RoBBeer75

Life long Newcastle fan .#Nufc
Season ticket holder . Bleed black and white .
Fifa ps5 and twitch streamer for fun.
Do You Even Lift Bro

[RoBBeer75 @robrenwick]

@NUFC Everyone needs a fabian schar 🖤🤍

[The Ricky Gervais Clips @gervaisclips]

The single greatest moment to have happened on live television. 🔥

[Feargal Sharkey @Feargal_Sharkey]

I need 100,000 signatures to win a parliamentary debate about the ownership of the water industry.

Do your thing internet.

https://t.co/kZz1cXBtz3

[Green Planet @Elizabeth_Ruler]

True.

[The Ricky Gervais Clips @gervaisclips]

“You found it offensive? I found it funny. That's why I'm happier than you.” - Ricky Gervais

[The Ricky Gervais Clips @gervaisclips]

“Animals don't have a voice. But I do. A loud one. I'm a fucking big mouth. My voice is for them. And I'll never shut up while they suffer.” - Ricky Gervais

[The Ricky Gervais Clips @gervaisclips]

"If the kindest souls were rewarded with the longest lives, dogs would outlive us all.” - Ricky Gervais

[Ricky Gervais @rickygervais]

This annoys all the right people.

[The Husky @Mr_Husky1]

"This is Ted he is a 96 year old WW2 veteran. He came into my pub today for his lunch. I couldn't help but notice his medals I just had to go and ask him about his life and say thank you for his service to our country. He became really overwhelmed and cried. He said 'thank you young man no one cares about what I have to say anymore.'

I told him that I'm sure there are so many people that do. Can we all please like and share this post and show him just how many of do care about our veterans and prove to Ted he's not forgotten. I will show him this post when he comes back for his dinner next week."

Credit - animal discovery

[LeftAtOrion @LeftAtOrion]

I know everyone’s watching Cheltenham, but the 16:50 at Fakenham was incredible, never seen anything like it 😳
More importantly gutted about Envoi Allen. A legend of a horse in the true sense. #Fakenhamraces #Horseracing #britishhorseracing #Attheraces @ggcouk

[Rotations @RotationsNRatio]

Tottenham getting relegated and Cundy has managed to get O’Hara to leave the studio on TalkSport. We might be looking at an all timer sports bar 🤣🤣

[J.K. Rowling @jk_rowling]

@bindelj Call me wildly idealistic, but I like to think we'll one day have a PM who gives a shit about protecting the rights and safety of girls and women.

[dominic dyer @domdyer70]

Me too

[dominic dyer @domdyer70]

Well said Ricky @rickygervais @PeterEgan6

[KRY @KeanuReevesYaga]

When people begin to talk about kindness toward animals, someone often says that hungry and abused children should come first.This is not an issue that can be divided in that way. It is not a choice between children and animals.We have a responsibility to care both.

[Michelle Maxwell ™ @MichelleMaxwell]

The neighbors call the cops on my dad every six months. They think he’s running a fighting ring or flipping pets for profit. For years, I wasn't sure they were wrong.

My father, Frank, is a man of few words and even fewer friends. He lives on a fixed income in a small, weathered house just outside of town. He’s 68, walks with a limp he got in ’71, and spends most of his day in his garage.

But his most controversial habit involves the local animal shelter.

Like clockwork, Dad brings home a dog. Not the cute puppies everyone wants. He picks the "unadoptables." The three-legged pit bulls, the senior labs with gray muzzles, the curs that cower in the corner. For six months, that dog lives like royalty. I’d visit and see Dad hand-feeding them steak scraps, walking them for hours, talking to them in a soft voice he never used with me.

Then, six months later? Gone.

The dog vanishes. No photos, no collar left behind. Just an empty bowl and Dad driving his rusted pickup truck to the shelter to get another one.

"Where’s Barnaby?" I asked last Sunday. Barnaby was a one-eyed Golden Retriever mix he’d had since spring. That dog worshipped the ground Dad walked on.

"Moved on," Dad grunted, staring at his coffee.

"Moved on? Did you sell him, Dad? The neighbors are talking. They say you’re sick."

"Let them talk."

I couldn't take it anymore. I loved Barnaby. The thought of my father selling that sweet soul to some stranger for a few hundred bucks made my stomach turn. So, when I saw him load a bag of high-grade kibble and a new leash into his truck the next morning, I followed him.

I expected him to drive to a breeder or a shady parking lot exchange. Instead, he drove two towns over to a drab apartment complex near the VA hospital.

He pulled up to a ground-floor unit. I watched from my car, phone ready to record evidence, as he knocked on the door.

A young man answered. He couldn't have been older than 25, but he looked 50. He was missing his right arm, and the way he stood—tense, scanning the perimeter—screamed PTSD. I recognized that look. I’d seen it in Dad’s old photos.

Dad didn't say a word. He just whistled.

From the passenger seat of Dad’s truck, a dog jumped out. It wasn't Barnaby. It was "Duke," a German Shepherd he’d had last year. Duke looked incredible. Focused. Calm. He trotted right up to the young man and sat by his left leg, leaning his weight against the boy’s thigh.

The young man crumpled. He fell to his knees, burying his face in Duke’s fur, sobbing. Duke didn't flinch. He just held his ground, anchoring the boy to reality.

Dad handed the young man a thick envelope. Not money—paperwork. Vaccination records. Training logs.

I got out of my car. "Dad?"

He jumped, looking more terrified than I’d ever seen him. He walked me away from the boy, lowering his voice.

"You weren't supposed to see this."

"You trained him," I realized. "You didn't get rid of them. You trained them."

Dad sighed, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands. "A fully trained PTSD service dog costs anywhere from fifteen to thirty thousand dollars. The insurance doesn't cover it. The VA has a waiting list a mile long. These boys... they come home, and they can't sleep, they can't go to the grocery store, they can't breathe."

He looked back at the young man, who was now smiling through tears, throwing a ball for Duke with his left hand.

"I can't give them money," Dad said, his voice cracking. "I don't have any. But I know dogs. And I have time."

"But why the secrecy? Why every six months?"

"Because that’s how long it takes to turn a scared shelter dog into a soldier’s lifeline," he said. "Basic obedience, task training, desensitization. I take the broken dogs nobody wants, and I turn them into the partners these kids need."

"And Barnaby?" I asked, my throat tight.

"Delivered him yesterday to a female marine in Ohio. She hadn't left her house in two years. She went to the park this morning."
🐾 on my ❤️ Please share if this moved you.

[RoBBeer75 @robrenwick]

@futbolquaters Newcastle

[The Husky @Mr_Husky1]

I’ve been a mechanic for 30 years. I’ve seen it all. But last Friday, a woman pulled in driving a beat-up 2005 Honda Odyssey. It sounded like a bag of marbles in a blender. She had three kids in the back, all under the age of six. The car was packed with bags. Not grocery bags—suitcases.

"It's making a noise," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I just need it to get to my sister's in Denver. That's 400 miles." I popped the hood. It wasn't good. Alternator was shot, serpentine belt was hanging by a thread, and the water pump was leaking. Parts and labor? Minimum $800.

I walked back to the waiting room. She was counting change out of a Ziploc bag to buy the kids a soda from the vending machine. She looked terrified. "Ma'am," I said. She jumped. "Is it bad? I have... I have $60."

I looked at her. I looked at the kids. I saw the bruise on her arm she was trying to hide with a long sleeve. I knew that look. She wasn't just visiting her sister. She was escaping. If I told her the truth, she’d be stranded here.

I took a deep breath. "Well," I said, wiping my greasy hands on a rag. "It's a simple fix. Loose wire. And... uh... there was a recall on these belts. Manufacturer pays for it. You're actually lucky you came in."

Her shoulders dropped about five inches. "Really?" "Yep. 'Standard Warranty Policy.' Takes about two hours. Why don't you take the kids to the diner next door? On me. We have a... coupon."

I spent the next three hours replacing the alternator, the belt, and the pump. I filled the gas tank. I put new wipers on. I paid for the parts out of my own retirement jar.

When she came back, I handed her the keys and a receipt that said $0.00. "You're good to go," I said. She looked at the receipt, then at me. She knew. You don't get a full tank of gas from a loose wire. She grabbed my hand, squeezing it hard. She didn't say thank you. She just whispered, "You just saved my life."

I watched that van limp onto the highway, running smoother than it had in years. My boss walked up behind me. "You didn't charge her, did you? That's coming out of your paycheck, Mike." "Take it," I said, lighting a cigarette. "Best money I ever spent."

Some repairs aren't about cars. They're about giving someone the mileage they need to start over.

Anonymous

[Jordan Cronin @jordancronin_]

Jacob Ramsey and Anthony Elanga laughing at Anthony Gordon’s reception…

[Gunther Eagleman™ @GuntherEagleman]

Love this!