Over the next couple of days, I pried them out of their kennel and gave them food. Hunger overcame fear but the poor little things fairly trembled when we came near them. They were so small, so alone, and so confused- it was heartrending.

Well, that’s all changed.

The little puddle of tiny helpless puppies has become a pack of predators that would make wolves flee for their lives. Appearing sad and plaintiff at the kennel door, they use their demonic psychic powers to persuade us to let them out to “play.” Then begins their reign of terror.

Nothing is safe. The cord to the blinds has been attacked so often that it just hangs there in mute surrender. Woe to the wayward sock that is stranded on the floor. The pack of little horrors attack and try to rend it pieces. Paper towels are torn to bits by the vicious, ripping teeth. The animals are a chaotic force of nature. They are predation at its worst.

The cats have again retreated to the bedroom. This time it is not out of protest but out of fear. They no longer look down their noses in derision. They keep to the high ground in an effort to avoid the pack’s wrath.

Sam, our Belgian Malinois, is not so lucky. He has no place of safety. He must stand and stolidly face these monsters as they attack him.

It is a horrible sight to see these bloodthirsty predators, some weighing upward of a pound, zoom in for the kill. They rear up almost halfway to Sam’s elbow and pounce on his foot with the skill of natural killers. Sam just takes it, hoping that the pack will eventually show him some mercy. Finally, survival instinct overcomes reason and he foolishly fights back, flipping them over with his nose. The miniature jackals become angered and renew the attack with increased vigor.

What are we to do? We are being held hostage in our own home. The best course of actions seems to be to placate the pack, and avoid its wrath. Thus, I give in to the incessant demands for food, toys and attention. I keep the kennel clean and the water bowl filled. I make myself their slave in an effort to protect my family.

Now all we can so is wait, endure and hope that, someday, these cute, cuddly demon spawn will dupe another unwitting family into taking them in. Until that wonderful day arrives, please pray for us as they prey on us.

The cats have ended their boycott and are now gracing the rest of the house with their regal presence. Sam seems to enjoy curling up for a nap without his little groupie doing everything she can to get his attention. No one is being awakened by puppies protesting constraint in the kennel. The constant battle to keep them from making the house smell like New Jersey is over.

When I come home Emily is not scurrying to be the first one to greet me or sleeping with me, curled up on my pillow (she considered that, not some steel cage, to be her proper place). Scarlett is not trying to drag my fiancé across the room by her nightgown or stealing Sam’s toys. Sora is not taking the more subtle approach of using his soulful eyes to exert mind control on the weak-willed humans.

They came in as little footballs wobbling around, focused on eating and sleeping. They left as fine young animals, strong, happy and full of personality. I consider it a job well done. Trust me, if you had any idea what our household is like, they are prepared for anything a family can throw at them. Except for a stinking, squalling baby. But life should contain some surprises.

While we are still suffering from Empty Kennel Syndrome, the thing that is getting us through is the thought that we did the best we could, we gave them a head start and that there could not be a better place than PAWS to make sure they get a loving forever home.

Sometimes it overwhelms me. Dog fighting,  puppy mills, hoarders, overpopulation and the twisted morons out there hurting animals for fun. What difference can we possibly make?

We can walk a dog at the shelter. We can raise funds sitting in a hot tent all day at a festival. We can hold vaccination clinics and maintain food banks. We can foster puppies. We can only do the best we can.

As we were carrying the pups into the shelter they have become much too big and heavy for their carrier we ran into a lady and her son. They saw the puppies and immediately fell in love. The lady seemed delighted when I told her the pups would be available this weekend. She said they would be back.

I see that as a good sign.

I have raised a lot of young animals to final form yet I am still amazed at how fast the puppies grew. In a matter of five days they went from adorable generic puppies to beautiful miniature versions of the adults they will become. And they are going to be gorgeous. No, I am not saying this just because they are mine.

I look at the scene in my living room. I am on the couch watching TV-  correction, Sam’s couch. One kid is on the computer and the other is playing the Xbox 360. Emily (little black girl) is engaging in her two favorite activities:  being cute and annoying Sam. Sora (brindle boy) and Scarlett (brindle girl) are fiercely battling it out on the floor.

This Norman Rockwell rendering of mundane life is the picture a dog should be part of.  Hanging out and being part of its family’s life. Warm, fat, happy and safe within their pack, interacting with and enjoying the company of their fellows. I am happy for the pups. They started life being discarded like so much trash and now they are here.

However I realize that this is not their life. We are  only giving them a start in the life they should have, but they can’t stay. In a couple of weeks they have to go back to the shelter and wait for a forever home. I know they could not be going to a better adoption center than PAWS. They will be fed and loved and cared for. But a shelter is not a home, a kennel is not a living room and a drastically overworked staff with a lot of dogs to take care can’t lounge on the couch and play “Scratch My Belly.”

How long will they have to live in a kennel? How will Emmy, who loves people, make it at night when the lights are out and no one is around? Who will Sora cuddle with and Scarlett tease and taunt? I know the pups’ adopters will be carefully screened and they will go to good families. Will they be able to stay there? Will the people get to know them like we have and learn to love them like we do?

It is like being a parent watching your children getting ready to leave the nest. You worry about everything and hope for the nothing but the very best. The one significant difference is that you stay in contact with your kids and they can come to you if they need help. These kids can’t. When they leave, chances are we will never know what happens to them.

All we can do is give them love, care and the best start in life that we can. Then we send them off with our hopes and prayers. At least we know we gave them the best start and the best chance that we can. We will never know if it was enough.

But we tried. That’s the best any of us in animal rescue can do. This is a business for the softhearted but definitely not one for the weak hearted.

Being able to fly would be cool. You could get places quickly and without having to deal with being stripped searched by some TSA rent a cop who is on probation herself.

But what are you going to do when you get where you are going? You still have to have money.

"Hey I can fly!"

"Great, it's still $7.50 for the latte."

I suppose you could use flying power to make money. You could smuggle drugs, for example. But that would make it a job. What is so super about that?

Everyone seems to go for the invisibility thing. You could get away with a lot of stuff if no one could see you. The girls locker room comes to mind.

The major drawback is that, while you are invisible, other things are not. You can't steal because the money flowing in midair would be visible. Worse, you could only use your power while naked. That means no being super in Chicago in February. And what are you going to do when you are done being invisible? You would have to go home or some other location where you could stash clothes.

Super strength is great if you want to break things. Xray vision would be lame as I don't find a girl's pancreas to be that exciting. And one accidental glance into the ladies room at a nursing home would do me in. The power to make people fart almost won me over. It would cause endless hilarity but there is a backlash. Especially in Mexican restaurants.

I am going for mind control. Not like hypnotism or fake vampire crap. I mean the ability to truly bend others to my will.

Whatever I wanted, I could get someone else to pay the price for it. Free flights, breaking things, hurting people, girls getting naked, even the fart control thing would all be mine for the asking.

If the person I am controlling has to do something illegal for me, big deal. When they get caught what are they going to say? If the cops do decide to bother me about the 23 pounds of cocaine Miguel left at my door, they may just have a sudden desire to go to the country jail and shower with the guys they put in there.

Obama hands the Presidency over to Sarah Palin then plays Lemming on the Cliffs with all his liberal pals. TV program directors stop with the dumb ass reality shows. Muslim terrorists suddenly think Mohammad wants them to chew off their own nuts. My fiance is really okay with me banging Scarlett Johansen. The potential is endless.

Mind control is the super power to have. Just ask televangelists or any girl with huge knockers.

I can think of plenty of funny things I have heard kids say. Things like “Daddy, why did you tell that lady with the big boobs you didn’t know me?”

But the knee-slapping funniest happened when my friends were teaching their little girl to talk.

The apartment they lived in looked out over the parking lot. When the garbage truck came, the little girl would run to the window to watch the fascinating process of emptying the dumpsters.

As the kid watched the guys, black men, working, the mom would say “Trash! They are taking the trash!”

The little girl would parrot “Trash! Trash!”

One evening we were all at the mall when we came upon a family of black people.

My friends’ little girl pointed at them and started yelling excitedly “Trash! Trash!”

Everyone says the same thing: the thunderstorm that puts the light out will be entertaining. I have to agree with that.

A tornado makes it even cooler. You can only see them coming when the lightning flashes. So you flinch every time the sky lights up. It's better than a Freddy Kruger movie.

The problem is that the power doesn't come back on as soon as the storm ends. Those worthless power company slackers can take hours to get it back on. How hard can it be? Look for wires hanging down, put them back up. Of course they are union so they probably get a two hour coffee break for every time they use electrical tape.

So, while they are sucking down Starbuck's, I have to find something to do.

Mostly what I do is go around the house mindlessly trying to use things that require electricity. "Oh shit, that's right. The (insert noun here) won't work without power."

They tell you to keep a battery powered radio around in case of a blackout.Have you listened to the stuff you can get on a battery powered radio today?Boredom is a better choice. In fact, a coma is a better choice.

I could listen to music on my iPhone. But doing that in the dark without being stoned is really not that appealing. MTV ruined musical imagery.

Masturbation is out since porn on a cell phones is worthless. Unless you have a thing for Lilliputians. Plus there is using one hand to hold it and having to turn the screen back on all the time. Not to mention stumbling around in the dark trying to find tissues.

Oh yes, NEVER have sex just for something to do. The result of that will cost you years of misery and thousands in college tuition.

By the way. How come, when the lights are on, I know where everything in the house is and can unthinkingly go right to it but, in the dark, I may as well have parachuted into an unexplored jungle.

The short answer is that I occupy my time during a power outage by trying to figure out having to occupy my time during the power outage.

It wasn’t dark, stormy or night yet the Universe was poised on the brink of upheaval. Little did it know that one empty condom box during one evening in September would lead to a complete redefinition of physics and order.

I assume I am dead or almost dead if you are reading my memoir. Therefore physics won in the end.

Between the start and the finish, however, is a fascinating story of love, an STD scare, arrest warrants in Haiti, beer, psychotic women and watching TV.

So fill up the whiskey glass, syringe or whatever you are using to get you through my written home movie. Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale….

For those of you who may not know, fostering is taking in a homeless animal that is too young, has an illness or otherwise needs special care that can only be provided in a home/family environment. Once the particular issue is resolved and the animal is adoptable, it goes back to the shelter to wait and hope for a forever home.

In the case of these pups, they, four of their siblings and their mom were abandoned at the shelter. They are old enough to leave mom but, due to the special needs of those so young, they need to grow up a little before they can be adopted. Thus myself and my family have volunteered to take care of them.

The arrival of these furry babies has already had quite an impact on the household.

Before their arrival, I tried to caution my fiance and stepdaughter to not get too attached to them. I told them to get used to the idea that they will be going back to the shelter.

Of course the girls  fell in love with them in about two seconds. “Aw, they are so adorable!” You would think they had given birth to them. And  heaven forbid one of the pups let out the slightest squeak. My daughter’s response would make a fireman envious. I can see there will be much weeping and gnashing of teeth when the day comes for the puppies to leave. It will definitely be a day to enjoy some Wild Turkey and, perhaps, a few Valium.

The cats are disgruntled.  Jezebel does not like kids, dogs or just about anything or anyone else as a general principle. Bringing three more annoyances into the house, let alone babies that are dogs, has pushed her past her limit.

Cafe Au Lait is usually pretty laid back. She was raised around babies and dogs. She even had a family of her own (she is spayed now, of course). But these noisy stinky demanding…things are also too much for her to tolerate. A cat has her limits, you know.

Both cats are now on strike. They have moved to the master bedroom. They demand that their food and water be placed in there and, if you want to have the superior pleasure of interacting with a cat, you must go into their domain without a canine. They will then decide if they will deign to allow to pet them or simply snub you for your insolence. They are the only ones in the house that will relish the day of the puppies” departure.

Sam was also none to happy when the puppies arrived. They were playing on the floor and one grabbed his tug-o-war rope. This did not sit well with him. He took the rope from the pup, carried it across the room, dropped it and came back. He was clearly stating that the pup was to leave his toys alone.

The puppies used their secret power and have won Sam over. Not only are they allowed to play with the toys, they can play with Sam. His head alone is bigger than the pups but he is ever so gentle. The little black girl loves Sam and is jumping and biting at him anytime she can get to him. She is his shadow.  Sometimes Sam seems to be just tolerating the hi-jinks of the little ones and other times he forgets his dignity and reverts to puppyhood himself.

Of course I love dogs and am very much enjoying caring for the pups. Watching them grow and observing their interactions is better than cable. I have been in animal rescue for some time so I am used to getting attached to an animal and having to let it go when it gets adopted. Not that I am coldhearted and will not even notice when the puppies leave but I will probably handle it more pragmatically. I clearly see and understand what is coming.

I find myself promoted to Director of Puppy Operations. Any questions or problems regarding the canine toddlers come to me. Trust me, puppies require a lot more than putting food in one end and cleaning it up when it comes out the other. Puppies are very demanding and do not take “no” for an answer.

As you see the arrival of these tiny creatures has had a big effect on our  household. It is an object lesson regarding what people need to think about before bringing a pet into their lives. They need to consider what it will take to adapt before they take that plunge. If they did, I might not have three puppies curled up warm and happy in my living room that face an unknown future in a concrete and metal kennel.

Mr. Obama, are you a foreign-born socialist Muslim sympathizer?

Of course I would have like three video cameras running

The subject was Advanced Accounting (some of you are already feeling the need for coffee). Not regular accounting but hardcore you really have to have no personality to do it accounting. Which brings us to the teacher.

When an instructor tells you on the first night of class, “We’re going to have fun,” you know the class will about as enjoyable as ice picks in your eyes. When he says it in a dead monotone voice, you seriously consider shopping for ice picks.

I swear on the life of my penis when I tell you that this teacher looked and sounded *exactly* like Ben Stein in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.”

So here I am exhausted, malnourished, spending four hours of my life in class I am being forced to take listening to Ben Stein talk about how amortization can be used to enhance quarterly reverse cash flow!

When I completed that class, I had a celebratory burning of the textbook.