Beezy's location). No official website yet, it seems they are in a soft opening stage. Hours posted are 11:00 AM - 12:00 AM. Menu comprises seafood boils, jambalaya, catfish sandwiches, hush puppies, beignets and more! See this post on the Ypsilanti Area Discussion Facebook page for pictures of the full menu.

I (27M) have a retired service dog, (9y M) who has one flaw, he doesn't like other dogs near his face. He's pretty tolerant but will correct another dog (nip at them when they get to close, growl, normal boundary setting behavior and when the dog backs off he stops and will go back to playing). He was attacked by 3 dogs as a puppy, one grabbed him by the side of his head while the other two bit his legs.
Slowly I've noticed my inlaws go from loving and adoring my dog to slowly phasing him out of all family events. He's a 60-65# American Staffordshire terrier Labrador cross. Even before the new baby was here, yup there's a new baby in the mix too, they started slowly phasing him out it feels. Had me stop bringing him to family events he was always allowed to go too.
Here's the thing, my fiance and I DONT WANT him to meet the baby yet. He's too big and too strong for an infant (under 6m). We put him on a leash every time. The closest he's been to the baby is about 5-10 feet and he was a sweetheart about it. He's always been very tolerant of children.
The straw that broke the camels back was my dog was supposed to be formally uninvited to the memorial day bbq but no one told me till we got to the lake (private property). We had my dog on a leash but my BILs dog was there and the baby. It was recommended, and strongly encouraged, we take MY DOG home. We did because the other dog is pushy and gets in my dogs face and doesn't always respond to his owners and we didn't want to set my dog up to be the villain we know he isn't.
When we pulled up their dog even charged at us and wasn't responding so I had to body block as their dog ran straight for his face. Oh, their dog? One of the Fab three (poodle, lab, golden) not posting directly in an attempt to hide identifying information.
We don't know what to do to convince them to let him at family events again. He's muzzle trained (in case of emergency) so we've considered getting him a well fitted basket muzzle for when him and the other dog play. It wouldn't stress him out as he's well adjusted to muzzles. Like I said, he's 9 years old we want him to enjoy family events. The other dog is under 3y she still has plenty of time.
He cried most of the way home from the lack because we barely walked 20 feet from our car when we were told we were supposed to leave him home. Hmwe stayed with him for about half an hour before we left again so he didn't think he was just being dropped and ran.
He is impeccably trained, obviously, and has a Canine Good Citizenship award. He ignored the other dog when told to, lays at my feet 90% of the time or just lounges in the grass, very respectful of the leash. I just want him to enjoy life and family events.
Additionally, he has an autoimmune disease that affects his eyes. He's on medication to help but we worry for his long term eye health. Aka we're worried he'll go blind in a couple years. We want him to enjoy life while he can still see. There's no guarantee he'll lose his vision but his eyes are starting to get a little milky even with medication. It's one of the reasons he was medically retired.
Any advice is appreciated.
And No, they never even offered put their dog on a leash to give my dog time to run about and enjoy himself. Honestly I don't think they even bring a leash to the lake (private property). I have like 7 in my car but every time I've offered in the past I've been rejected about it.
I will not respond to bully breed hate.

Does anyone else think it’s a bit stupid that so many resources are allocated to pit bulls? Our shelters are overcrowded to the point where dogs of all breeds are being euthanized.
Just recently, a litter of six Labrador puppies was euthanized in New Mexico because there wasn’t enough space for them. Yet, if you browse social media, you’ll see people selling their pit bulls for $300 like it’s no big deal. It’s infuriating.
This breed monopolizes the resources and attention, while other equally deserving dogs are paying the ultimate price. It's like a plague, and it's heartbreaking to see so many wonderful dogs being overlooked and euthanized.
The mental gymnastics it takes to not recognize a dog might be best served by BE, and instead, hoping that someone will eventually to go for it are insane. There was one dog I saw at a rescue that had been there for a year.
In no universe does saving the dog that can’t be put in a crate, be around any other living creature that is smaller than it, or be touched in certain spots/be surprised make sense.

Timestamp: https://imgur.com/a/Z5Q916Y
All items price include shipping, only accepting PPFF, not splitting unless noted, will get you tracking no later than 1 day after receiving payment.
Always interested in trades and bundle deals, feel free to hit my PMs with those or any questions/comments/concerns.
Currently in the trade market for a Larue MBT/Geissele 2 stage, KAC URX4 10.75", Criterion 11.5-12.5 barrels. Always down for a trade or bundle deal.
WTS:
1. Geissele MK4 Federal rail, ODG, Gen 2, Blem- $225. Blemula, been mounted a bunch but not shot a lot, maybe 500 rounds MAX. This has been bubba'd a bit by yours truly to fit a VLTOR MUR, very minor filing off the edges of the tabs. Still locks up and fits great on any upper, hard to tell when installed.

1. Daniel Defense Micro Red Dot Mount- $60. Brand new, mounted but never brought out. RED DOT NOT FOR SALE.
   
2. Faxon Gunner Duty Series 11.5" Midlength 5.56 Barrel with Superlative Adjustable Gas Block and Tube- $175. Bought new, around 200 rounds down the pipe, just moving down to a 10.5" setup. Gas block is a catch and release, previously rattle canned but in great shape. Barrel in great condition and was super accurate with Fiocchi ammo. 1:8 twist.
   

BUY #1-3 for only $420 total! Nice ;)

1. GG&G 30mm Scope Mount- $125. Catch and release, no rounds by me. Great condition, has been witness marked.
2. Hex Dragonfly- $120. Takeoff from a Prodigy, can add an A13B plate for $20 more. Great condition, new battery, great optic with a nice window but I'm running irons on this puppy.
3. Versacarry 2011 IWB Holster- $25. Works with my Prodigy, optic no light, surely fits other 2011s. Nice leather holster, firm clip.
4. BCM PNT Trigger- $40. 20 rounds down the pipe, not my speed. Basically new.
5. Seekins Precision .625" Adjustable Gas Block- $45. Used for approximately 50 rounds, just a holdover until my Superlative came in. In great shape. Can come with carbine gas tube for +$10.
6. KAC Panel Set- $20. Catch and release, slightly salty but that just adds some extra flavor.
7. Timber Creek FDE Barrier Stop, MLOK- $15. Catch and release with some light use, no major salt..

Thanks all!

Hi! Today was...sort of a mess? I have a sweet girl, a 4 year old feist, chihuahua, jack russel mix, who I got when I was about 16ish give or take. Her name is Sadie! This is gonna take a lot of explaining because I want to give full context, so I apologize if this is messy. This is also kinda venty, but I feel like the advice flair fits better since I do need it.
She was a gift from my mom's friend, because I was a dumb little teenaged girl who wanted a puppy. I don't live with my mom, and I never have, I've always lived with my grandparents. Sadie was technically my mom's dog, as she lived with her and what not for at least a year and a half, where I believe she was...unfortunately left completely untrained in any regards to behavior or anything of the sort. One day, the day after my grandpa passed away, my mom brought Sadie over for a "visit" and then Sadie sort of just never left. Now she's my dog, and my responsibility.
She's a good girl for the most part. Very cuddly and affectionate; she likes to sit on the garden swing with me and she falls asleep curled up to my side every night. She's my best friend, honestly. But she has severe anxiety issues, seperation and otherwise. She barks at everything and everyone, cars, people, other dogs, the sound of someone dropping an orange in the other room...She goes crazy. She's never hurt anyone though, and is actually pretty good with meeting new people. She'll bark for a bit, but after she's done sniffing and getting it out of her system she'll be as sweet as can be and demand headpats. I've taken her out in public before; to yard sales and cook outs etc, and while she's been a little snippy, she's always behaved for the most part.
She gets very excited and anxious around other dogs, and that's where the issue of the day comes in. She's met new dogs before. She'll bark and sniff, and she doesn't really like it when they get in her space, but she doesn't mind getting into theirs. Our neighbors who live behind our house have three dogs at the moment, and on the rare chance that Sadie gets off leash by accident, whether that's because she slipped out of my hand or because she got out when we open the door, she runs to go run around their pen. She does this thing where she'll run with them for a bit excitedly, her on one side and the others on the other side, and then stick her nose in and sniff and do dog things before running again. She's never expressed anything i'd consider aggressive during these encounters, but given today? I could be totally wrong.
Now onto the meat of the matter; I took her to a walking trail today because I figured it would be good to get her out of the house. Given her other experiences in public, I figured it would be fine, but I was...very wrong!! We had three incidents on the trail, though the first two weren't as horrible as the last.
Number one; we ran into two girls walking by and she got excited and wanted to go give them her usual sniff n bark routine. When I saw them coming, I pulled Sadie aside, shortened her leash, and gave them a wide berth, apologizing for her behavior as we passed eachother by. That was fine.
Two; we were rounding a corner and met a couple who had two dogs with them; one leashed, and one unleashed. I immediately pull Sadie back while the unleashed dog approaches; she's going crazy, it is an uncomfortable experience. I eventually pick her up while they apologize and releash their dog, and then pass us by, but at that point Sadie is clearly stressed out and I realize that we need to leave. Over all, I thought I had handled this one well as I had kept Sadie and the unleashed dog from interacting, but incident three really put me in my place.
Three: A dude was running by with, you guessed it, a dog. I saw him and his little friend approaching from a good distance away, so I reeled in Sadie's leash again and stepped off to the side. We were on a bit of a narrower strip of trail this time, so there wasn't anywhere I could really go, so I crouched down and began to soothe Sadie while I waited for them to pass. As they walked by, however, Sadie got progressively more upset, and managed to slip out of my arms and behind me. I was holding onto her leash for dear life; because for a three foot pooch Sadie is insanely stout. Me being the scrawniest, teensiest 19 year old known to man probably didn't help either. She literally pulled me backwards, causing me to end up back-down in the grass by the trail as she tried to chase after that poor dude and his dog. I didn't let go of her leash, and thankfully nothing came of this, but I did get scratched all to hell by gravel and ended up very winded.
She had never done anything this aggressive before. She's always been anxious, sure, but she's never done something like that before. It's definitely made me realize that she needs a lot more training than I originally thought, as I really did thing she was doing well given her previous anxiety issues. I probably won't be taking her out to a public trail again, but it does make me sad. I also know I could have definitely handled this better; such as not putting her in the situation where she could run into other dogs in the first place, but I'm trying not to beat myself up for it. Bullying myself isn't going to help Sadie improve and get better, so I'm trying not to bother with it.
I sort of feel overwhelmed, as Sadie is my first dog that's actually mine and not owned by my parents. I wish I could have had her as a puppy so maybe I could have trained her or helped her, but lamenting that now isn't going to help either. Even if this is difficult, I want to do good for her. She's my best friend, and I want to learn how to make her safe and happy, while keeping other people's pets safe as well. I don't think I could live with myself if Sadie got hurt or hurt another animal. All I've come up with so far is just...not taking her out in public, so advice for how I could help her improve her anxiety and "social skills" would be helpful. I think more research definitely should have been done on her breeds before we got her, but that's another thing that's in the past that I can't really fix.

Hello everyone, I am writing this post to tell you the story of Nacho, our Golden retriever puppy, and ask for your advice. My girlfriend and I are two Italian medical students in our last year of university, we recently moved in together, and we wanted wholeheartedly to adopt a dog. The golden retriever seemed like the perfect choice for first dog owners like us who like medium/large dogs. In Italy (as probably in most countries) the prices for buying GR puppies can be close to 3500-4000 USD (top tier breeders) and the waiting list up to 1 year long, so perhaps naively we decided to search on subito.it (the Italian equivalent of Craiglist), where we found a listing for sale of this 4-month-old puppy at 650 USD. We contacted the seller, a guy who told us that he was selling it because his sister, after buying the dog from a breeder at 2000 USD, developed a severe allergic reaction to the fur that forced her to go to the emergency room and consequently they had to give up the dog. Inquiring about the dog's pedigree, we were told that the breeder from whom they got the dog (whose name they couldn’t remember despite me asking multiple times), in turn purchased it from a Hungarian breeder and the time to transfer the pedigree from Hungary to Italy can be 3-4 months. All very suspicious, however by this time we had fallen in love with the puppy, and decided to take him despite the uncertainties about the pedigree, because the alternative of buying him from a backward breeder did not appeal to us. From when we got him to now, the dog has had no health problems, he is the most playful and adorable dog in the world. He is microchipped, vaccinated, has a Hungarian passport, and in a few days he will have his first vet visit with us for filariasis prevention and the last missing rabies vaccine. These days I have contacted the previous owners, who have often been in touch to get photos of how the puppy is growing, however, to my request to know from which kennel he was purchased, I was met with silence. These days I have also read more than one article about puppy breeding in Eastern Europe, and even in my city, puppies from those areas were recently seized and the “breeders” arrested. I write this post as my biggest concern is for the health of the puppy. Having the assurance that it was raised by professionals would make me feel more comfortable about the possibility of health problems not arising in the future. What do you veterinarians think about this story? How concerned should I be?

It's pretty well accepted that Bluey is a good representation of a heeler: clever, energetic and a bit of a handful.
As someone who's been around JRTs a bit, I cannot think of a better dog to represent Jack's type of ADHD.
Every pug I've known has been food obsessed and a little bit gross (with a runny nose).
Of course labradors live and die for sports.
The chows I've known have been aloof and a little snippy, much like Judo and Wendy.
Beyond that, though, I'm curious. If your dog's breed is represented in the Bluey crew, how'd they do with the personality?
Is your English bulldog a space invader with a heart of gold?
Is your kelpie athletic, hardworking, focused and great with your kids?
Is your pomeranian small but hardy?
Is your border collie impatient and high energy (...yes I know they all are), and do they have separation anxiety?
Is your King Charles a big dog in a little dog's body?
Is your chihuahua a mopey sad sack?
Is your yorkie anxious in new situations?
Is your Maltese shy but sweet?
Is your Aussie kind, friendly and great with your kids?
Is your beagle a goofball who can make anyone laugh?
Is your poodle determined to be the boss of the household?
Is your St Bernard a bit of a bully to people he recognizes as pushovers?
Is your sausage dog friendly and up for anything?
Is your Afghan an anti-vaxxer? (Okay I'm starting to run out of puppies with discernable personalities. But my own mother was a hippie who owned an Afghan Hound in those days so Indy and her mum are favorites of mine.) Is your dalmatian...idk does Chloe have a personality? Yeah, I think I'm out of pups I can think of offhand, but let me know if I missed your pup!
...bonus points if you include pictures.