LOGAN LYNN

  

Pretty Baby at Home…

Baby doggo loves having more space to run around at this new place. She’s been making this happy face for days. 💙

Quarantine, Day 42

I’ve been quarantined in my house for exactly 6 weeks as of today and I miss you. A lot. Send tweet.

A Man, His Dog and the Road…

Thanks for all the sweet messages over the past week since I announced I would be heading out on this new adventure! Many of you have asked what my next steps are, so here goes:

I bought a 2018 RoadTrek Simplicity SRT (pictured) that Pretty Baby and I picked up in Las Vegas this weekend, and now will be on the road for the foreseeable future, occasionally picking up GLASYS, Matt Alber and others to drive around with us, playing shows all over the country.

10 years ago a big piece of my recovery from alcohol and cocaine was locking myself in the house where I could be safe — and I have essentially been locked in here ever since (unless you paid me to leave). It has served me well in many ways, but it’s time to lock myself outside for a little while. See you soon, friends with driveways, outdoor power and water hookups!

I’m going to spend the next couple of months at the ocean while we book shows and get the record out. If you want us to come sing songs in your city, EMAIL US with your favorite venue and we’ll do our best to come see you. 🙂

XOXO
Logan

Check out pics from the RoadTrek adventure so far below:


Pretty Baby: A Love Story

I adopted Pretty Baby from Oregon Humane Society exactly 6 months ago today. They told me at the time that it could take up to 8 months for her to come to me or be comfortable in the new environment, but I just knew she was supposed to come home with me, so she did.

For about a year before that, I had been telling myself that I was going to bring a new animal into my home/heart/life once Jay, Gil and I finished this new record, and on our final day of mastering in the studio, I got sucked into the OHS dog adoption site, so I drove over to meet some pups.

As I came into the building, they had this giant tree with polaroids of lost or abandoned baby dogs under the banner “Home For Christmas”. I don’t even like Christmas, but for some reason the construction paper branches with tiny dog faces glued on them like ornaments pulled me in.

There were only 7 dogs left on what had clearly been a very well populated display at the beginning of the season. One of them looked so much sadder than the others. They thought she was two. A chihuahua mix who had spent her entire life cooped up in a tiny house with 98 other dogs and one very troubled animal hoarder.

This particular creature had never been held, never gone on a walk, never used stairs, never had a treat, and had spent her entire first 2 years locked inside, neglected and essentially fending for herself, before landing in doggie jail.

I asked to meet her. The attendant said “Now, if you are looking for a dog to go on walks with you, this is not the right dog. She may never be willing or able to go on walks due to fear.”

As I approached her cage, she growled and gave me ample verbal warning that she was not interested in making eye contact, so we didn’t. Instead, I went into one of the visitation rooms and waited for her to come see me.

When she finally got to the door, she refused come in — but my baby voice powers are too great for any creature to withstand. We stayed in there for a very long time together, first with the Humane Society volunteer, then by ourselves. She frantically looked for a way out for most of that time and I just kept saying “Who’s a baby? Who’s a pretty baby?” over and over to her. She eventually stopped trying to escape and accepted the chicken I had been offering and I figured if baby voice works here, it will definitely also work at home.

I told the attendant she was coming with me. They were all very concerned that I was adopting such a challenging individual without much forethought, but I understood who this dog was. We are the same. And she was not staying here, scared and alone, for another minute. They packed her up in a travel case for me and we left.

I was able to stay home with her over the days that followed. It was truly rough. She cried and growled and we continued to not make eye contact. I let her be, I sang songs constantly so she would get used to my voice, and my vegan fingers threw pieces of chicken her way before making any movements. This went on for 8 full days.

On our 8th evening together, right as I was really beginning to question what I had done to my previously quiet, easy life, something changed. She walked right up to me and wanted to be picked up, which I did then for the very first time. She stared at me really close to my face for what must have been an hour and wanted to hold hands periodically while she stared. She appeared to be crying what looked to be human tears; something I’ve never seen her (or any dog, for that matter) do before or ever since.

These were tears of gratitude. She had finally realized she was home. Safe. And that big scary human chicken man isn’t scary after all.

Today Pretty Baby is a happy, well-adjusted, queen. I hosted a retreat for my team at my house this week and she greeted everyone with tail wags and sniffs. No growls. No cries. No barks. No fear.

Love is powerful magic, friends. Living with this tiny lady the past 6 months and watching her move through her trauma by way of trusting and loving me has been one of the most healing, beautifully unexpected experiences.

Please go adopt someone that needs you!



SUBSCRIBE TO E-NEWS