MY TWO BULLY-BREED SERVICE DOGS (Part-1)

       I don't know how many times we have to be told that Pitbulls are more than just a dog. These tactile, caring, ever so eager to please dogs have been discovered to make excellent therapy dogs as well. Such is the case with Samantha & John Schwartz of Long Neck, Delaware, USA. They both suffer from certain "Anxiety Conditions."Samantha herself suffers from "Bipolar Depression" but that's not all, chronic migraines along with a social solicitude condition.
        Sadly, Samantha was hearing voices in her head, and finding ways to harm herself, even by cutting her wrists! She felt by harming herself the voices would go away because subconsciously she was hearing that she wasn't worth living and she was a waste of space.
        On the advice of her doctor, she was advised to get a "Therapy Dog" however these dogs ranged in prices up to $20,000. Sam decided why not just go and rescue a dog that needs a good home. This dog would be her long-term friend and companion, someone she could confide in. Thus, Sam began an intensive search online for such an animal but to no avail did not find what she was looking for.
        In 2012, Samantha and her husband John came upon two "therapy type dogs" themselves to alleviate some of her on-going medical-related problems.Fate smiled upon them when they decided to move from their flood-ravaged mobile trailer, and found two Pitbulls named "Abby" and "Dylan." this idea just seemed to be the anecdote to both of their issues.
        Their landlord at the time, owned two very well trained Pitbulls, as he had been a police officer himself at one time.He gave them to the young couple, due to the fact where he was moving, did not allow dogs. He felt that due to their medical issue and whatnot, these special dogs could have a new forever home with them and a real purpose in their family.
        In the state of Delaware, the bylaw regarding service dogs, is such, that you don't have to have them trained by a professional, but that you can actually train them yourselves.So through very little time, working with "Abby" and "Dylan" it just seemed that they were naturals for the enormous task.Not only were this Pitbulls receptive to a little bit of tender loving tweaking but they excelled in areas never even dreamed of. Abby an amazing "service dog" is now half of the Schwartz family nanny, babysitter, pet, along with therapy companion.(Dylan is discussed in Part-2 of the blog next week)
        The results speak for themselves, as Samantha has become more confident in talking to people, making new friends with "Abby" always by her side. Basically, she assists Samantha in maintaining a normal life, instead of being a "shut-in" which she was prior to "Abby's" arrival.
        This caring dog pushes Sam when she needs it most. Especially, when she is throwing up in the bathroom from her constant chronic migraines, this Pitbull is there laying beside her, helping her get through it.
         As she visits her doctor, not only is "Abby" allowed to go in with her but participates in the examining process with Samantha. The result is that Sam doesn't take as much as the anxiety medication she needed before. As for "therapy councilling" that is pretty much non-existent now due to the fact this lady has someone she can confide and talk to.
        When she was going through a very difficult pregnancy for fear of losing the baby, from a possible miscarriage, Abby was there to nurse her through it.Back then, Samantha was to abstain from sudden movements and resolved to bed-rest due to her maternal condition. Abby lay beside her, on her lap almost the whole time. If she had to get up, her ever-so-faithful therapy dog was there, walking right beside her. The only time they were separated was when she gave birth to her son.
         After eight days of being away from home, it was a welcome relief to find her Abby waiting for her when she arrived. It didn`t take this dog very long to jump right back into her "service dog role"
        When the clocked ticked to nurse the newborn baby, Abby was once again positioning herself on Sam`s lap. This dog was actually sitting in such a way to enable herself reinforcement beneath the baby, should Samantha fall asleep while nursing.In fact, this did happen quite a few times, but again Abby assisted in keeping the baby in her arms.So as it was, this dog became a "Nanny dog" of sorts into her many roles involved in the family.
         Then tragedy struck, in the Schwartz family on two occasions which added to even more stress in Sam's life. Her favorite aunt had been diagnosed with "Stage 4" Lung Cancer but Abby just seemed to sense her anxiety once again. Add to that an even more emotional state of uneasiness when her sister was diagnosed with NMO.
         Neuromyelitis, also known as Devic's Disease or Devic's Syndrome is a heterogeneous condition.This consists of the simultaneous inflammation and demyelination of the optic nerve.(optic neuritis) Unfortunately, it also includes the spinal cord (myelitis) and can be monophasic and recurrent.
         Although the inflammation can also affect the brain, lesions are different from that of Multiple Sclerosis.Spinal cord lesions lead to varying degrees of weakness in the legs and arms.There is a loss of sensation, including blindness.Sadly, another condition immediately occurs in the loss of bladder and bowel control.Simultaneously, this disease attack the brain and immune system.Thankfully, Samantha's sister Essie is now getting chemotherapy for her condition.Nonetheless, although her condition is stable, and the fact she has lost all her hair, the chemo will not take it away. Despite all of the bad luck that has befallen

them, the Schwartz are so very grateful for their true therapy Pitbull dogs "Abby and Dylan"

     
       The first pic is Samantha along with Abby. The second pic is "Dylan" with Samantha.The third pic is Dylan laying on top of Abby, The Fourth pic is Abby is front and Dylan in the back. The fifth pic is the same.These amazing "therapy Pitbull Dogs are "Dylan and Abby" from Long Neck, Delaware, USA



















     

PITBULL OWNERS SPEAK

         This week I decided to do something a little out of the box. I am the administrator plus half of the founding originator of Pitbull Trucking (my wife Teryl is the other half) I often get little stories sent to me from true Pitbull owners.
         For instance, Maggie Santiago from Richardson Texas recently wrote to me about her experience with the "Bully Breed" Apparently her oldest daughter breeds and shows American Pitbull Terriers. Not only that, but she is a judge as well for the ADBA sanctioned shows. Her youngest daughter, as well as herself, has helped with the fitness training for confirmation shows along with weight pulling competitions.
         Maggie has also assisted in the whelping and caring of multiple litters. Since moving to Texas, three years ago, she has found herself enlightening people on responsible ownership of dogs in general. However, there is always some uneducated, ignorant person, commenting to her on the misinformation about Pitbulls.
          Tracy Rehmel recently sent me an amazing story of her Pitbull dog "Junior" They recently saved a "Korean Jindo" who was rescued from a "Korean Dog Meat Farm" They used Junior for this to teach her, with his calm disposition and gentle personality. Junior showed this rescue dog how to be a real mutt. Tracy walks with them together on a leash with Junior by her side.
          Unfortunately, like all rescue dogs of one sort or another, Hope has quite a bit of trauma due to the previous torture, she sustained at the hands of Korean dog handlers. This is because these dogs go through such a large amount of trauma due to the fact they are about to going to be slaughtered!

It seems that Junior is teaching Hope to not be so afraid of things, plus he shows a real interest in her and protects her.

Robert Lower is 68 years old from Warren, Ohio is a Vietnam War Vet from 1969 and 1970. Surprisingly, he not only owns 5 dogs but one of them is actually a Pitbull! he adopted his "Sleepy" as another one of those ill-forgotten rescue dogs. She was used for dog fighting and her face was all cut up when he got her. He is proud to say that he has had her for about 10 years now and of all the dogs he owns, she is his favorite.Sleepy is very tactful and of course, always has to be beside Robert or touching him. Robert was heavily involved in combat in the Vietnam war and was subjected to the dreaded "Agent Orange" which occurred in Saigon. His story is one of many, where he had met a Viet Cong girl that he fell in love with. Unfortunately, due to the war at the time, he lost track of her, from being stationed elsewhere. Despite it all, Sleepy has been there for his emotional torment and trauma he endured for the last decade. Sadly, like a good many "War Vets" Robert lives in the basement of a home, where in talking to him, I am afraid to say the accommodations are less than adequate.

Robert has even run a marathon back on December 1, 1991, among his many accomplishments. He even received a medal of commendation after he returned from the war as well.

Regrettably, Robert lost his own Father to "Agent Orange" suffering from Alzheimers and Parkinsons Disease. At the time, he was a nursing student, who found a lot of the medications that the VA prescribed as complete useless bullshit! in his words.

The first pic is of Robert Lower's pitbull mix, Sleepy rescued from a dog fighting ring.The map clearly shows where Robert was stationed during the Vietnam War of 1969 and 1970.

This picture is from the 1991 Marathon Robert ran in Memphis, Tennessee at a time of three hours and fourteen minutes. Robert for all you have done, and in great service to your country of the United States of America, Pitbull Trucking, salutes you!

DOG FIGHTING EXPOSED!

         Finally, I found a topic related to the whole pitbull thing that I am very passionate about. I wrestled with this thing for quite a few weeks, but then I decided it needs to be said. In fact, if this was never found out, I truly believe the whole negative stereotyping of the "Bully Breed" would not have contributed to all the additionally horrifying propaganda out there of the Pitbull.
        We can thank that retired "has been", former NFL Football Player, Michael Vick for bringing dog fighting to the forefront of the international news. Back then, the Atlanta Falcons were involved in a huge scandal involving their highly touted quarterback, Michael Vick. Eventually, Vick admitted to his involvement in an illegal dogfighting ring.
         These Pitbulls and a substantial amount of evidence of a large-scale dogfighting ring were discovered in a wooden barn behind Vick's home. Atlanta Police had rescued these dogs from the "Bad Newz Kennels on Vick's property. These dogs were never born fighters but were instead manipulated into this.Vick's handlers used treadmills, whips, and even chains to get these poor dogs to fight! Not only did the Investigators find real evidence of dogfighting equipment but also the remains of eight executed dogs. These were dogs that had lost in the fighting pit and were either shot, hanged, drowned or electrocuted.
         For weeks, Vick denied knowing anything about it, but on April 25, 2007, Animal Control Officers seized 54 Pitbulls from Vick's 15 acres, Virginia property. The evidence in question was alarming. Shed and walls of these barns had been painted black to keep the compound hidden from view during nighttime dog fights. When the public found out about the atrocity done to these animals, the only question that remained was could these damaged dogs be rehabilitated. Unfortunately, most of the general public saw the Vick's surviving dogs as a dangerous threat to safety. Even prominent members of Animal Rights Groups believed they were too damaged to be saved. They advocated that these dogs needed to be put down so they could not harm anyone.
         Best Friends Society decided that the canines in question could be rehabilitated, even if they had to be taught to be trained to kill. Campaigns were started in the United States to save these dogs from euthanasia.After hearing both sides, the courts decided to save the controversial dogs. As for Michael Vick, he eventually did admit his part into the dog fighting ring and was convicted on all counts of the dogfighting charges. He was sentenced to 23 months in a Kansas prison for running a cruel and inhumane dogfighting ring and lying about it. In the end, it was discovered this piece of human excrement not only financed the diabolical venture but took part in the gambling of these defenseless animals.It absolutely astounds me though that Vick only ended up doing 18 months and actually got to play football again in the NFL. Not only that, but he recently was allowed to purchase a dog for his kids.
          It's a horrific thought to take a dog that is so loyal and willing to please to put them in a situation where they have to fight for their life! If you ask me, it's not only sickening, demented but it angers me to know what these dogs were put through.
          On an episode of "Houston Animal Cops", they rescued about 15 Pitbulls from another one of the many dogfighting rings in that city. The unnamed animal shelter there murdered each and every one of them for the reasons that they were extreme fighting dogs, that posed a real threat to society. Despite conversations with Animal Control Officers stating the dogs were real sweet and loveable. The behavior
of the A.S.P.C.A. was at the very least, unconscionable, that they would euthanize these dogs without even a thought of rehabilitation. Even PITA, the so-called most extreme animal lovers campaigned to have every Pitbull from that fighting ring put down. Funny, how after the terrible deed was done the A.S.P.C.A. called it "Humanely Euthanised." This was a nice way to disguise senseless murder of these animals. At no time, after the dogs were seized, did they show any signs of human aggression towards their so-called saviors. Despite the fact,  there were various foster organizations willing to step in to save and rehabilitate these dogs.
        On a lighter note, here is an excerpt taken from my fourth book "The Final Mile" Here we relive some of the best moments with our dearly departed red-nosed merle Pitbull, Sampson. Enjoy and have a great week!

        The next day I left for what would become a very long trip to “The Big Easy.” It started out okay and despite Sam’s missing Carol, he too seemed to enjoy the journey. Most of the time he would sit in Carol’s seat just gazing out the passenger window as the miles went by. I would stop by and park at rest-stops as well as truck stops and let Sam out for short walks. We met many dog-lovers who also owned Pitbulls, and there was not a single dog that Sam could not interact with socially. Every dog that our “laid-back Sam” met seemed to like him, and he just gave the impression to everybody that nothing ever bothered him. However, Sampson would carry himself like a dog on a mission when you walked him, he was forever sniffing everything in sight and very calm around other people near him as well.

         The next day I had made good time in getting to my first drop in Denver Colorado, but this time I didn’t have to break down the different flavors of the gluten-free cookies. Our next drop was going to be in Cleburne Texas which was a few days away. However, when I had made it just about an hour past Childress on US 287 South, all hell broke loose. I was shifting down to get on another different route according to my GPS in the truck. Shockingly, when I went to shift down, I couldn’t, the shifter had interlocked itself and here I was doing a good 100 miles or so. From my time long hauling I didn’t panic, but just applied direct brake pressure to slow Barney down.  I cautiously pulled over to the side of the road and put on the four-ways cursing at this truck I was driving. I immediately called D & P Truck lines but the dam answering machine recording came on. I left a message and waited for somebody to call me back. About an hour went by and my cell phone began to ring, furthermore it was Stan Deman calling me. He asked me a bunch of useless questions and said he would call the nearest tow truck company in the area where I was stranded. It took another couple of hours until I finally saw the amber and blue flashing lights of a rather large tow-truck. The tow-truck driver told me Sampson would have to stay in the truck that was being towed as his boss didn’t allow Pitbull-type dogs in their truck. I put it quite bluntly to him, that if Sam wasn’t riding in the front of this truck, I wouldn’t ride with him either. Well, the tow-truck driver said that wasn’t allowed as it was company policy and my rebuttal to him was screw the company policy! So, in the end, he let Sampson ride up in the front with me, as we headed for their yard at Wichita Falls which was about 45 minutes away. He dropped “Barney” there, as well as the trailer and took us to the nearest place to stay for the night. I ended up checking Sam and me into a Best Western Hotel, where I used Stan’s credit card number he had given me. The next day it was a sweltering 106 degrees Fahrenheit in Wichita Falls Texas, even too hot for Sam to even go outside and do his business. Mostly for the day, I kept him inside the motel room I was staying in. I did let him out in the afternoon, but within a matter of minutes he was panting, and much overheated. Even though dogs were not allowed in the swimming pool there, I defied the sign and placed him in the cool inviting water. I’m sure the various tourists vacationing there were not amused, but I truly didn’t give a flying crap! My dog was too hot for his health so I did something about it. Approximately 15 minutes later, I was told by some motel worker that I had to get the dog out of the pool immediately. There was Sampson dog-paddling around an empty pool as everybody was afraid to go into it with him just because he was a Pitbull, go figure? Now to say getting Sam out of the water was easy would be grossly underestimated. I had to go back into the pool after him, and literally drag him out of the water.  when I would finally get him out of the water, he would shake himself off, run around the opposite end as I was running after him, just as I thought Sam was going to stop and wait for me to take him out of the pool, he would run down into the watery steps and walk right back for the third time.  I had to repeat the same process once more when I went to go get him out of the water, again he would shake himself off. Then he would run around the opposite side now when I would be chasing him to come back to me. However, Sam would run back down the steps, flipside into the water at least until I finally grabbed him by the back of his neck and dragged him out of the water and out of the fenced area. I grabbed a towel and dried him off as best as I could.  I led him back to our hotel room, where he proceeded to mess the bed, rolling around in the blankets like he always did after his baths at home. That evening I would walk over to the “What-A-Burger” drive-in restaurant next door and ordered Sampson up a small cheeseburger and fries. I did the same, only my burger was much larger with a large Strawberry Milkshake. It didn’t matter much because when I got back to my motel room, not only had Sampson wolfed down his food but he still wanted some more of mine. You know, of course, I didn’t deny him some of the burger and in the end of the evening; he chewed up another quarter of my meal.

   

                                                 A FORMER PITBULL OWNER SPEAKS

   

         I am new to this group but wanted to share a little of my Story...This is my Whitey aka White Man..He crossed over the Rainbow Bridge 12/29/16.He was my Baby and was 11yrs old and had some major health problems that he couldn't overcome. His pitbull fighting spirit was to fight, so we obliged him but in the end, we couldn't save my Whitey. He tried and fought and we fought to save him, but alas he could not get past it, so he had to go and we had to let him go. Even in his darkest hours, you would have never known he was sick just by looking at him because he didn't want you to know and most of all he didn't want to hurt us.He was the epitome of "The best dog ever and the dog that anyone would want to have".He was kind, gentle, loving, goofy, and funny. He loved his Human Mommy and Daddy and Brothers but most of all he was protective over his Family and he WAS MINE..He had my heart and I had his.When I lost my Daddy a little over a year ago on Oct 25th he was always there to lick my tears away then on Nov.25th exactly a month later I lost my Momma from a long battle with Cancer and once again Whitey was by my side. Never once did I have to hear him say "dry your tears up and move on" he was there and that was just it .He was there showing me nothing but unconditional love and never judged me for the all the tears that fell daily he would just sit there beside me until he knew I was ok and even then he didn't want me to move...I miss him so terribly bad my heart hurts but I know he will be there to meet me when I am called leave this earth. There with the unconditional love my boy had for me as I did for him and there to give me the best sloppy doggy kisses ever that only he could give to me and he will not ever have to lick my tears away again because we will never have to cry or cry for each other again...RIP MY BIG BOY!!

         The story you just read is true, and just like thousands of Pitbull Owners/ Bully Breed lovers out there, we all mourn for our lost family members. There is not a day that goes by that my wife Teryl and I do not think of our Sampson, one of the most humanistic dogs I have ever known. In fact, we still have his ashes on top of the fridge in a silver colored box with his name on it. But I cannot help but think about our original Pitbull and Black Lab cross mix, Shadow, who really was the grandfather of Pitbull Trucking, our site as it has come to be.It is simply amazing and extremely real how a canine can touch you very soul and heart. I wanted to post that, because as we were picking the music for our upcoming musical tribute memorial of the pitbulls my followers have lost, this struck a chord with me.

         When I see these pictures everyday that come across my desk, I wish people like Mayor Dennis Codere of Montreal, could read and see these photographs of true bully breed people. I wish the Mayor of Dallas Texas, could see the pain on all those people on Dowdy Ferry Road that find dead animals mutilated and killed for no apparent reason, to actually tell the truth for one bloody single moment in their pathetic materialistic lives. I wish that every good Torontonian in Ontario, could own these wonderful dogs without persecution because of the way they look. I wish the media would stop glamourizing another dog attack and label it a pitbull attack. I wish all those ridiculous BSL areas in the whole dam world, would stop and change their archaic anal laws towards this breed. I wish all those people out there torturing animals, would suffer a slow painful, agonizing death, and end up in Hell, where they truly belong. My hope is the `Michael Vicks`of the world that promote dog fighting are brought to justice and incarcerated forever. We need to change all laws involving the cruelty and inhumane ways animals are treated, with larger fines and longer jail terms.

          People often ask me, why we are called Pitbull Trucking, and let me tell you folks, it has really nothing at all to do with trucking. Ironically we started this thing, over 5 years ago, when I trucked with our dog Sampson. We used to come across many of our fellow truckdrivers that owned the pitbull breed dog. At first, we would post various pictures on our site for Sampson`s friends, brothers and sisters. We would post pictures of the latest big rig, or show truck parked in a truckstop we went by. Many truckers, we would friend on facebook and they in turn would go to our site, and post their pictures of pitty comrades on the road. But then something unforseen happened, Sampson`s Pyodermas flared up, and he would break out. We tried to combat the disease with special mediacted shampoo and shots of Covenia which were very hard on his heart and liver. On Jan 23, 2014, we said goodbye to our dear Sampson as his liver finally gave out. Unfortunately, I was up north of Fort McMurray running a crew bus, for the oilpatch when I got the phone call from my wife that we all dread.

          By the end of the day, I had driven through a stop sign, with passengers in my bus because I was devastated of losing such a beloved family member. I wept uncontrollably for that week, and finally by the end of the month, I was off to another job closer to home. As for my wife Teryl, she grieved for two years, until she could finally open her heart to another pitbull that so needed our help, love and attention.Yes we have lived it, and understand all the pain and loss a bully breed owner is going through. That is why we honor Sampson, by calling our site Pitbull Trucking. The only thing I can say is never ever say you`ll never get a pitbull again after he or she passes away.Honor your pitty dog by getting another one that can love you as you love it.

I am going to include another excerpt from one of my upcoming books `The Final Mile`` I wrote and yes a great many of those chapters involved our Sampson, have a great week!        

       When we had made it to the Florida state line, I stopped into a nearby rest-stop that was just off the I-95 Interstate.The first thing we both saw was a long chain of larger fresh-looking palm trees surrounding the whole area.I saw this oversized  “Welcome to Florida, The Sunshine State” sign near the entrance of the rest-stop as Carol handed me Sam’s leash along with him. He jumped down off the steps of the truck along with my help and shook his head like he always did when he began to walk. It didn’t take Sam long to find out where he wanted to be either, as his yellow mural eyes set their sights on a smaller lake nearby. Sam quickly started prancing towards the waterline just off the grassy shore. That dog immediately made a bee-line into the smaller lake oblivious of to what was beneath it.Sam started ruffling around with his front paws at the rocks he could see through the clear blue water. As for me, I just continued to hold his leash from the shore because he was so wrapped up in moving the small rocks and pebbles around with his front paws. That was Sam’s thing; he loved walking around in the water digging out the rocks as he would find the ones he was specifically enthralled with. After about 45 minutes had passed, I pulled him back in, removed his collar and the leashAfterall, I knew Sam just wanted to explore further, so I let him have his freedom. Even though the lake was situated very close to the interstate, I wasn’t worried about Sam swimming off anywhere either. He was too immersed with his rocks, mud and pebbles to care about anything else. That dog was now in his seventh heaven as he was the happiest I had ever seen him that day. I filmed some of his best moments, doing what he loved best, playing in the water. When Carol had got back from the washroom, she too watched Sampson with awe and wonderment. Finally we had to get going, so I rinsed him off and towelled him dry at the truck. As usual after every type of bath, when he got back into “Barney” he jumped back on our bed in the sleeper. Then he did what he always had done, and that’s rip, snort rolling around madly in our blankets. After we were on the road, it didn’t take Sampson long before he had fallen fast asleep sprawled out on the sleeper bed. That dog could snooze for hours as long as he could hear our voices while he slept.

        You could sure tell we were getting closer to “the magic city” too as I would drive by the large walls full of overgrown lush dark green foliage. Not to mention, Carol taking snapshots of the sights of Miami on what had become a very dark, dreary and overcast morning. Just after one o’clock in the forenoon, the sun began to shine, and I couldn’t help but stop by one of the roadside stands. I think the giant stuffed man-sized alligator in the cage on a wagon first caught my eye. There was this huge Orange and Blue sign underneath the enclosure that said “We Ship Fruit” Now Taking Orders” Well the first thing I did was take a picture of what was packed to the gunwales in the confine. You better believe we took additional photos there too, but inside was even better.  A ways in the back, there was this 13 foot, 6 inch alligator perched way up on an enormous platform. At one time this gator was alive weighing in at a startling 800 lbs. His age when he had been killed was somewhere between 40 to 50 years old. This gator had been caught near Orange County Florida on the outskirts of the city of Orlando. Also with this display was all these smaller tiny alligator heads, key chains of gator claws, as well as a collage of touristy t-shirts on the back walls. It was definitely worth taking pictures of for future memories. Now you may think that all those dead gator heads, as well as the stuffed gator was inhumane, but as a matter of fact the Florida Game Commission supports it. 

       The gator population is so out of control that every September annually; they allow people to hunt these reptiles for sport and food due to the overabundance of them breeding in this large sparse area. Not only had the American Alligator become a threat to itself, but also an extreme risk to people living in Florida, as well as Louisiana too.

       Later I stopped by to fuel up at a local truck stop for the night as well as rest and food until the next morning. I took Sampson on a walk in his new orange and black booties, due to the pavement being still quite hot for his pads on his paws. It was a bit comical to see him try and walk with these things, but after about five or ten minutes, he was starting to get the hang of it. I think in another life Sampson must have been a bloodhound because that dog would just about sniff everything in sight. After about an hour or so, I picked him up and placed our dog in the truck for a nice long nap. 

        In the morning we headed for the Port of Miami to deliver these gluten-free cookies to “Disney Cruise Ship Lines” there. Both Carol and I were absolutely shocked to find the extremely tight and dirty looking docks at one of the buildings I was to parked at. Next, I had Carol go inside the warehouse with me to stack various flavors on separate pallets. It seemed like we were forever plagued doing this with this new company I was working for, so it became a real pain in the ass! Surprisingly, you could not imagine more deplorable conditions to house these special gluten-free cookies. Surprisingly, we actually saw these rather large rat traps that were situated in the corner floors of the warehouse. Carol just looked at me and I shook my head in complete disgust. After a good hour came by and went, I was off to my next drop off in Tampa Bay which was about a four hour drive Northwest of Miami.

      If there was a city that I would ever live in Florida, Tampa Bay was definitely it. Not only was it clean, but the architecture was modern but also Spanish flavored as well. I ended up driving over to the main “Port in Tampa Bay” there and parking “Barney” into a dock. While we waited to get unloaded, again I took Sampson out for a walk along the pavement of the port. Once again I had to put on his booties due to the scorching heated pavement

. He didn’t seem to mind though as all he wanted to do was get out and prance around in them. Sampson had quite mastered walking around in the clumsy booties and actually seemed to be enjoying the crisp clean ocean air as well. The water was a spectacular sapphire blue as the hot Florida sun shone upon it. There were all kinds of seagulls flying in and around there, but Sampson didn’t seem to mind. Carol stayed busy making herself a coffee and rolling some cigarettes back in the truck, as well she had purchased a book at a truck stop awhile back so she started reading it being content for now.