The Pepper Predicament: All Good Things Come to an End

My dog is dead.

OK, so that's a pretty heavy way to start this off, but it is nonetheless true. Sgt Pepper, my Little Man, has shuffled off this mortal coil.

He's been gone for 12 days now, but it hurts like it just happened yesterday. All those cliches, all those sad, sappy statements... they're all true. Our home feels too quiet and empty. My heart feels like it has a hole in it. I'd give just about anything to hold him one more time, to watch him run down the driveway, or even have him bark incessantly at me for no apparent reason. It was too soon. I need more time. I want him back.

And you know, if you read those statements, they all sound incredibly selfish. Our home. My heart. I need. I want. It seems that it's my pain I'm worried about, when maybe I should be focused on the fact that he's at peace now. No more heart murmur or heart disease. No more thyroid problems. No more arthritis. No more coughing. No more pain. No more medications. By Rainbow Bridge standards, he's young again, full of life (and hair!) and able to breathe. He's free.

As rational as that sounds, and as much as I'd love to say it makes me feel better, I just don't see it that way. Not now. Not yet. Maybe someday? I hope.

For now, I miss him. Even the stupid stuff. I miss hearing him bark bright and early in the morning (or sometimes in the middle of the night) for no reason, or because he was hungry and just couldn't (or wouldn't) wait. I miss playing "Poops or No Poops?" - when we woke up in the morning and headed into the kitchen, we always wondered... would there be a bunch of crap (literally) to pick up or would he have made it through the night? More often than not the answer was poops. But every once in awhile it would be a no poops kind of morning, a pleasant surprise indeed. I miss his excessive prancing at meal times, which sometimes reached the point of recklessness as he crashed into water dishes or trash cans.

Even the things I don't miss - like having to lock the trashcan in the bathroom overnight so he didn't get into it or making sure anything leather was out of reach, lest we lose another shoe or baseball mitt - I would put up with again just to have him around. He wasn't a terribly people-oriented dog. He wasn't cuddly (with us, anyway), he never gave kisses, and he mostly just didn't care if you were around or not. But we had some kind of connection. He would follow me around. He would sleep in my arms in the car. He'd let me hold him in the big bed sometimes.

He let me love him. More than anything, I'm grateful for that.

So here's hoping they have good internet at The Bridge and that you're reading this, Little Man. Because I need you to know that you were so, so loved, and I need to thank you for letting that happen. You let us love you as much as we possibly could, and you let us give you a whole year of being spoiled and doted on. You gave us so much, and I hope you appreciate what we were able to give you as well.

I love you, Little Man. Always.

The Pepper Predicament - Part 4: Hang On Pepper, Pepper Hang On

I feel like this is a good time to do a recap of the timeline:

• Monday night: 
• Pepper gets into the garbage for the second time within a week.
• Tuesday:
• That morning he was acting slow and a little weak. He had to be spoon-fed his meals.
• That evening, he was still slow, but seemed less lethargic.
• Wednesday: 
• That morning he seemed to be feeling better and moving quicker. He even made it down the steps himself.
• In the evening, he was more unsteady than before. He couldn't stand long enough to eat from his bowl, and eventually he fell down while walking (and trying to pee). 
• Around 7 we took him to the emergency vet. He spent most of the time lying on the exam table, and didn't even make a fuss when they took his temp. He was admitted that night.
• Thursday: 
• Hubby called the vet in the morning, doesn't get much from them. Called back later and learns that they want to do an ultrasound, but that the other tests have basically come up empty.
• I headed over to the vet that afternoon to spend time with Pepper. I spent an hour talking to him and petting him. The most activity I saw from him was right after they drew some blood. He lifted his head, but didn't do much else.
• That evening, Hubby and I visit. They had just started him back on the thyroid medication. We would check in the next morning.

OK, now we're caught up.

On Friday morning, Hubby called to check in on Pepper again. He spoke with the receptionist, who asked if they could raise our "limit" to $3,000. When Hubby asked what we were up to, she told him $2700. And she said they wanted to keep him another day.

When we first dropped him off Wednesday night, we were given an estimate between $1400 and $1950. We had to pay the low end up front, and were told we'd pay any difference when we left. So when we heard we were at $2700, Hubby freaked out. Hell, I freaked out. And when I freak out, I call my mom. I had already called her on Thursday to let her know what was going on, and I had spoken with both of my parents Thursday night to tell them how he was doing and what we knew. So I knew calling her was the best option for me at that moment because she already knew everything going on, but had a more outside perspective.

Mom and I talked through everything and came up with a plan, which I relayed to Hubby. We were going to meet up at the vet (while Hubby was on lunch; I had already called in again) and if they couldn't give us a good, solid reason why Pepper needed to stay another day, then we were going to take him home. I presented this to Hubby, and he agreed. 

Just then the receptionist called him back. He let her know just how unhappy we were with the whole situation. Her response was to suggest we come in and see how well he was doing and "not do anything drastic to hurt his progress." She then mentioned that they could move him to medical boarding for only $46 per night. Um, you're just telling us this NOW?! What. The. F*ck.

So I was doing my best, trying to stay calm (which is hard because normally Hubby is the calm to MY storm) and my dad called. He wanted to check in (not sure if he had spoken with my mom or what). I told him what was going on, and he said he was in the area and asked if it would help if he came by. Good god, yes. If there's anyone who can handle this situation, it's my father. Hubby couldn't get away from work anyhow, so Dad and I ended up going over to the vet instead.

I was on a mission to bring my little man home. Hang on, Pepper! Mama's coming for you!

To be continued...

The Pepper Predicament - Part 3: Pepper's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

After calling our regular vet to confirm they were closed for the night, we hopped in the car and headed to the local 24-hour emergency vet (which, thankfully, is about a 10 minute drive from our house). We'd caught someone at our vet's office before they left for the day, so they were able to fax over Pepper's medical history while we were on our way.

It didn't take long before we were in an exam room. A vet tech came and took care of all the normal stuff: temperature, weight, all that jazz. My perception of time is all out of whack, but I don't think it was very long after that before the vet came in. He checked Pepper over, asked us to tell him what happened (which we had already told the receptionist and the vet tech, so we were pretty good at getting all the details out by then). By this point, Pepper was so lethargic and weak that he was simply lying on the exam table, barely lifting his head. It took everything in me not to start bawling.

We learned a few things right away. The first was that the vet believed Pepper's heart murmur was at a grade 4 or 5. Now, grading heart murmurs can be pretty subjective and it obviously varies by vet, but the last we knew he was at a 2 or 3 so that kind of hit me like a truck. The other thing we learned was that they were going to keep Pepper... for 2 or more days. I HATED the idea of him being away from us, but I also understood the importance of monitoring him and keeping him safe. 

One thing that kept resulting in perplexed looks and confusion was that Pepper hadn't been vomiting or had any nasty shits since getting into the garbage. We admitted that we had been surprised by that as well, and no one was sure if that was a good sign or a bad one. 

We were given a rundown of the tests he would undergo: x-rays and ultrasounds to check for blockages, an echo to see how his heart is doing, etc. He would be put on an IV right away to keep him hydrated, and they would be keeping him in an area that has someone on duty 24 hours a day. They offered to take us on a tour of the facility, which we gladly took them up on. They showed up where Pepper would get his testing done, where he would be sleeping, where the other animals would be... I was glad to see that he would have plenty of space (the crate he had there was bigger than the one he shares with Maxine) and that someone would be there to check in on him. After a lot of fussing and near breakdowns, we left our little man in their hands.

They told us we could call or come over to check on him whenever we wanted. We started taking advantage of that the next morning. I had a dentist appointment that morning (yay cavity) and was originally supposed to work before and after, but with my baby in the hospital, I wasn't able to concentrate on anything else. I got through my dentist appointment, got back home, and asked Hubby what he'd learned. The truth was that there wasn't much to know yet. They had done the echo and the x-rays, but hadn't found anything conclusive. They said he had been walking fine when they took him out around 3 that morning, and again around 8, but that when they walked him at 10 he had regressed, and was back to being unsteady and uncoordinated. They decided that the next step was an ultrasound, but after that they were pretty much out of ideas. They suggested we consider seeing a neurologist.

What Hubby said at that point about killed me. "Putting him down is starting to look like a real possibility."

I wasn't ready to accept that. I called my mom and talked to her for awhile. She helped calm me down and after talking about things, I decided to go the vet to visit. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I have reservations about driving in Milwaukee. Hubby drives me damn near everywhere I need to go, and driving in the city makes my anxiety jump through the roof. I'd already had to drive myself to the dentist that morning, and here I was about to drive to the vet. I wish Pepper could understand how much I love him. I was not just willing to drive to see him, I was determined to. You couldn't have stopped me. Because if putting him down was even an option, I was going to spend as MUCH time with him as possible.

I spent an hour with him that afternoon. They put a blanket on the floor for me to sit on, and they opened the crate so I could get close to him. I talked to him. I pet him. I kissed him and hugged him. He was still so lethargic, I could hardly believe he was my little man.

They stopped by to draw blood from him at one point. He was slightly more alert after that (probably because they had taken him from the comfort of his blankies), but not much. He perked up a bit when he heard another dog getting fed, and they told me that he had been eating while he was there, which is always a good sign. I left reluctantly (only because I knew we'd be back later), and managed not to cry until I got into my car.

Hubby and I came back that evening to talk to the vet. Little had changed, but we were going to try something new. We were going to put him back on the thyroid medication (the stuff we had tried in June for a couple of weeks), because it appeared clear to the vet that the thyroid issues were the predominant concern at the moment. After spending some more time with Pepper, we left, hoping the morning would bring some better news.

To be continued...

The Pepper Predicament - Part 2: We Have a Pepper Down

Most anyone who has or has had a dog knows that they love to get into things they shouldn't. Miss Maxine first got into the kitchen garbage within a week of adopting her (which is why we quickly changed to a lidded can) and ate some Arby's wrappers. She once stole some very expensive cheese - this stuff costs about $20/lb - while we were still in the room. She ate 90% of a bacon-wrapped filet before we caught her, has eaten June bugs (ewwwww), and has tried to eat several bees (but hasn't been successful). Sgt Pepper is much the same. In the 6 months we've had him, he has chewed up 3 pairs of shoes, chewed on Hubby's baseball glove, has gotten into the living room trash at least once (I think it was twice), and now the kitchen garbage twice. And those are just a handful of things he's gotten to, I'm sure.

So knowing this, and having experienced similar happenings in the past, when Pepper got into the trash, we expected some kind of... reaction. To put it bluntly, we figured he would puke and/or shit because of the things he had ingested. Especially with the beef trimmings being so fatty, we were sure some doggy diarrhea was in our future. So we waited. He might've had some digestive issues from the first time in the trash, I don't really remember. But the second time, there was nothing. It happened on a Monday evening, and all Monday night he was fine.

When he was a little slow on Tuesday morning, we figured maybe it was catching up with him. I woke Hubby up at about 6:30 to come see him moving slowly and awkwardly, concerned he had eaten something toxic. But he went outside nice enough, did his business (which was normal), and came back inside. No real problem.

Until we tried to feed him. He took a few bites and then went to bed. Now, that may not seem like a big deal. Maybe he was still full from his all-you-can-eat garbage buffet, right? Well, you haven't met this dog. Dogs are motivated by different things. Some are motivated by praise, and simply making you happy is enough to get them going. Some love treats and toys. Pepper is food-motivated. He is never more animated than when he's about to get fed. And once you drop that bowl, all bets are off. Your fingers better be out of there, lest he consume them in his haste.

I followed him back to his crate and watched him. I knew he needed his heart meds, which were mixed in with his food, so I brought it out to him and spoon fed him. I fed him his whole breakfast. He hadn't lost his appetite at all! He was just too lethargic to stand there and eat. Same thing happened with dinner. All day he was a little slow, a little off, but we figured things just had to run their course.

Wednesday morning he was doing better. He went up and down the steps by himself, ate some breakfast from his bowl, etc. Things were looking up! So Hubby and I planned to go to the State Fair that night after work and things were business as usual.

Until we were about to leave. We always try to take the pups out before we go anywhere because Pepper has such a hard time holding it. So out we went... except something was wrong. Pepper was walking like he was drunk, stumbling around and uneasy on his feet. Eventually he went to lift his leg to pee and down he went. He just fell over! Right then I decided the fair could wait; we were taking Pepper to the emergency vet NOW.

To be continued...  

The Pepper Predicament - Part 1: Pepper, Destroyer of Kitchens

So to help you go through this the same way we did, I have to start with the Wednesday before everything went down.

Hubby and I went to the zoo for Sunset Zoofari (something our zoo does in the summer where the zoo closes like normal at 5 but reopens from 6-9). When we go places, we tend to leave Maxine in the living room and Pepper in the kitchen. See, Pepper is an old man and has some separation anxiety. Put those together and you tend to come home to a lot of piss and shit. Literally. So while Maxine is free to roam the (carpeted) living room, Pepper is confined to the (linoleum) kitchen. We close the bedroom and bathroom doors, leave out a few pee pads, give him toys and treats to curb some of his chewing, and we have a nice bed in there for him to rest on. 

So on this particular Wednesday, to help Pepper's separation anxiety (and partly due to laziness), we kept BOTH the pups in the kitchen. We thought Pepper might feel better if Maxine was there to hang out with. Well, that and they hadn't finished eating yet, so rather than waiting or forcing Maxine to go without the rest of her dinner, we just put the baby gate up and left. When we got home, we realized this may have been a mistake:

You know you love the '70s floor.

Yes, we came home to a disaster zone. The garbage and recycling were both tipped over (a first in the almost 6 months we've had Pepper). The floor was littered with boxes, paper, coffee grounds, food containers, you name it. An old shoe was used as a chew toy (not a huge deal, but still). Pepper (and possibly Maxine, who knows?) had peed everywhere (both on and off the pads) and took what I call a walking dump (where he takes a shit but can't squeeze everything out in one go, so he keeps trying and in the process ends up wandering a bit, leaving little dollops of crap all over the place). Since Pepper is a tiny little thing (17 pounds) and not always the most active dog in the world, we figured this was a collaboration of sorts. There was, after all, a motivational component to this: a bone from the pork Hubby had made the weekend before was in the trash, along with remnants of aluminum foil that no doubt smelled (and probably tasted) like tasty, forbidden meat. Oi.

The following Monday we went to dinner with a friend. This time we returned to our normally scheduled programming and left Pepper in the kitchen and Maxine in the living room. When we got home, we expected to clean up the standard P&S package that Pepper so thoughtfully leaves for us on a regular basis. Instead, we came home to an almost identical scene. This time the recycling bin stayed upright, but the garbage was down, there was P&S everywhere (including the bed, which we have now just thrown away), it was gross. It took awhile to come to terms with the fact that this little dog (who even on his hind lefts isn't as tall as the bin) had created such chaos. Then we realized there had been beef trimmings in the trash. If there is one thing in this world that motivates Pepper, it's food. And apparently he simply could not resist the temptation any longer. We gave him the opportunity, and he ran with it. Totally our bad.

Going forward, we decided to put the trash can in the bathroom (with the door closed, of course). That decision was not a hard one to make (although I'm still pulling for just getting a bigger, heavier trash can, because one of these times we WILL forget to move it, I just know it), and it has been working pretty well for us. Problem solved, right?

Come on, you know better than that.

To be continued...

The Pepper Predicament - Prequel

Part of adopting a rescue dog is being uncertain of the past. Miss Maxine, as you may recall, started as a mill dog who had a litter or two very young. Then she was a farm dog, fed only scraps of people food and (probably) given no real love. Then she was adopted by a couple who brought her back within a month because she wasn't the right fit for them. While we know the general outline, we don't know any of the specifics. With Pepper, it's even less clear. All we know is that his owner died, he was transported from Kentucky to Wisconsin (in the dead of winter), and now he's our little man. Who knows what happened during his 10-12 years of life before us?

Part of adopting an older/senior dog is being uncertain of the future. Maxi was probably about 2 when we adopted her almost 5 years ago, so she's about 7 now (maybe as young as 6 or as old as 8). She still thinks she's a puppy sometimes, and she's always full of energy and excitement. We figure she's got a decent amount of time left with us, and we'll do whatever we can to make sure that's the case. When you adopt an older dog, every day going forward is more precious, but less certain. Pepper is our old man. The people who first rescued him thought he was about 7 years old. Then the vet in WI took a look and decided he was more like 10-12, but probably closer to 10 since he's still pretty spunky. This past week, we were told he was more likely on the upper end (more precisely, we were told he was "older than [we] thought"). We've had him for almost 6 months now, but we have no idea how much longer he'll be in our lives. He's in heart failure, has thyroid issues, urinates ALL the time, and is a crotchety old man. And even though we don't know everything that the future holds, we do know that we're in it with him all the way.

Part of adopting ANY dog (really, any animal at all) is love. Unconditional, intense, instant, everlasting love. If you don't love your dog, it's not the dog's fault... Our dogs can drive us absolutely insane. They steal our food, make messes in our house, demand attention at inopportune moments, bark their fool heads off for no real reason, need to be taken out in all kinds of weather, and frequently act like our desire to cuddle them is an annoyance at best. But we wouldn't change a thing. We chastise them for stealing our steak, but still share our bacon. We clean up their messes and blame ourselves for being inattentive. We shirk our responsibilities to make sure our pups know they're loved. We let them bark, take them out in a foot of snow or the dead of night, and we force them into cuddling even if they squirm the whole time. And we do it all because we freakin' love those little furballs more than we can even explain.

And it's that love that means we'll do anything if we think it will help them stay in our lives even for one more afternoon, one more walk, one more cuddle. We know they won't live forever. We might hope and pray that they will, but somewhere inside we know that they will leave us eventually. And as heartbreaking as it is to lose a family member - furry or otherwise - we know that we're better off for having had them in our lives at all. And if we've done things right, we know that they were better off for having been part of our family, no matter how briefly.

This may all seem obvious (especially if you have a pet that you love with all of your heart), but I felt it necessary that I explain all of this before diving into the events coming in the next few posts.

To be continued...

Summer? Is that you?

The first summer "holiday" has come and gone. While I'm already whining about being back at work, I am extremely excited for one thing: Summer. 

OK, so I know summer doesn't officially start until late June. In fact, according to the calendar, my June 17th birthday is in spring. But calendars can get f*cked because my birthday is in summer, dammit! I never celebrated my birthday at school (unless you count half birthdays), I've had several pool parties, water balloon fights, and melted ice cream cakes for my birthday. Those aren't spring activities, bucko. And since we in the Midwest get majorly gypped when it comes to warm weather months, I'm pretty sure we get a pass in claiming the whole month of June in the name of summer.

Regardless, Memorial Day weekend is the unofficial start of the summer. Water parks and pools are open, kids (and teachers!) are almost free for the summer, and the camping season is upon us. Yep, after this 4-day week, Hubby and I are taking both the pups camping. It'll be Pepper's first trip with us, and we're hoping he enjoys the fact that he can pee on pretty much anything all weekend long without getting yelled at. We already know Maxine loves camping, so we're definitely keeping our fingers crossed.

An update on the good ol' boy: He spent all of last Wednesday at the vet getting tested for Cushing's disease. As it turns out, the test was inconclusive. He either has Cushing's or thyroid disease, and while both present similar symptoms, the treatments are different enough that we really need to nail down which it is. Our vet is going to have a chat with an internal medicine specialist and let us know what the next step is going to be. It's possible that they'll just run the same test again, but with a higher dosage of the diagnostic drug. 

So what kinds of symptoms does our little man have? Anyone who has seen him knows his fur is thin and he has a bald area on his back that just won't fill in. He has lots of little bumps on his skin, and the skin itself is really, really thin. He's a tiny thing, and even though he has gained 2 pounds since living with us, you can still easily feel (and see) his hip bones and spine, but he has a pot belly. He's really sensitive to temperatures and gets hot pretty easily. He drinks a ton of water and then pees a bunch. Even his heart murmur could be a symptom. 

So far, he's not really in any pain. He does have some mild arthritis, but he's an old man, so that's pretty normal. He still gets around well, jumping on and off the couch, chasing after Maxine, and frolicking in the grass. He still doesn't trust us completely, but he's letting us in a little at a time. Just the other day we a had a breakthrough where he kept wagging his tail while I was petting him. Usually it stops dead, like he's terrified to move if we touch him. But there it went, just wagging along! 

Here's hoping we can show him just how fun summertime is for our little family. :)     

I'm baaaaaaaaack

So, it's pretty much been forever since I posted. OK, so it's been since December. Still! That's a long time. Here's a brief recap of what has been going on.

December 20-31: Christmas (got an iPad!). New Year's Eve (saw my sisters). 

January: Went to NC to see my bestie. Started spring semester.

February: Adopted a new dog (Sgt Pepper).

March: Work, school, sleep, repeat. Niece (Bestie's baby) was born!

April: Finally done with spring semester. 

May 1-14: Saw Fluffy. Went to our 1st Brewers game of the season.

And now you're caught up.

You might notice some fairly big things in there. The first is that we adopted a new pup. If you're curious about Pepper, here's the description from the shelter: "Pepper is an approximately 10 year old mini schnauzer and was a transfer from Adams County Humane Society. His owner died and he was grieving and shutting down at the shelter, so they asked if we could take him for some more individual attention."

He lived most of his life in Kentucky, so he's not a fan of snow or winter. He's a tiny little thing (around 16 pounds at the vet in March), especially compared to Miss Maxine. He is an older dog and has health problems. He has a heart disease and, with it, a murmur. He's missing most of his front teeth (except for his ginormous canines), has a big bald spot on his back, and doesn't always have control of his bodily functions. He's thrown up more since we got him in February than Maxi has thrown up in the past year. And we have a vet appointment today where we'll probably be getting some blood work done to see how advanced his heart disease is and/or whether we can "fix" his bald patch. 

On the plus side, Maxine is wonderful with him. They sleep in the crate together all day, and then Pepper sleeps in bed with us at night. He gets super excited for mealtime and loves to romp around outside (as long as the weather is good). For the first few weeks we had him, Pepper didn't make a sound (unless you count the wheezing noises he makes when he's relaxed). These days, he barks more than Maxi does, mostly out of excitement. He's still cautious around us, not completely trusting us, but he's opened up a lot since February and already we love him like he's always been part of our family. 

The other important thing is that my new niece was born! Yes, I know, she's not technically my niece. But I am Aunt Riki, and that's good enough for me. If you want to know more about her, check out the Disney Hippy's blog for info and updates. Suffice it to say, she is one adorable, lucky, spoiled, and LOVED little girl. <3

Now that I'm on summer break, I should be back more often to update, but don't quote me on that. I do have my hands full with 2 pups in the house! Here's to my sanity... 

Wednesday Crime Time: Gone to the Animals

Happy Hump Day! Here we go!

A Shorewood man, age not released, was warned for dogs at large after a woman called police to report his two schnauzers "came at her" as she walked in the 4500 block of North Wilson Drive at 1 p.m. May 7. She told him his dogs should be on a leash and he told her, "You need to be on a leash." He later apologized. 

Personally, I'd like to give him a high five for that quick retort, though I feel like he completely missed a golden opportunity to call her a bitch. (It's a dog joke, son.)

A woman, age and residence not released, was arrested for drunken driving, with a prior conviction, illegal possession of a Schedule II narcotic, driving with a revoked license, defective tail lights, defective brake lights, failure to have insurance and open intoxicants after weaving in traffic in the 4800 block of North Sheffield Avenue about 2:45 a.m. May 7. The woman had three Adderall pills in her purse which she said weren't hers. She admitted knowing her license was revoked. Her BAC was 0.12.

On the plus side... Nope. I got nothin'. 

A 32-year-old Brookfield man was cited for littering after he illegally dumped seven large, empty boxes in the trash at Applebee's, 20101 W. Bluemound Road, before 3:30 p.m. May 4.  

He could have at least dumped them in the recycling bin. Save the planet, dude.

Three men, at least one of them carrying a handgun, robbed Kentucky Fried Chicken, 6311 S. 27th St., at 10 p.m. May 10. The men, two wearing bandanas and one wearing a monkey mask, fled the store on foot with an undisclosed amount of money. Police are investigating.

See, this is what happens when the man in the yellow hat is replaced with two men in bandanas: Curious George Robs a KFC. 

A caller reported two cows running in the road in the 9000 block of West County Line Road about 1:30 p.m. May 11. Police made contact with the owner of the cows, who retrieved them.

I know there's a "Why did the cows cross the road?" joke in here somewhere... In the mean time, anyone who is still partying must immediately stop; the cows have come home.

A staff member at Kindred Transitional Care and Rehab, 5700 W. Layton Ave., called police after two patients began arguing at dinner and one of them threw a sandwich at 7:40 p.m. May 8. 

There are nicer ways of sending your order back that don't result in the police showing up, but where's the fun in that?

About $1 in change was stolen from a home and a television set was disconnected but not stolen during a residential burglary. The back door was forced open, and witnesses said they saw two vehicles in the driveway of the home between 7:30 and 8 p.m. May 4. The home is uninhabited. The location of this burglary was redacted by police.

Worst. Burglars. Ever.


"Man robs Wade gas station of cash, bread and bag of pork skins." 

This one was sent to me for special inclusion in Crime Time from a friend/reader. You can check out the story here, but the headline pretty much says it all. I hope those pork skins were worth it, dirt bag! You are a MENACE to the pork product industry and we will not stand for this injustice!! I mean, what's next? Bacon? Oh NO you do not!!

And now a couple to make you feel a little warm and fuzzy (and possibly restore some of your faith in humanity... but probably not).
 
An officer was flagged down by a bicyclist in the median at 27th Street and Sycamore Avenue to assist a duck and her ducklings across the street at 12:50 p.m. May 1. The officer helped move the ducks to a pond.

Police received a call for assistance about 2:25 p.m. May 11 after a mother duck and her ducklings got stuck in a median while attempting to cross the road in the 7500 block of West Rawson Avenue. The ducks were no longer in the area when an officer arrived.

A resident called police to report a duckling fell into a sewer near the pond behind Pick 'n Save on Sylvan Circle and Squire Drive at 6:55 p.m. May 11. The duckling was removed from the sewer and reunited with ducks that were waiting near the scene.