Some 25 years ago, we noticed a fluffy white poodle approach a pack of loose dogs we had complained about it. As we desperately scrambled to get out the door to try to save the poodle, the pack killed it. The owner, who had been running after the poodle since it slipped out to door, arrived seconds later. I can still close my eyes and run the whole awful tape.

My current county's animal control is really aggressive, which I think is great.

"Sell by" dates deliberately have a lot of margin. On pretty much everything, I go by looking and smelling.

All of which is true except for when the dog runs out of their yard and is tearing between yards and I'm forced to keep Jas at a sit while the owners chase after their dogs and try to retrieve them.

And like I said, I get the stinkeye for having the temerity to walk my dog past theirs.

Sounds like Jas has a new mission, here, Barb. Get her the packback. Stuff it with flyers about the local leash laws. Hand out a flyer to every neighbor that gives you the stinkeye. Smile smugly and walk on.

I am a milk sniffer and taster. And I eat my eggs sunny side up when I cook because I tend to break the yolks. And I touch raw chicken! I've been known to sniff bacon and hamburger, too. You know why we have so little resistance to disease anymore? We purify everything, including our food. You gotta put bugs in your immune system to train them to look for bad stuff! Yeah, you may get a little sick, but it's a trade off. Strong immune system or rampant asthma, take your pick.

I had salmonella in my formative years (lost the WHOLE SUMMER between 3rd and 4th grade) so I am unfortunately, really weird about food spoilage. Almost 30 years later, I am now finally able to sniff (sometimes).

I figure if the milk doesn't currdle in my tea in the morning it's still good. I'm with Jessica in that it always smells off to me.

As far as leftovers are concerned, everything gets chucked 3 days after it was cooked.

Oh, it says "use until" here, with an expiration date. Maybe because we have enough controversies as is.

Unrelated, I can usually know by the smell about 2-4 days before the milk goes sour. I'm very sensitive to certain smells, hence, can't stay in a shoe store or a drugstore for a long time.

I'm totally a milk date #2 person. I vaguely recall reading somewhere that 10 days past the sell-by date is the cutoff, and so far the 10 day rule has never done me wrong.

All throughout my childhood we had a rotating cast of cats and dogs (and the occasional guinea pig and one rabbit), all very haphazardly introduced to one another and all doing just fine, except the one wee vile-tempered black cat who wasn't right in the head, who fiercely and bloodily hated everybody and everything without prejudice or preference. Naturally, she was the longest-lived of all our pets, by a good 5 years.

And in So Nice Of You of the day: someone started firing, from the side of the Syrian border, on an IDF patrol. (the patrol was, of course, within Israeli territories).

What is it with people and making this situation becoming even more complicated?

And in So Nice Of You of the day: someone started firing, from the side of the Syrian border, on an IDF patrol.

Oy. Well, at least it looks like it was just some random person, and not something organized?

I definitely walk on the wild side when it comes to externally prescribed expiration dates. And clothing sizes, for that matter. I'm very much of the 'just see if it works' school of thought. I can think of exactly one time when that policy with food turned out badly for me.

What also drives me nuts is when people allow their small dogs to run amok because they're small, and therefore behavior that would be unacceptable in a larger dog is downgraded to "cute."

This is one of my biggest peeves. Smaller, older, or fluffier dogs are somehow exempt from manners? Nuh and uh. For one thing, willfulness and aggression are conversely proportionate to size in my experience. It's the smaller ones that need more training and attention than their larger and mellower counterparts.

Living in the urban center, we don't get dogs just running very much. We DO however, have masses of out of control, under-exercised and confused dogs lunging at the end of retractable leashes. Makes me nuts. And, invariably, the people who scream at me to get Bartleby on a leash are the ones who can't control their own dogs.

The last time this happened, I was a total bitch. A mom pushing a stroller and yet paying no attention to her dog OR her baby as she was glued to her cell phone, reacted very angrily when her on-leash dog lunged after Bartleby and caused her to interrupt her phone call. She yelled at me. I stopped, snapped my fingers and gave Bartleby the non-verbal signal to return to my side. He ran about 10 feet, circled me and sat down next to me. I calmly stared at her and asked, "Would you like me to teach you how to do that? Here is my card." She stared. Paused. Then mumbled something that I couldn't hear, but included the word 'law', and stumbled off wrenching her dog after her.

I felt really sorry for the dog, to be honest. Everytime I saw them, the person was on the phone, with or without the baby, and treated the dog like having to walk her was a huge burden.

They have moved and been replaced by a wonderful Doxie mix named Hazel who is a adorable...if a little undisciplined.

Well, at least it looks like it was just some random person, and not something organized?

Looks like it.

ION, omnis' brownies made me want to marry him.
And I need to clean. And then read. A lot. Muuuffff.