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April 2011


my (our) books

Fool for Love When You Don't See Me

Someone Like You I'm Your Man

He's The One It Had To Be You

The Mammoth Book of New Gay Erotica Best Gay Erotica 2007

Best Gay Love Stories: New York City Best Gay Love Stories 2005

Three Fortunes In One Cookie The Deal


If you have any of the above books and would like them signed, mail them to:

P.O. Box 131845, Houston, TX., 77219.

Please include three dollars for return postage.

Send email to

Warning: This blog may contain homosexuals which in the states of California and Maine have been alleged to destroy the sanctity of marriage. Read at your own risk.


recommended courses of action

Scout's Honor Rescue is an all-breed, no-kill, Not-For-Profit 501(c)(3) animal rescue organization committed to bringing courage, character and compassion to Houston's homeless pet population and making a positive difference in the lives of these stray and abandoned animals and the Houston community as a whole. 100% of every dollar donated goes directly to saving the life of a homeless animal.

Scouts Honor Rescue Inc.

locally known


maine AIDS alliance

global AIDS alliance


AIDS foundation houston

bering omega community services

frannie peabody center

Timothy's hair by Larry Henderson Hair Design.

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Feb. 26th, 2009

greetings to the new brunette

Some of you have been asking about Tyson, noting that I've been rather cryptic about whether or not he's still at The Compound. That's because he's not. We found a wonderful home for him while I was still in the hospital. Mr. Becky was nice enough to take Tyson to Saturdays With Scout's Honor meet and greet at the beginning of the month and, while he was there, a wonderful family met him and adored him instantly. Laura sent me their application to review and said they were willing to wait to adopt Tyson until I was out of the hospital, but I insisted they go ahead with the adoption without me. The family was perfect on paper, and, if Laura met them and approved of them, why wait for me? Get that dog in a good home, pronto.

Today, Laura and I visited Tyson in his new home, because we needed to get his crate, leash, collar, and blankets--all of which were donated items--back for my next foster dog to use. It was so great to see Tyson in his new home! The family is fantastic. They're nice people, and it's obvious that everyone loves Tyson. He greeted me and seemed happy to see me, but then he seemed to say, Nice to see you, but I've got four little children to follow. You know how it is. And then he left to see what the kids were up to in the other room. He'll have lots to do now, minding the children, which will be good for him. Laura asked me if it made me sad to see him with someone else, and I said not at all, because it's so good to see him in such a great home.

On the way back to The Compound, we stopped at Happy Tails and picked up Gypsy, my newest foster dog. She's a little over a year old and was found recently wandering the streets of Houston. She's very sweet, but kind of timid about her new surroundings. Here's a photo of her checking out her new crate in my apartment:


Feb. 3rd, 2009

tuesdays with rexford


Gimme Dat.

Rexford attempting to remove a bone from Tyson's mouth. He wasn't successful.

Feb. 2nd, 2009

return of the boom bap

Tyson's back. Unfortunately, he didn't pass his audition. He did everything right, too. The family said he was sweet, playful, and seemed to feel comfortable in their home. Unfortunately, their other dog didn't feel the same way about Tyson. And, since the other dog had seniority, he got his way and Tyson was brought back to me. It was good timing, too, because I was on my way to pick up another dog, Sanford, when I got the call that Tyson was coming back to The Compound.

Luckily, Tyson didn't seemed phased at all by his adventure. Although, he immediately ran to the water bowl in my apartment and proceeded to drink to the last drop, obviously spinning an elaborate tall tale about how the other family denied him water the entire time he was in their care. But I know for a fact that wasn't true. This morning I caught him chewing on one of my shoes and, when I told him to stop, he looked at me with innocent eyes, paws still caressing the leather, as if to say, Are you sure? The other family in that place where you left me let me chew on their shoes.

Nice try, buddy boy.

Jan. 30th, 2009

hair of the dog

Moments ago I gave Tyson a bath. He was a little afraid of the bathtub, but braved the experience beautifully like the good boy he is. Tonight I'm taking him for a weekend visit with a family who might adopt him if all goes well. Scout's Honor doesn't normally allow people to "test drive" animals, but they're making an exception this time because the family adopted a dog from SH once before. I've been exchanging emails with the family for a while now and they sound like great people, so I'm hopeful that everything will work out. A bath seemed in order for Tyson, as he looks really good when properly groomed. And because he smelled like a house on fire after hanging out next to a smoking chiminea most of last night. I'm hoping he'll be dry before we leave, but I'm not sure that's going to happen now, because he was afraid of the hair dryer. Or maybe he was trying to play with it. I'm not sure. I turned it on, he leaped backward ten feet and then crouched as though he were going to tackle the hair dryer, but then faked to the left and ran in circles. Because he loves the hair dryer, Rex, however, raced up to me as soon as I turned it on and sat primly at my feet, looking up longingly as if to say, Is it time for my appointment now? I'd like to try a bouffant, this time, or perhaps a nice up-do.

Jan. 17th, 2009

falling down

It's nice to foster a dog that plays well with others. And by "others" I mean Rex. I thought that after a couple of weeks they might tire of each other, or maybe that Tyson might start to assert himself more as he grew accustomed to being a part of our household, but that hasn't happened at all. They play, wrestle, chase each other, play tug of war, and follow each other around the apartment all day long. A couple of days ago we were all in Becky's house. Becky and I were working on a puzzle in the dining room, and Rex and Tyson were chasing each other throughout the house. All the doors were open, so they were running a constant loop, going from the living room through the dining room, into the office, rebounding off the sofa in the office, down the hall into the bedroom, back into the living room, jumping on and off the sofa in the living room, and then making the entire circuit again, over and over. During revolutions they'd crash into something. A wall, a chair, a door, you name it and they crashed into it. Later that evening, Rex started whimpering whenever he tried to hop onto the sofa or whenever I picked him up.

The next day the vet informed me that Rex has a touch of arthritis in his knee. However, not enough to explain why he was crying and worrying his left hind leg, which was most likely a soft tissue injury from playing so hard. Much to Tyson's dismay, Rex has been taking it easy and getting plenty of bed rest, which means no playing. Much to my dismay, I've had to carry Rex up and down the stairs. I'd like to say that it's been nice and quiet around here without dogs running, growling, and crashing about, but that wouldn't be true. Instead, all day long I've had to listen to Tyson wandering from window to window, from toy to toy, and then crying every five minutes because he's bored without his favorite toy: Rex.

Luckily, I can tell Rex is feeling much better today. He jumped up on my sofa today without whimpering and seems much happier. However, I'm still not letting him play, because I don't want to undo nature's progress just because he thinks he's better now. Maybe tomorrow. In the meantime Rex helped me wear Tyson out a little while ago assisting me with This Is How We Lay Down lessons, which involves Rex crashing to the floor every time I say Down! and rolling onto his back over and over while Tyson sits next to him with his head cocked, staring at me, obviously saying Down? Huh? I don't get it, for an entire hour.

Dec. 30th, 2008

boy in the box

Rumor had it that Tyson was crate trained, but I think Rumor was sadly mistaken. (Demi, Bruce, and Ashton should have a talk with that girl about lying.) I came home from running errands a few nights ago and found that the mattress in Tyson's crate had exploded. EZ had long ago started the job, Tyson merely finished it off. I can't blame him. There must be nothing more dull than sitting in a crate with nothing to do. But, if he was free to roam in my absence, it could've been my sofa that exploded, or he could've checked out the stove, flipped a knob, and my house might've exploded, and that wouldn't have been fun for any of us.

So I've added crate training to Tyson's "to do" list. The first thing was to move Tyson's crate right next to Rex's. Rex loves his crate. In fact, every dog that drops by loves Rex's crate. As soon as I moved Tyson's crate, he walked over, sniffed it, and then climbed into Rex's crate. It was a start. I tossed a few treats into Tyson's crate. Rex ran in and gobbled them up. Tyson's ears went up, as if to say, What the hell? He ran into his crate, forced Rex out, and sniffed everywhere in hopes of finding a treat. I praised him and tossed in a few treats. The ears went up again, this time obviously saying, Hey! This thing's paying out big time!

The crates are between my desk and my bed, both places where I spent lots of time. Because of this, his crate has become a good place to hang out while I'm working or sleeping. Now he'll go in there to lay down while I'm at my desk and he'll get a treat and lots of praise. And when I go to bed Rex is crate adjacent, so he has company and can see that the whole crate thing is no big deal.

This morning I got up, let Rex out of his crate, let Tyson out of his crate, and then picked up the collars. I put Rex's collar on, and then put Tyson's collar on, and then--Guinness? Guinness had a collar on, but what was she doing in my apartment? Then I remembered that Becky and Mr. Becky went to Alabama today, and must have let Margot and Guinness into my apartment while I was in a coma. I fed Rex and Tyson, fixed my breakfast, and when I came upstairs Margot was curled up in Rex's crate, fast asleep.

Dec. 26th, 2008

break it down again

Now that Tyson has been here for a few days it's become painfully obvious that there's a juvenile delinquent in my house, and I don't mean Rex. Tyson is a little over a year old. As the ubiquitous "they" say, in human years he's about seven years old. Like a seven year old, everything fascinates him and everything must be tested until it breaks, explodes, or screams for mercy. So far, I've caught him wandering around with a wristwatch, a sock, and a television remote control in his mouth. A stuffed rat, a tube of white acrylic paint, and a roll of duct tape have all exploded. And Rex has screamed for mercy on three different occasions. Oh yeah, and a throw pillow was actually thrown.

Putting things out of Tyson's reach is useless, because his legs are freakishly long and he can pretty much reach anything. I'd have to glue everything to the ceiling to keep it from him. This means I've spent the past three days on his tail, watching and waiting for him to touch his nose to anything that shouldn't be touched, at the ready to say a stern NO! when he tries to take something that doesn't belong to him. It seems to be working, because nothing has been destroyed or mysteriously vanished today.

While keeping a stern and watchful eye on him is tiresome, it has impressed upon Tyson that I'm the boss. At first he was very anxious about being here and would run away from me, cowering, when I reprimanded him. But now he'll duck his head sheepishly and walk up to me after I tell him not to do something, ready to given a more productive task, like sitting or laying down, or to be given something he's allowed to chew on, like a bone or Rex's throat.

Fortunately, Rex seems to like Tyson. Unfortunately, Tyson seems to look to Rex for guidance. If Rex sits down, Tyson sits down. If Rex runs to the stairs to see if someone is coming through the front door, Tyson is close on his heels. If Rex jumps on a visitor--wait, what do I mean by "if?" The good thing is that I can use this to my advantage. By working with Rex I can train Tyson by osmosis. Today we went for a walk and, at first, Tyson was all over the place. Off-leash, Rex can act like a retarded kangaroo on speed. But when he's on a leash, Rex is brilliant. I switched them so they were both side by side on my left. After a block, Tyson was following Rex's behavior, and I suddenly had two impressive dogs walking at my side. I'm going to have to work regular walks into our routine.

Because of all this, I'm recommending that Tyson be adopted into a home with an older dog (not a retarded pickle eating kangaroo-dog on speed) that he can look to for guidance. I think he'd love to have kids to follow around. I've gently pulled on his legs and played with his ears while he was sleeping (Don't try this at home, kids!) and he only grinned, stretched, and fell into an even deeper sleep while I did it. I've nudged him with my knee and pet him while he's eating, and he didn't seem to care, which is great. He has no aggressions, as far as I can tell. He's a good boy. Like any kid, he just needs proper guidance.

Dec. 25th, 2008

christmas rappin'

We hope your Christmas is super fine!

Dec. 22nd, 2008

hello and welcome

I have a new foster dog. His name is Tyson. He's a sweet boy. I picked him up a few hours ago from Happy Tails Dog Spa where he was being boarded. He's been roaming my apartment, sniffing everything. He found a tennis ball on one of my bookshelves. It was shelved in non-fiction, biography, which is an odd place for a tennis ball, since I have no books on tennis or players of tennis, but it was mainly there because there hasn't been a dog at The Compound yet who plays with toys. Tyson plucked it from the shelf and carried it around for a while, until he found a bone. He traded the ball for the bone and carried that around for a while, until he found the dog bed, which appears to be the perfect place to chew a bone, because that's where he's been for the past hour.