The Pit Bull Breed is Misunderstood.
I could take this time to go on a rant about this misconception and how much it frustrates me. Instead, I will talk about our family Pit (mix) Asher, more affectionately known as Boogie Bear. We adopted Boogie from a local rescue, Wags Rescue and Referral, after the unfortunate and unexpected loss of our previous beloved Pit (mix), Zuko. We went to one of Wags’ adoption events “just to check out their adoption policy,” then we saw Boogie, and my husband fell in love. He said, “that’s our dog.”
Boogie Bear was just over a year old, came to the rescue as a surrender from North Carolina with another dog. Boogie was severely under weight, bearing some not so loving cuts/burns, and named “Black.” When we asked his foster family if he was good with cats, he responded, “I don’t know, lets check,” and brought him to a cage of cats, for which he had no interest. “Is he house broken?” “Yea. Well. He did pee ON my dog once, but I think that’s just because he wanted to.” Ah, a dog after my own heart. He must be ours! We have had Boogie since the fall of 2013, an d we could not have asked for a more loving, patient, sweet and (as you can see) handsome man. That being said, he’s a big wuss. Papa Bear and I often giggle over the things that our perceived DANGEROUS Pit Bull is terrified of, and I wanted to share with my subscribers.
How a Mama Bear Becomes a Mom Blogger…
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Welcome! Thank you for reading the very first post of Memoirs of a Mama Bear (my journey into Mom Blogging), please take a moment and subscribe to receive notifications about upcoming posts! Well, now that we’re all here, let me first thank my friends and family who are inevitably reading this post out of obligation. (HI GUYS! Thanks for the support!) But, for those of you who don’t know me personally, I am Mama Bear, a title that has recently taken on new meaning for me. My husband (Papa Bear), has been calling me Mama Bear for as long as I can remember; however, recently we created a little baby bear of our own. Now, it’s no longer a quirky little nickname my husband calls me that needs to be explained to those weirdos who don’t consider having fur children as valid parenthood…Monsters.
I decided to start this blog due to my own late night web scouring during my pregnancy and first few weeks of being a sleepless new mom. As many women have complained before, pregnancy kind of sucks. Its not “beautiful and magical” or whatever other line people have fed you. I mean its totally cool that you’re growing a tiny human all by your onesie but, you don’t sleep, you pee like a gagillion times, and the hormones, GAH the blind prenatal rage put my normal every day rage to shame! I found myself being “that” girl, the midnight googler, searching for an explanation of why my left pinky toe turned purple or my wrist smelled like pickles (gross over exaggeration, if this happens during your pregnancy you may want to consult your physician). While many times Web Md made it feel like me and my unborn child had some ancient form of leprosy, the interweb mom bloggers normalized my experiences, and I could find at least one post or comment of someone else who experienced something similar, easing my worried mind.