The nose has it.

All our dogs have had different ways of going for a walk. I think it's because they had or have different values. Some dogs are really into running, and thank heaven none of our have been, because the humans in this house were never fleet of foot and are not likely to become so soon. But there are other differences to note. For example: 

1) Large Guard Dog (Tralfaz): The late Tralfaz was by breed a farm dog, meant to tow small carts and protect the herd--making him a guard dog, not a watch dog. His walking habits reflected this: straight line, watch everything, be suspicious of deer and squirrels and any other critter but not immediately aggressive. Walks with him were usually brisk, of varying length.

2) Medium Retriever (Nipper): Nipper was a fuzzy, fun-loving chap, the kind who would love to go on a hunt and retrieve things. Not having been trained as a hunting dog, though, he would probably freak out at the gun and grab the dead duck and eat it. Walks were very brisk, but with long stops to smell what there was to smell, and could be quite long. 

3) Medium Retriever Redux (Izzy): Izzy is a sweet mush for the most part, with protective instincts but a scientific interest in smelling every blade of grass along the sidewalk. Walks are slow and include many stops. 

The fact is, Izzy's walks are not great exercise because he stops constantly. Ants outpace us. Every walk is a snurffin' sniffari. I mean, it's better than nothing for me (who leads the majority of his walks), but it's not taking excess weight off either of us. 

But it doesn't much matter to me about the exercise. Since I work at home, any day that isn't tempting by its pleasantness would probably be a day I stayed in and gathered dust. Having a canine companion guarantees I am going to be outside however lousy the weather is, and I think on the whole that has done me a lot of good. Not that it always felt good, mind you. 

So thanks, fuzzy friends, for keeping me moving, not letting me become a potted ficus. But seriously, can we move someplace warmer?  

Talkin' 'bout the car wash.

Summer is here! School is out! The kids are already bored! Time to take them to everyone's favorite ride: The drive-through car wash! 

Maybe I was kind of a softheaded kid and easily amused, but I always enjoyed a trip through the car wash. It was cooler in there, and smelled nice, and it was like a short li'l fun house ride, albeit a wet one. Yes, we kids kept the windows closed as directed. The three-minute extravaganza was always a good time, and left the wee ones and the car refreshed.

It was not a common occurrence, actually. My dad liked to wash the cars himself when he had time, then get that Turtle Wax on there all buffed and shiny. That was kind of fun to do with him as well, spraying each other with the hose, watching the dry paste become shiny metal with a little of the ol' Miyagi treatment. But the automated car wash was sheer entertainment.

The car wash seen above is not the optimal type. This is a small booth of the sort where you pay with a credit card and the machines go back and forth while the car remains stationary. Although the building it is part of contains a regular car wash and bays for oil changes, this one (as you can see) is open any time of day. Feel like washing the car at three in the morning? In you go! 

One thing I have not done is take any of our dogs through a car wash. I fear it might terrify them, and that can lead to any of a number of regrettable behaviors. Tucker Budsyn, America's most famous golden retriever, came to viral prominence in just that way. 

But he's a celebrity now, and that kind of stunt is the price of celebrity. 

Besides, part of the reason I was in the car wash was that there was an off-putting odor in my wife's car. I cleaned the interior but that didn't seem to solve the problem, so it was time to get all the dirt and pollen off the thing and see if maybe there was the carcass of a chipmunk stuck underneath. The point being, I wanted to deodorize the vehicle, and did not want a dog in the backseat making more odors. 

Anyway, the way things have been going this June, I probably would have forgotten to lock the windows, and Izzy would have freaked out and pressed the window button, and then there would be more trouble. 

So to sum up: Car wash good; Car wash with kids great; Car wash with dogs dicey. That is all. 

Sprung.

As I noted, and you know if you're in this hemisphere along with most of the population, spring has arrived. And that means hope! Dreams! Young love! And WORK WORK WORK.

Yesterday I was in the giant houseware store, which I'll call Loam Depot because I was buying mulch and rocks. Rocks! When you're a kid you think rocks just happen. They're not something you buy. They're all over. Why spend money on rocks? Why torture the poor suspension (yours and the car's) with a load of rocks? And why buy mulch when you can mow over leaves and make it?

I know, I know. I don't care why. It just is. Spring comes and my un-mulched areas look like crap. As for the rocks, like most people in the 'burbs whose mailbox is on the devil's strip twixt sidewalk and road, I am not content to just let the mailbox post stand in dirt. But I am not so foolish as to think something planted in primo dog zone would survive. Once one dog hits the spot they all want to, and there's no plant alive that can withstand that kind of barrage. Some people cover the ground at the base of the post with bricks or mulch, and some use decorative pebbles, like moi. I use red ones. They match the mulch. 

My dad was a great one for landscaping, and he absolutely 100% did not pass that love down to me. I envy people like him, people who love gardening and tending the lawn and all the other things that make the property look dandy. They get exercise and fresh air and have more to show to the world for the effort than sweaty gym clothes. I like growing individual plants, but nothing more than I can grow in a pot, and that includes grape tomatoes and bell peppers. I cannot stand the idea of turning a large plot of earth, shoving in seeds, then fighting off deer and rabbits and bugs all summer. Unless I can develop a plant that produces Krugerrands, I think I'm just not going to maintain the motivation necessary. 

Today, though, is one of those days I have to buckle down and get some things done. Putting down some tick-murdering poison along the border of the property, for example -- one of the ways we keep the dog tickless. Killing weeds in walkways and other places plants don't belong. Washing the cars -- I feel confident that the big freeze is done, and there's no point in have a vehicle that looks like a pretzel. 

I guess that shows just how close to nature I am, that my spring endeavors are all about cars and poison. Oh, and I got the grill going yesterday, so that's propane for burning meat. I'm a one-man Anti-UN Environmental Programme. And for that, at least, I am proud. 

As I look back on today's blog entry, I realize I've covered this ground in years gone by. And that's what spring is -- covering the same old ground, year after year. With mulch.

Dogs in the comic books.

Throughout the history of American comic books, dogs have played an interesting but not dominating role. There have been a number of famous canine characters who appeared first in comics, and others who appeared elsewhere and made their way into comics. But considering the enormous popularity of dogs as pets in our history, they actually seem underrepresented. 

Note here that I'm not referring to funny-animal type dogs, like Snoopy or Pluto or Droopy or Huckleberry Hound or even Underdog. I'm thinking here of action hero dogs. And no, Scooby-Doo does not count. Jonny Quest's dog Bandit is close, but he's not a headlining character, I'm afraid. The same goes for Snowy and Dogmatix. 

Lassie, however, was not just a star of film and television; the world's favorite collie starred in comic book adventures by Dell from 1950 to 1962; then Western picked up the series until 1969. And I am not kidding about being the favorite of the world, or at least what we used to call Christendom -- those comics were also published in Canada, Brazil, the UK, Australia, Scandinavia, Germany, and so on. Rin-Tin-Tin didn't have as long a run in comics, but his adventures appeared in most of the same markets and Lebanon as well, according to the Grand Comics Database. 

Less down-to-earth dogs were featured in comics, of course, and we've covered a couple of the most famous ones on this blog. Krypto, Superman's super pet dog, was unleashed (ha!) on the American public in a March 1955 issue, and Batman got a part-time dog helper named Ace a few months later. Older than both of those characters by three years is Rex the Wonder Dog, a heroic white shepherd who was so smart and whose adventures became so fantastical that in more recent years has been said to have superpowers, and be a superhero in his own right.

When Marvel comics decided to have a dog character, it was of course Lockjaw, a monstrous teleporting bulldog, as part of the Inhumans, because we can't just have friendly pets when Jack Kirby is involved.

But speaking of Marvel, I'm proud to report that the inspiration for this post today is my own dog Izzy, America's Sweetheart. Yes, I was amazed to discover that before he lived with us, he was actually a friend of the Fantastic Four's Human Torch, appearing in an issue of Strange Tales in 1965.

Therefore, as I own Izzy, I am the official agent of a Marvel character. If Disney wants to go ahead and ruin the Fantas -- that is, make a new Fantastic Four movie, they will need to pay us a small fee -- perhaps two or three million dollars -- for the rights. 

🐕💰🐶💸🦮🤑

Okay, maybe it's just possible that Izzy did not appear in the actual comic book. I say that based on the fact that his head is not as big as a human's, as shown above, and in 1965 he was not born yet -- and would not be for 56 years. The actual panel from the story, courtesy of the entertaining Comics Archaeology site, is here: 

But if Disney would like to send us a bushel of money anyway, I'm sure we can accommodate them. Come on, Mouse House! Look at my dog! He's cuter than anything you've coughed up in at least twenty years and has universal appeal. (Oops -- maybe I should not have mentioned Universal.) 

Kids today.

I've got another little story to tell, involving dogs and a couple of teenagers, and I'll try to keep it brief. (One name has been changed to protect the identity of the dog I do not own.)

I was out walking Izzy when I saw the FedEx truck. The driver had just dropped off a package at the house of a family I know. Behind was an SUV, engine running. I wondered if this could be a setup for porch piracy. As the FedEx truck pulled away, the SUV did not move, and I was glad to see that the lady of the house came out for the package. I figured that if these had been wannabe pirates, their chance was lost. Izzy and I proceeded. 

As we got closer, I noted that the SUV was driven by a male teenager, which did not alleviate my suspicions. He rolled down his window. Then he asked, "Do you know anyone else around here who has a dog like yours?" 

Curious, I said, "Yes, there's a family with a very white colored one around the corner."

"No, more like a brown one. Because we just found one running loose." He started to roll down his rear window. And I already knew what dog I would find. 

"Gonzo, is that you?" I said, and sure enough, there was Gonzo's smilin' face, happy as can be, held from jumping out the window by a very worried teenage girl. 

Oh, I knew Gonzo. His owner doesn't live nearby, but when he travels he leaves the dog with his parents, and they do. Gonzo has a knack for running into the woods behind their house and getting lost, which is how I met him a couple of years ago. The family lives just around the corner and three doors down from where we were, so since I didn't have an extra leash, I had the kids follow Izzy and me in the SUV. 

Sure enough, when we got there Grandma was hollering in the backyard, looking for Gonzo. I said hi and told her these nice people had found her boy. She was grateful and told me her husband was in trouble—he’d been watching the dog while doing yard work, and I guess got distracted. And Gonzo had gotten lost again.

So I just want to give a shout-out to the kids, kids whom I mistakenly thought were up to no good, kids who had corralled a loose dog with no ID and astutely asked someone with a similar dog if he knew the pooch, realizing that all the dog owners in a neighborhood eventually run into one another. That was nice work and quick thinking, and I tip my hat to them. Not all teens are awful, and some are smart and decent. 

Thanks, teens! You give me some hope for the next generation! 

Deeper memeing.

Hello, pals! Just a few memes here to keep your strength up as you face the weekend. Be careful out there! 

Too dark?

I hope so! Enjoy your day.

Say no to pools.

I feel like the only guy who doesn't want a pool at his house. Surely I can't be. 

It would be different if we lived in the south. Relatives in Florida had a heated pool under a skeeter- and UV-blocking screenhouse that was very nice. It wasn't a heated pool, so you really didn't want to go in the water from, say, Thanksgiving to St. Patrick's Day, although you could if you were brave. But here in New York, you get maybe three months out of the pool. They open in May, no one goes in the water until June, they come out for good at Labor Day, and wrap it all up by October. 

It's a lot of work and money for a three-month dip. Besides, most of the time no one actually goes in the water in the families I've observed. They just sit around the pool, tanning. 

Bankrate.com tells us that in-ground swimming pools can add up to seven percent to the value of the house, but they may cost more than that to build and maintain. 

The value they add is more in scenery and potential than swimming. Everyone who wants to entertain knows that guests--especially those with kids--will be excited to come over if there's a pool. The kids will use it, but the adults, probably not. However, it will keep the kids busy. And it looks nicer than a dry, empty, sunbaked backyard with maybe a tetherball and some cornhole stuff. BORING.

I don't want people coming over in large numbers anyway, so I'm cool.

I've resisted successfully, and it has not been too hard. Our backyard has a severe slope, so the cost of installation would be much higher than if the ground was flat. The legally required fencing alone would cost thousands. Financial setbacks over the years have often taken big capital improvements off the table. Most of all, I've resisted because you know whose job it would be out there with the net and the chlorine tester every day. (It's always the husband.) 

Now, this kind of pool might be worth investing in: 

Keep the dogs cool and give 'em a stealth bath while you're at it. Win-win.

Dog burglar.

Merriam-Webster tells us that the term cat burglar goes back to 1907, and means "a burglar who is adept at entering and leaving the burglarized place without attracting notice". Although it was probably the inspiration for Batman's nemesis/girlfriend Cat Woman, the term seems to have gone out of fashion (just like second-story man) as a means of describing a particular kind of theft. And why not? If you can just walk into Target and walk out with whatever your little arms can carry, why go sneaking around? 

Nevertheless, as a dog owner, I wonder what kind of a thief would be considered a dog burglar. I just wonder.... [Cue wavy fadeout as scene cuts to the sketch]

[Scene: Dead of night, Suburbia, USA]

Wife: What's that?

Hubs: HMph?

Wife: I heard something downstairs.

Hubs: Mmmblmm.

[Hubs schleps downstairs. At door SFX: scratch scratch]

Hubs: Huh? [Opens door]

Dog Burglar: Thanks thanks thanks! I was whining for hours and hours!

Hubs: Hey, wait--

DB: Can I come in? Thanks! Say, where do you keep your valuables? It smells great in here! 

Hubs: Valuables? You got the wrong house, brother.

DB: There! [Opens fridge]

Hubs: That's what you want? You're hungry?

DB: Not really but -- Oh, wow! You got ham and turkey and even cheese! Okay if I steal some?

Hubs: Well, er...

[1 hour later]

Wife: What the hell's going on down here?

Hubs: Hi, honey! We're just having a little midnight snack.

Wife: At three a.m.?

Hubs: This is my new best friend, Finnegan.

DB: Hi, glad ta know ya. I love your house.

Wife: Uh... thanks? Hey, is that the leftover ham? That was supposed to be dinner tonight.

DB: Welp, gotta go! Thanks so much, Sam! I love you. And you too, Mrs. Sam! [exits promptly]

Hubs: What a nice guy.

Wife: Why did he steal one of my boots on the way out?

Dog reviews.

SynaMutt™ Synthetic Leash
Unbreakable Security for You, Comfort for Your Dog - $10.95

0☆  tastes bad too tuff no g ood don't buy

DogGog™ Liver Flavored Wood Stick Chew Toy

Looks Like a Stick, Tastes Like Liver! -  $6.00

1★ look like stikk mmm yum wait livr what ? flavr good but am confus

Yumpossible™ Doggie Chicken Treats

Delicious Treats for Your Best Friend! 100% Organic! - $21.00

2★★ tayst lik butts 

Securomutt™ Dog Gate

Keep Your Pup Out of Dangerous or Unwanted Places, Guaranteed! - $35.00

0☆  no gud cant get in bad bad bad gate bork bork bork BORK BORK

Sleepi Poopsi™ Dog Bed

A Soft But Supportive Bed for Your Canine Pal - $25.00

3★★★ is gud for naps but still goin on the bed wit you

Manolo Blahnik™ Ibrimu Silver Nappa Leather Open Toe Mules 

Silver Nappa Leather Open-Toe Mules - $965.00

5★★★★★ delish! o so gud chew chew chew an you get 2 at a time oh so tasti

Life and bags.

Be happy happy happy, people! Keep smiling!

Or maybe not. This cheerful pattern was on some rolls of poop bags I bought for the dogs. The bags did little to cheer me, although I admit I'm always happier when the yard is safe to walk in. The dogs surely are happier to be able to release the gross matter these contain. 

Then there's the Vibrant Life bags. I believe Vibrant Life is a Walmart pet brand, although I've seen things sold by Amazon under that name. They offer pet waste bags as well, which leads to the odd choice to have the words VIBRANT LIFE printed on bags intended to contain the most repellant stuff on earth. 

Vibrant Life sounds like one of those brand names you find on products from Chinese companies. I could easily see anything sold under the name Vibrant Life if it came from a Chinese company: toilet paper holders, potholders, easy chairs, toothpicks, enema inserters, loose transistors, nasal swabs. Whatever it is, they hint, if you buy it your life will become exciting and interesting and people will flock to you. 

Well, to whoever named the Vibrant Life poop bags, I'm sorry to say my life didn't become noticeably better. However, I believe this tiny turtle's life may have. 

Herbert (let's call him Herbert) may have been on his way to the drainage pond near our property when he got stuck in the dry landscape. This has been the driest August I've ever seen, and he seemed to be snarled in some dead grass. And he's such a little dude, barely the size of an old Kennedy half dollar. Mindful of salmonella danger, I used a Vibrant Life bag to pick him up and bring him closer to the pond. I placed him feet-down amid some weeds where there was still some moisture. And I hope he found his way to where he wanted to go from there. 

That was a baby-powder scented bag, by the way, so Herbert is probably the only baby-scented baby turtle in existence right now.

Vibrant Life hasn't made my life Vibrant, but it protected me and may have helped Herbert survive another day. Good luck, Herbert, and happy turtling. 

Counting crows.

So, the crows are back in town. 

I haven't missed them much. Their CAW always sounds like an accusation from an angry ex. They're not ugly birds, and black goes with everything, plus I admire their interest in getting to the high ground however tall a structure may be. 

Of course, they do like to go after the garbage, when people are too foolish to get cans with lids. 

"MMmmm!"

I mean, we're not foiling raccoons or bears here. A lid is all it takes to stop the crows. 

Anyway, I didn't realize that they were gone until they came back. That is to say, last summer was so wet that the crows never seemed to show up, not even in the fall when they are most active in these parts. I understand from certain crowologists that heavy rains discourage crows, and we sure had a lot of that in 2021. The grass had to be cut weekly. Now? My lawn hasn't been cut all month and even the weeds look exhausted. This may be ideal crow summer weather. 

One morning this week the boys and I went outside and on the front lawn it looked like we had some crow-on-crow violence. Or perhaps the local fox caught one and devoured it on the spot. 

Just black feathers hither and yon. As for the bird, well, nevermore.

Of course, my dogs were fascinated by the remains. They kept sniffing around, me trying to discourage it. Avian cholera, mad cow disease, bird mites, all kinds of fun things can be carried by those doity boids. I'd prefer to admire them from afar. 

If I'm trying to sleep, actually, I'd rather not admire them at all. I do not have any ex-wives around, but if I did, I imagine they would sound just like that. 

Deputy & dawg.

A couple of weeks ago the coast looked clear, so I unleased the hounds into the front yard. Little did I know that the incident would involve law enforcement and a firearm. 

It's been hot, and the hairy mutts can't get much exercise in the heat of the day, plus that's work time for the saps who pay the bills. So the trip to Peeville outside is a joyful event. 

I generally make sure there's no one around, because old dog Tralfaz runs out without a leash. The little dude Izzy gets a leash, but Fazzy knows better than to go in the street. 

However, Fazz does bark and then greet any pedestrians with wagging tail. Since he is so huge, though, people can get scared, and hear the barking but ignore the wagging tail. (The old joke has the owner saying, "Don't you know that barking dogs don't bite?" and the other guy saying, "I know that and you know that, but I don't think your dog knows that." Ha ha!)

What happened was a fellow in slacks, dress shirt, and necktie suddenly appeared around the neighbor's house, and Fazzy went galumphing up to him. "Is he friendly?" the man yelled. "Too friendly!" I answered. And Tralfaz got some pats and cheer, and was happy. Meanwhile, Izzy was dragging me as hard as he could to get in on it. 

It turned out the man was from the sheriff's office, and had a holstered gun on his belt to prove it. 

Having gotten some love, Fazzy went to find a nice quiet place to pee, but Izzy stayed with me. It turned out the sheriff had an application from one of the neighbors to become a corrections officer, and had some questions for people in the 'hood. I was glad to help out. It was basic character stuff, like did the guy and his family do anything shifty, were they considerate, things like that. Well, three years ago they had a graduation party that was too loud and too long, but I didn't bring that up. Ever since they've been ideal neighbors, unlike the families that live on either side of our place. 

While I was answering the questions, and the fellow was taking notes, I suddenly realized that Izzy was licking the man's holster, right at the business end of the gun. I casually yanked him away while trying to look like I wasn't pulling on an 80-pound dog. I didn't think the gun would go off, but I didn't want the man to be alarmed, thinking someone was going for his weapon. Knowing this puppy, the lick is often the father of the bite; if he thought the holster tasted good, it might have been chomp city, and the whole congenial discussion could have gone south in a hurry. 

Fortunately all was well, and the man left with my recommendation for the fellow up the block. If he wants to be a corrections officer, then God bless him. For me, it's all I can do to control the hairy little inmates at my place. 

Done to death.

I'm telling you, these dogs are driving me crazy. You know, when I called the producer and said we were going to need a couple of dogs, I expected to get some with a little more pizzazz, you know, a little imagination, a little razzmatazz. Instead it's just the same old same old. 

Take, for example, the hydrant situation. 

At first I thought these guys would bring something new to the part, since they didn't urinate on the hydrant, but they kept sniffing at it like they were trying to get a dose of intranasal iron. 

It got worse from there -- lying around, barking at passersby, chewing sticks. All the dull clichés we've always seen. I thought they were showing a little spark of creativity when they didn't chase a squirrel, but it turned out they were just being lazy. 

After we wrapped for the day, I got to thinking that maybe they are method actors, and were getting too into the idea of Dog rather than bringing themselves to the part of Dog. So I texted one of them and asked what his motivation was with the hydrant business. He wrote, "sniffin stuf".

I can't work like this!

If these two don't show some chops, we're going to have to recast. I mean, they're fuzzy and adorable, sure, but adorable is a dime a dozen in this business. I want ACTING!

Maybe if I get a couple of cats to play the dogs... Hmm....

Fazzy gets it done.

I take it all back. Everything I wrote yesterday that was in the least critical about dogs. All that stuff about them being willful, disobedient, and stubborn? I take it all back without reserve. 

Why? Because huge elder dog Tralfaz pulled his weight. 

What you see here is a $100 gift card I received, thanks to Tralfaz. I entered his picture in the Pet Month sweepstakes that ShopRite was running, and he was one of the winners! 

A few things to note, though:

1) This was a sweepstakes, not a contest. We didn't win because Fazzy was the handsomest dog -- although he unquestionably must have been. It was a random drawing. 

2) What helped was that people don't read rules. The rules said you had to enter via email, but when the sweepstakes was announced on social media, people just started posting pet pictures there. So, that had to cut down on the number of entries. 

3) With the current inflation rate of 9.1%, this gift card will buy about 90% of the groceries that it would have bought last year. I'm used to sticker shock, but I've been sticker STUNNED at the supermarket these past couple of months. 

4) It's a good thing they don't put actual price stickers on items the way markets did back in the stone age; the staff would be out with the sticker guns raising prices 24/7. I've never seen prices skyrocket like this. 

But thanks to Tralfaz, without whom I might not have entered this sweepstakes, we can defray some expenses this week. Of course, I have to buy more of his favorite dog treats for him with the winnings, so that's another expense. It's only fair.

Dog job description.

What we have with our dogs in a failure to communicate. 

One of the ignored features of the movie Up is that the evil Charles Muntz invented one of the most ridiculously important devices of all time -- a machine that not only allows dogs to communicate in English without even vocalization, but apparently helps them to understand us completely and without training. Not only that, but the dogs are able to express their own thoughts to one another that way. It's completely mind-boggling. Nothing else in the movie comes close to that level of crazy, not Kevin the magical-ish bird or using sails to steer balloons or the fact that Muntz has lived almost a century and is still pretty spry. The idea that animals have human-enough brains to communicate with us via a proper device would have made Muntz the greatest biologist and inventor in history. So it's better not to think about it while watching the movie. 

"Hi there!"

As things are in the real world, dogs hardly understand us and very often don't even try, because it would interfere with their own interests. I don't know if they're being stubborn or willful, or just didn't read the job description properly.

WANTED: DOG

JOB DESCRIPTION

One (1) dog sought to fulfill position of: Dog. No experience necessary; will train. Duties include:

Obedience: Will listen to and obey a short list of commands

Exercise: Will encourage humans to get exercise with play, walks, etc.

Affection: Will provide affection to humans occasionally, as inspired (not mandatory at all times)

Protection: Will provide canine protection against wild animals and human assailants as needed (not a common occurrence)  

Toys and food to be provided to match your preferences (to be determined over time) and health needs. Note: No chewing on walls, floors, furniture, or rugs permitted. 

That's what I would have written as the want ad. What the dogs would have read, however, seems to have been an entirely different ad. 

WANTED: DOG

JOB DESCRIPTION

One (1) dog sought to fulfill position of: Dog. No experience necessary. Duties include:

Listening: Optional, with obedience as you feel like it

Exercise: Lying on the grass or the porch when inconvenient. Best time for play is in the wee hours, or whenever humans want to sleep.

Affection: To be determined by dog

Protection: Go insane at UPS man, other dogs; responding to threats close to home optional

All things within home may be chewed as determined by dog; anything may be a toy or food as required. Optional self-assigned jobs may include: eating poop, chewing baseboards, eating inedible objects, digging miscellaneous holes.

Sometimes I think those Muntz collars might be helpful to prevent these little misunderstandings. Other times I think I'm happier not knowing what my dogs are thinking. I'm always glad that the neighbors don't know what my dogs are thinking. It would lead to fistfights or at least embarrassment. 

Limb from limb.

I want to go kiss the new neighbors up the street. 

They are the third family to live in that house in the last ten years, and the first family to notice that the three trees that border the sidewalk have limbs that stretch out and prevent average-size persons from walking along. When Tralfaz was a puppy I could crouch like a little old hunchbacked man and get under them, but the last few years, when laden with leaves, the branches were as low as my chest. I would go in the street and let the dog continue underneath.

ouch ouch ouch

But no more! Those veritable saints have cut the limbs that overhung the sidewalk and set the sidewalk free! No more wooden chop across the throat! No more sticks in my eye! No more bugs getting on my head! Free passage and safety! 

It may have been civic-mindedness, but I think what made the difference here is that the dad cuts the grass on a riding mower. Those branches were so low they would sweep a guy right out of his seat, beer and all. The previous family had a service to do it, and who cares how the employees deal with such issues? None of the families had a dog, so no one was out walking around like a zombie, like me in the mornings. But the threat of being clotheslined by a hundred pounds of wood will get a homeowner's attention.

Whatever their reason for doing it, I salute them. Thank you, family, for your gift to the neighborhood! May no branches fall on your roof, no leaves land in your gutter, no squirrels crawl down your chimney, and may God bless you with a happy home. 

New from FredCo!

 

Pear-shaped.

No, the title above does not refer to my waistline, but my weekend. 

Margaret Thatcher brought the expression "go pear-shaped," as in to fail, to Americans when she used it in a meeting with President Reagan. According to the IELTS site, the origin of the phrase is uncertain. One story "goes back to 1940s when RAF pilots used to get frustrated in case their endeavour to create a phenomenal aerial route went pear shaped instead of perfectly circular. Another story is related to WWI when observational balloons wouldn’t get inflated as designed but go pear-shaped."

Non-optimal, unless you are
an actual pear

What happened was, my wife threw her back out (another odd expression) in a knitting injury. That is, she bent over to pick up her knitting bag and got a stab of terrible pain. I had to stay home all day Saturday, as there was no way she could handle Thing 1 and Thing 2 without me. She was much better Sunday, and better still today. But that shoved all my usual running around town to Sunday, and so I never had a chance to prepare anything for the site today. 

But fear not! Today we're all orange-shaped and back in business. I hope to see you all here tomorrow. 

Baby feets!

We were very happy the other day to meet our friends at the dog park. Our dogs were also happy to see their dog, who has been close with Tralfaz for years, was a great friend to the late Nipper, and now is like an auntie to baby dog Izzy. 

And speaking of babies, it was our first chance to meet their new human baby!

The baby, of course, was the pinnacle of cuteness, riding on her mom in a front carrier. When last we'd seen this baby, she was still doin' time on the inside. Now she's a free baby, and all is well. 

I'm not sure that the baby was happy to see us, though. The problem was, the mom is not especially tall, but our dogs are large, and they both are able to reach the baby's feet dangling down out of the carrier. And as we all know, baby feets are indescribably delicious. 

I'm happy to report there was no biting or nibbling, but there were a number of licks on the bottom of baby's socks, and I don't think she cared for the experience. Did it tickle? Did she even notice it? Was she just feeling fussy for no reason relating to the feets? What babies are feeling is often mysterious, at least until they erupt in one fashion or other. 

Anyway, I think we can agree that of all the things in the animal kingdom, mammal babies got the best feets. Bug feets, not so cute. Some bird feets are quite excellent, especially those of the world-renowned blue-footed booby, but on the whole, mammals are tops. 

Maybe that's part of the serpent's curse from Eden in Genesis 3:15 -- 

I will put enmity between you and the woman,

and between your offspring and hers;

They will strike at your head,

while you strike at their heel

And you got no cute feets!

Sick day.

Not much today; trying to take it easy. It won't help, though. I believe I have a case of gastritis. My stomach has been off since Friday, but without the explosive or cemented effects one might have from gastroenteritis. 

How did I get this? Oh, who knows. I have two dogs with powerhouse immune systems who like to snack on wildlife poop; maybe that had something to do with it. You forget to wash your hands once....

At least it's not Chinese Death Virus. 

Although I have managed with some difficulty to procure lamb shanks for the Easter feast, and I would hate to be unable to enjoy it. On the other hand, feeling poorly makes the Good Friday fast easier. 

Well, I'll check in tomorrow. I still have to work, but I'm letting other things go light. The dogs can walk each other for all I care. Blarg.