Laughing Wolf

Friday, October 07, 2011

The Story of Jenny, Part 5

Well, there is a lot still to cover, but as these are in someways notes for the future, I will keep it short. 

Not surprisingly, Jenny had some abandonment issues.  She did not like me leaving on any trip she did not go on, as she got older this included my going to the store.  Arranging care for her was a major issue, especially as I made a major mistake (wrong decision for all the right reasons) after my first embed.  I tried a number of options, but had to drop some of them as they failed to keep Jenny at her home.  Once anyone did that, I was polite but they never had anything to do with her care again. 

I can’t say thank you enough to her Aunt Caity and to Critter Sitters of Lafayette.  I can and do highly recommend the latter, as they spoiled Jenny even more than I did.  Both were wonderful to her, and in so doing were wonderful to me. 

There is much I would share, and maybe will in a book:  My “translating” songs and movie/show themes into “dog” via “bow wows” that occasionally had her rolling her eyes (literally); the things she enjoyed me singing to her for real; early mornings when I went down three steps, sat down on the landing, kissed her head, and skritched her in a little ritual; her refusal to investigate scary noises and insistence that I do so; putting my hand in her mouth when we were playing, and the “oh bleep” look she got when I called her bluff by so doing; having her by my side and simply admiring her white eyelashes; and, a host of other things. 

Jenny is the reason I came back from Iraq that first time, in fact pretty much the only reason I came back and didn’t have my executor store my things and sell it.  To do that, to abandon her was not something I could do.  She also influenced a decision I made on my second embed, one I have told few people about.  On leaving Iraq that second time, I was part of Operation Puppy Love, and was bringing out a puppy to go to the mother of a fallen soldier.  We were at the airport, and by regulation my armor was off.  The airport got an attack alert, and we were told rockets were inbound.  There was no way to get the puppy into a duck-and-cover, and I had already had a couple of interesting conversations with an AFSP who seemed remarkably fixated on his orders to shoot any non-military dogs he saw. 

In the few seconds I had to make a decision, I made the one that I knew was right, and one Jenny would understand.  I had made arrangements for Jenny to “view” my body if anything happened to me, so that she would know I had not abandoned her; and, I knew enough about her to know that she would understand what I did.  There was no time for me to don the armor, no way to make shelter, so I pushed the carrier with the puppy up against a concrete barrier, draped the armor over it, and hunkered down beside it .  The odds of a round dropping right in front of us, or right behind were extremely small, and if it hit the building to my right, well, odds were the puppy would survive.  We waited, and no rounds hit.  Life was good. 

Her vet remarked that dogs like Jenny made it hard to guess their true age:  they were young at heart and body right up until old age hit, then it hit hard and fast.  For Jenny, it did indeed.  On 4 July 2010 she apparently suffered the first in a series of strokes.  Or, what we thought were strokes though I am wondering a bit about that.  Her eyes developed what looked almost like carbonation bubbles in them, and her vision began to fail.  She showed signs of what might could have been the start of the canine version of Alzheimer’s.  And, she began to slow down.  In the last six months, she did slow down, developed cataracts and went completely blind, and had some other issues.

The worst part was that it was clear that some days she didn’t know where she was, but that just made me appreciate the time she was there more.  Her nightmares began to return, and there was little I could do but give reassurance.  For all the time she was a part of my life, she had loved being outdoors and wanted to be outside as much as possible, at least so long as there was no icky rain or scary thunder.  That changed, and she wanted to be inside most of the time, and had clearly decided that the decadent heating and cooling she had disdained before really wasn’t so bad. 

I do wish her end had been better, perhaps more quick and merciful to her and to me.  The end being near was made clear a few weeks ago when she staggered badly, veered off course while walking, and developed muscle tremors.  I had feared that the day that happened was the last day, but her vet put her on Prednisone and an antibiotic, and they did seem to help.  Before they kicked in, she cried in pain in her sleep at one point, the only time I can think of that she ever showed pain or even discomfort.  She was a stoic in that regard, and masked as much or more than any wolf.  To say it broke my heart is massive understatement.  The pain passed, and we had some extra days and weeks together.  We made much of it, and enjoyed each other’s company while we could.

That first day, however, I began digging her grave, and completed it the next.  I think I only quit digging when I realized that I was looking like a demented gopher with my head popping up and out to look around as I emptied the dirt.  Jenny “watched” as I did this, and I swear that at one point she was shaking her head at me.

On Thursday 29 September, it was clear that things were getting worse again.  Since that worst day, she had had problems urinating, and was suffering some urinary incontinence.  She had started walking funny, clearly having problems with her back end; I suspected some internal bleeding, possibly in her GI tract; and something wasn’t right in her abdomen.  I called the vet, and asked her to come out.  My hope even then was that there might be something that could help, and I really had hoped she would say I was over-reacting.  Instead, she confirmed what I had seen and pointed out some others. 

We were as prepared as we could be, as I had been plying Jenny with treats since that first call.  She had somewhere around a dozen pieces of bacon that day, I don’t know how many treats, and I even found one Frosty Paws left in the freezer—a bit of fate not lost on me.  She ate it with her usual frantic haste, loving those things as she did.  We went on several perimeter sweeps of the yard that day, with her going potty, or trying to, as we made sure the yard was secure.

When the vet arrived, I let her observe Jenny, and Jenny did something she rarely did.  She took off on her own, making one last perimeter sweep and doing so the opposite of her normal path.  Upon coming back around, she ran smack into the vet, and kept on going up onto the back porch were some bacon was waiting.  I gave it to her, got her to come down the steps onto the little patio there, and held her as the sleepy shot was given.  She didn’t like the shot, but went down quickly.  In fact, so quickly that I didn’t catch her quite as fast as I should.  She “looked” back at where she had been given the shot, sort of went “Wow” like she was seeing things, then laid her head back down.  I cradled her in my arms, telling her to go to the light, to scout ahead as she loved to do, and that I would catch up one day.  Daddy was slow, I know, but I would catch up.  Go to the light, and if people were craved go visit the Green.  I told her I loved her, that she was my sweet fuzzy girl, and somewhere during that the final shot was given and she left behind the pains of this world. 

I thanked the vet, and she left.  I went inside and got the things already prepared for the day.  I placed the pad that had been at the foot of my bed almost since she had come into my life on a Blackwatch plaid wool throw I had picked up in Scotland many years ago, that she had loved to be on several years back.  As carefully as I could, I picked her up, placed her on the pad, and began to wrap the throw around her.  Since it didn’t fully cover, I used a towel to make sure she was fully covered. 

Before closing the throw and towel, I placed some more bacon at her head, a grave gift for her journey.  Also beside her was a medicine jar, in which was both paper with her name and information, and aluminum foil that also had that same information embossed on it.  If any should ever find her, they will know who she is, and I hope respect her remains. 

A neighbor helped me lower her into the grave, using the tarp that had covered it as a sling.  I folded the tarp down over her, and buried her.  The day had been mixed on several fronts:  it had stormed badly as I was evaluating and deciding if this was the time, and once the decision was made the sun had come back out, another bit of fate I noted in passing.  It was in many ways one of the shittiest days of my life, with one major bright spot in the middle brought about by a wonderful friend doing a wonderful thing. 

She lies now beneath her yard, a silent guardian.  The area where she lies will be filled in time with Siberian Iris and a few tall white Phlox.  I wish that ferns would grow there, as she always did have a thing for green leafy bowers in which to take her rest.  The spot is near to one of her favorite places to sit and watch, and sleep, as she kept vigil over her yard. 

I will miss her, do miss her, and keep listening for her.  I still look to be sure I’m not opening the back door onto her when I come home, and looking to be sure I don’t trip or step on her.  That will fade, but the one thing that will not is my thanks that she was a part of my life, a major part for as someone noted to me the other day, we were not joined at the hip, but at the soul. 

I share this bit of her with you, so that she lives on in more than just my memory. 

Addendum:  For our first few years together, Jenny’s mantra was “Come on Daddy, let’s go explore!” She loved to run free and explore, territory and life.  That’s not a bad way to live.  For me, I hope to make it my motto of life.  Fuzzy Girl, Daddy was and is slow, but I will go, and I will explore.  Thanks.

The Story of Jenny, Part 1
The Story of Jenny, Part 2
The Story of Jenny, Part 3
The Story of Jenny, Part 4

Thursday, October 06, 2011

The Story of Jenny, Part 4

Blake and Silent Jenny

Part of our life together could have been made into a movie:  Blake and Silent Jenny Strike!  For the most part, the Silent Jenny fit her like a glove.

I suspect it came from the abuse, but she did not bark at people or inside.  She was amazingly silent, and also masked problems worse than the wolves—outside of nightmares, I only heard her whimper once in her life, and that was near the end.  While it guaranteed a relatively quiet house, it also posed challenges for both of us.

Jenny was very fastidious about being house broken, but would NOT bark to let me know she needed to go out.  She would come up and look at me, occasionally poke at me with her nose, and otherwise find mostly non-verbal ways to let me know she wanted/needed to go out.  We finally did get a verbal signal of sorts—grunting.

Grunting in wolves is an alarm signal, meaning that something isn’t right and it bothers them.  That was pretty much Jenny’s use of it.  It meant that something wasn’t right in her world, and it needed to be fixed.  It could indicate that she wasn’t happy about how fast I was moving, what we were doing, what we weren’t doing, and even potty.  There were times when she grunted about things so much that I asked her “Are you a puppy or a piggy???”

The only time she barked was outside, and it always was at critters who dared trespass in her yard (or near it).  She didn’t do it a lot, and never did get the idea that the critter(s) had to be coming in over the wire before she should do it.  I kept telling her that, and she kept telling me that alarms and warnings had to be given before they got that close. 

I got no verbal warning on people, and gave up on having a true guard dog early on.  Given her passive-aggressive nature on people, the most I could hope for was some non-verbal indicator of people about. 

While she didn’t talk much, she did find ways to let me know her thoughts on things.  The “whatever” and stomping of the foot mentioned before were part of it, but so were looks and other things.  One incident in particular comes to mind, when Jenny tried to let me know about a person I dated (thankfully briefly).  In that case, upon meeting them, Jenny sized them up and while I was upstairs getting something, looked right at her and then calmly threw up.  She also tried to get between us if we sat together on the sofa, and did other things to make her opinon known.

Now, this wasn’t jealousy, as it turned out.  That particular female had some issues (treatable even), and Jenny picked up on some of that.  She did try to warn me, and when I didn’t get it, I strongly suspect she tried to deal with it herself.  The stairs in my home are narrow and steep.  While I was out of town one time, Jenny caught the female just starting down the stairs, and goosed her.  Understand, this is NOT something Jenny ever did, pretty much before or since.  I firmly believe that this was Jenny’s passive-aggressive little way to try to off her “Aw, fall down go boom, too bad.”

I say it wasn’t jealousy, as I have since run some experiments to see how she reacted to people.  Jenny had no problems with some other dates I’ve had (like a couple of the young ladies very much); had no issue with us cuddling on the sofa; and, never goosed or otherwise did things to try to get them, including throwing up.  Truth be known, I should have listened to the dog and/or caught on sooner…

Body language was her preferred language, and it helped that I had done as much as I had out at Wolf Park.  It helped me identify, correctly, a lot of what was going on and what she was saying.  Being able to understand and react if and as needed, made our lives together much better and richer.

The closest she ever came to getting non-silent in an interesting way involved a movie on television.  Jenny seemed to get that television and the stereo were not real, but that changed one day.  As background, Jenny was okay with small children, seemed to like or even love teenagers (particularly females), but had a very unsuspected maternal side.

Unbreakable came on one day, and the opening scene of the baby screaming in agony brought Jenny out of a sound sleep and to her feet immediately.  She then proceeded to let me know in every way possible short of barking that something was bad wrong, fixi it, Fix It Now, FIX IT NOW DAMNIT!  She poked, pushed, grunted, moaned, and made an odd noise that was not whine or bark.  The baby was hurt, and needed protection and fixing NOW!  Turns out, though we had little opportunity to explore this, she was VERY protective of infants.  There are days I would dearly love to know more about her life before our life…

The only other time she reacted to any entertainment involved the barking dogs doing Jingle Bells.  I don’t know what one of the dogs is saying, but it wasn’t nice according to Jenny, who was quite willing to discuss it with that dog—to the point I turned off the song. 

About the only other time she would make noise of any type involved boyfriends/potential boyfriends.  My 35 pounds of fuzzy girl was thankfully spayed, as her preference in boyfriends was big and dumb.  If not dumb at the start, to be made dumb.  When I say big, she was mainly interested in boy dogs at 125 pounds or more. 

Her first boyfriend while with me was I believe in the 130 -140 range at the time.  He was big, he wasn’t what I considered the brightest light in the canine sky, and he quickly adored her.  Which led to her showing a side of herself that I never would have suspected:  a domme in a dog suit.  They spent time together when I was doing work out at Wolf Park, and one day I put them in an enclosure so they could play, walked around the side of the nearby house, and heard little girl screams behind me.  But, they didn’t sound right, so…

I sneaked back around and looked from a direction and location that wouldn’t be obvious.  What I saw wasn’t her screaming.  I was torn between laughter and shaking my head at him, as Jenny was in full “Roll Over!  Bark for Mommy!” mode.  It was so bad that several of us considered buying the male dog in question a leather strap slave-boy outfit.  Still sort of wish we had done that. 

She did give challenge one day to the largest wolf at Wolf Park.  He was out on a walk, and she was in an enclosure as I worked at the park.  She saw him, and gave what I thought at first was challenge.  With her being scared of little or nothing in the animal world, I was at first just glad that she was inside the enclosure.  It also helped that Kiri was not upset with what she said, but seemed amused and curious.  The more I thought about it, however, the more I came to wonder if it was pure challenge, or a challenge of a different sort.  She did like them big…

She didn’t vocalize a lot, but she said a lot.  It was always interesting to watch her, and her reaction to things. 

The Story of Jenny, Part 1
The Story of Jenny, Part 2
The Story of Jenny, Part 3
The Story of Jenny, Part 5

Wednesday, October 05, 2011

The Story of Jenny, Part 3

Again, remember that in many ways these are the notes that may become the book that has already been suggested.  It is a way of sharing her with you further, and maybe giving some context to some of the posts about her on Facebook and elsewhere.  Enjoy.

The weather never seemed to bother her, except for rain and thunder.  Loud booms of any type were a source of absolute panic, and no matter what I did to try to help that, it never got any better.  Rain was in the category of water, which was for drinking in limited amounts and nothing else.  Most especially getting wet, and baths. 

Jenny regarded her place in life as being out on point.  In our walks, she was always straining at the lead and it was clear from the coughing that even the slightest touch to the front of her throat could bring that this was nothing new.  No effort at training, not even using techniques used in taking wolves on walks, ever changed this.  When we were out around the house, my shoulder joints took a good bit of punishment from not just the constant pulling, but what happened when she saw an outdoor cat or a rabbit.  For all of being just 35 pounds, she could do a fairly good imitation of a run-away horse and I wondered a couple of times if she really could drag me along and for how far. 

Our walks out at Wolf Park were a rare time when I could let her off the leash.  Around a good chunk of the perimeter of the park was a double-fenced trail.  Here, I could let her off to explore, hunt, and run to her heart’s content.  This was always a special time and place for her, and she loved it and the time there more than can be expressed.  The walks also helped cement our bond, as we became the partnership that shaped our lives. 

A ride in a car was not a happy thing for her at first, as apparently her experience with such was to have been dumped.  The trips to Wolf Park helped with that, and she came to regard any trip in the car as a trip to the Park.  I also began taking her on trips to the grocery store and other places, so that we spent time together and worked on making the car a not-scary thing.  These worked best in the winter or when things were cool, so that she could stay safely inside the car while I was away.  Freezing temps didn’t phase her, as the double coat meant that she enjoyed temperatures almost into the single digits. 

The trip we took together as I did a series of video interviews with writers from Baen Books (she has a cameo in the David Weber videos) will always be a treasured memory.  She quickly figured out that this was not a normal trip, both from the rental car and from the different route.  Somewhere around Indianapolis, as she was glaring at the trucks that she seemed to think were growling something nasty at her, she suddenly realized that those other things outside our car had people in them.  It was a literal light-bulb moment for her, and she spent the next few hours avidly looking at the scenery and the other cars, fascinated by the people in them.  So much so that she dropped in exhaustion later, and barely even stirred when we had a near-miss in West Virginia.  She lifted her head, and basically said “We missed?  Good.  *clunk*”

The only problem with her in the car was she didn’t always stay in her seat.  The front passenger seat was hers, almost from the start, and it was there that she would survey the world or sleep as the humor took her.  When we stopped, however, and I got out, she would quite often move over to the driver’s seat.  When it was warm, I often used a spare car key to leave it running for the AC, and locked.  What some people thought when they came out to find a running car with a fuzzy girl sitting behind the wheel must have been great; and, I know some of the looks I saw were indeed priceless. 

To be honest, there were days I had to practically fight to get back into my seat.  Jenny was always passive aggressive on such “fights” and would simply refuse to move.  I would have to slide in, and literally push her such that she would decide to get back into her seat.  I’m sure that the battles were amusing to those who witnessed, and could not have blamed anyone who was putting wagers on her winning. 

The heated seats were a pain to her at first given her double coat and love of the cold.  It was not until some bitter cold hit, and old age, that she came to even remotely like the heated seat.  Much as with AC and heat in the house, she decided she could accept such decadent living.  At least in the winter, though I had to check quite often to be sure she hadn’t accidentally cut it on while getting in.  Of course, it also paid to check my own switch as she seemed to have a knack for cutting it on during the summer (and off a few times in the winter). 

When it came to the car, Dog was not my copilot, but my navigator.  Or, naviguesser as the case may be.  She was my right seat on trips, errands, and more.  She made sure no four-legged varmint messed with the car when we were out.  Aside from some occasional concern that I was taking her to the vet or for a bath, she loved going with me where I went.  Her place was at my side, and out on point when we were moving on foot.  It was good to see her go from being afraid of rides to enjoying them.

When I would take her to Wolf Park for walks and such, it could be quite late when we headed home.  At those times, she would stand in her seat, and lean her head into the hollow of my right shoulder, and press in.  It was her way of saying thanks, of sharing the love she felt, and of cementing that we were indeed a team and pack.  I’m going to miss that. 

The Story of Jenny, Part 1
The Story of Jenny, Part 2
The Story of Jenny, Part 4
The Story of Jenny, Part 5

Tuesday, October 04, 2011

The Story of Jenny, Part 2

I often refer to Jenny as 35 pounds of double-coated attitude.  She was a fluffy girl, with a gorgeous coat that made almost everyone want to touch and stroke her.  The type of coat that many would insist should make her a pampered princess who lived to be groomed and admired.  The fact was, she was just the opposite, a tom-boy in many respects. 

She would be the first to tell you that she was not a girly-girl, but a great and mighty hunter who had no truck with grooming and being dolled up.  She was rough, she was tough, and she lived to explore.  If she was interested in something, she would be extremely focused on that thing.  If she didn’t see where it mattered to her, she would dismiss it to the point of ignoring it’s very existence.  And, she wasn’t shy about letting you know how she felt about something.

Her first trip to the vet and the groomer’s are excellent examples of the latter.  In both cases, when I got her in the car to take her home, Jenny sat in the passenger seat with her back pointedly to me, head turned even further away, radiating on all frequencies “I am NOT happy with you.” She never did like going to the vet, but I think she loved Miss Tina and one of her assistants a great deal.  If it weren’t for that whole icky bath thing, she really did enjoy her time there.  It was also good in that she got to socialize with other dogs and cats, as well as enjoy the non-bath times with the people. 

What happened when we got home from the first visit to the groomer’s tells far more about her than my words ever can.  Miss Tina had put a bow on her collar, and once we were back in the house yard, Jenny turned her head to the bow.  She worked a second and then carefully spit the bow—still perfectly tied—onto the ground and turned away from it with a sniff. 

She eventually did accept the bows, and Miss Tina worked hard to find bows that fit her spirit.  Some had an Army theme, others were more boy bows.  She wore to the grave the last one she got, in some ways the most girly ever being red with white polka dots, for those bows had indeed become a part of who she was. 

Things settled down, and while she had major interests in getting out and exploring (and hunting those nasty rabbits!), she lost her desire to try to find “home.” Instead, my house became our home and she proceeded to make it very clear to all critters that this was HER yard and they were not welcome. 

She was never a jumper, as even then she had arthritis in her hips.  Instead, she would dig and I spent considerable time and energy blocking her efforts to get out of the yard.  The yard was where she wanted to spend her time, and early on she mostly disdained air conditioning and heating, except on the worst days.  So that she could safely be left to enjoy and defend her yard, I devise an aerial cable system that let her roam a good chunk of the house yard.  Ultimately, when I began to slowly redo the fence to the house yard (an ongoing project), I incorporated the same anti-dig features as used at Wolf Park. 

When I talk about focus, her world was very limited by her own choice.  There were those things that were of interest to her, and then there were the things that as far as she was concerned, didn’t exist. 

A favorite example of her focus was the bison out at Wolf Park.  One day, as we were walking, she saw the bison at a distance and was interested in them.  As we got closer, the bison took an interest in her and came over to the fence.  Now, this is not necessarily a good thing, and has the potential to be a bad thing.  At the point where we got close to each other, Jenny was much more interested in a critter scent she had detected.  She looked up at the bison who was checking her out, sort of flipped her head, and kept going—pretty much dismissing the bison from her world.  The look on the bison’s face was priceless, as being totally dismissed and ignored was not what it expected.  Puzzlement, a dawning realization it had been quite totally dissed, and I do wish I could have gotten a photo of that look. 

If she saw a reason to her mind for a behavior rule, she would do what was required; but, if she didn’t see a good reason for it, she would refuse to have anything to do with it.  When I first got her and was taking her for walks near where we lived, I tried to teach her to stop and sit for a minute whenever she got to a paved road.  She clearly didn’t see a point in it (and never saw cars as a threat), and finally just put her paw down and refused to do it.  I did finally give up that fight, and settled on doing things that were more important in our mutual training of each other. 

Another good example is that she was the only dog I’ve ever known who could and did say “WhattttEVER!” with headshake for emphasis.  I would be trying to get her to do something, or making her conform to something already done that she thought was just plain silly, and I would get the head circle and clearly hear the phrase.  She would then do whatever was required, but in a way that made clear what she thought of it.

I do wish that I could have a video of one thing that happened.  She was trying hard to tell me something one day, and I just wasn’t getting it.  Her frustration grew and grew, and finally, she tossed her head in a circle and stamped her right paw down hard.  You could just hear the words “Stupid HUMAN!” being said. 

For all that spirit, she was a loving thing.  She was never a cuddlebug that would climb into your lap and demand attention.  If she wanted attention, you might get poked with a muzzle, but more often it was a champion lean against you.  She quite often moved my office chair on its wheels with those leans, and usually got the skritching she wanted. 

Especially as our time together grew, we would simply share companionable silences, glad to simply be near one another.  We rarely shared the sofa, as if we were up on it together, and I moved more than once a half hour, she would raise up, theatrically sigh, and slowly get down on the floor (with more sighing) because of the disturbance.  Her preferred place was quite often on a pad below where I normally sit, because I could then reach down and skritch her.  Even when not doing that, she liked to be close, but retaining her independence.  I think that worked well for both of us, as we each liked our independence but also enjoyed having the other close by. 

The Story of Jenny, Part 1
The Story of Jenny, Part 3
The Story of Jenny, Part 4
The Story of Jenny, Part 5

Monday, October 03, 2011

The Story of Jenny, Part 1

I’ve already had someone suggest I write a book, but all journeys start with a single step.  This may be the step that leads to such, but for now it is way of sharing the wonderful spirit that was her with you.  It is a way to work through some things, and honor her.  Without her, I likely would not have come back from my first embed to Iraq, for she was the only reason I did not sell the house via proxy and continue to report.  For now, here is part one of the The Story of Jenny.

For all that I have been a planner of life, the best and most wonderful things in life are never planned.  That is a good and wonderful thing, and if one is open in life to new things, to the unplanned and even somewhat scary, life becomes a rich and wonderful banquet. 

For all that I was thinking and planning about one day getting a dog, actually doing so was far from my mind back in 2006.  It was a thing for the future, not the now.  Then, 35 lbs of double-coated fuzzy attitude was literally tossed from a car and into my life.  A car sped through Brookston, Indiana, and rolled up in front of some children.  A dog was tossed out, and as the car raced off one of the people in it told the kids to watch her until animal control came.

The kids were young, but not stupid.  They immediately went to get adults, and one of the first they got to was someone I knew from volunteering at Wolf Park.  She looked at the medium-sized friendly dog, and in the process of starting the rescue thought to herself “Blake needs a dog.” The rescue progressed and another person from Wolf Park was brought in to house her for the evening, and they also said “Blake needs a dog.”

The next thing I knew, I was asked to come out to Wolf Park and meet her.  I did, and as I walked into the kitchen of the intern’s dorm, a beautiful face looked up at me.  She was white, and the guard hairs of her coat had gold tips to them, giving her a very distinctive look.  She was cautious, unsure, but handled the situation well.  It was clear she enjoyed getting treats, and she liked to explore.  The interns and I sat around and called out names to see if she might respond to one, but the only one she showed any recognition of was Jenny.  It clearly wasn’t what she had been called, but at that moment it became her name. 

To be honest, we were not real sure of each other at first.  She clearly missed her home, what family she had, and wanted to go back to it.  I wondered what I was getting in to, and how she would behave over time.  So, we cautiously sniffed and explored each other, figuratively circling around trying to figure the other out.  Somewhere over the next few months, the dog got Blake, and I came to belong to her. 

During that time, we did search to make sure that her being dumped was not part of some nasty break-up or such.  No one responded to the inquiries, no one reported a missing dog of her description.  What home she had had, was gone. 

Of her life before we’ve only been able to figure out bits and pieces.  It was likely that she had been dumped at least twice in her life, based on both behaviors and some small bits of physical evidence.  She had been spayed, and from the job most likely at a shelter.  She was abused at some point, and one such who did so to her was male, brown/black hair, medium height, and drank cheep beer.  This bit of knowledge came from her reaction to males of a certain description and her response to a certain beer label. 

She had no interest in toys, and fetch was not in her vocabulary.  The first time I threw a ball to see if she would chase it, she immediately tucked, curled, and cringed.  Her only apparent experience with balls and throwing was to have been thrown at.  She did not like or use squeeky toys, and the utter contempt and pity she showed to dogs who did was both amusing and amazing. 

At some point in her life, a young girl, long dark hair, thin build, and most likely a teenager, was a positive influence in her life and it was clear that Jenny had adored her.  Her response to a friend’s teenage daughter was the key to identifying that. 

Our life together was very mixed at first.  Jenny was determined to get “home” wherever that was, and she was also determined to be in charge.  She pushed on that hard, resulting in us almost getting into a wrestling match one day while out on a walk at Wolf Park.  We were both determined to be alpha, and it took a major mistake on her part, with the right response from me, to end the open campaign on that. 

I was sitting on my living room floor skritching her chest for a bit, and then stopped.  She then nipped me on the chest as an order to continue.  I used everything I had learned from an alpha wolf out at Wolf Park to respond, and at no time did I touch her.  Instead, I used sounds and body language to make it clear that such would NOT be tolerated.  Her eyes grew big and you could tell she knew she had made a mistake—and she never made that one again.  Nor did she openly challenge me, though she continued to do her best in her own passive aggressive way to train me.  Bless her heart, she did despair that she would ever get me properly trained, and I did my best to encourage that despair. 

The Story of Jenny, Part 2
The Story of Jenny, Part 3
The Story of Jenny, Part 4
The Story of Jenny, Part 5

Monday, September 26, 2011

Some Things For Sale

Well, for a number of reasons (including cleaning up and out) I am selling part of my science fiction library, some collectibles, china, artwork, and more.  The current list is in the extended entry.  Drop me a line at blake andAT blakepowers andDOT net for questions or offers. 

The Hunt for Red October, Movie Edition, autographed (good to mint)
The Hunt for Red October, 1st paper?, autographed(good)
Patriot Games, 1st paper?, autographed (good)
The Cardinal of the Kremlin, 6th paper, autographed (good to mint)
Robert Adams, Friends of the Horseclans, 1st PB/1st, autographed (good to mint)
Robert Adams, The coming of the Horseclans, 5th PB, autographed (good to mint)
Robert Adams, Book of Alternate Worlds, 1st PB/1st?, autographed (fair to good)
James P. Hogan, Rockets, Redheads & Revolution, 1st PB/1st?, autographed (mint)
James P. Hogan, Inherit the Stars, 15th PB, autographed (good to mint)
James P. Hogan, The Proteus Operation, ???, autographed (good to mint)
James P. Hogan, Giants Star, 10th PB, autographed (good)
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, A Flame of Byzantium, 1st PB, autographed (good to mint)
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro, Crusader’s Torch, 1st PB, autographed (mint)
John Maddox Roberts, Spacer: Window of the Mind, 1st PB/1st, autographed (good to mint)
Lois McMaster Bujold, The Warrior’s Apprentice, 2nd PB, autographed, mint
Somtow Sucharitkul, Mallworld, 1st PB?, autographed (fair to good)
Somtow Sucharitkul, The Thone of Madness, 1st PB, autographed (good)
Somtow Sucharitkul, The Aquiliad, 1st PB, autographed (good)
Somtow Sucharitkul, V:  The Alien Swordmaster, autographed (fair to good)
Orson Scott Card, Speaker for the Dead, autographed (good to mint)
Orson Scott Card, Xenocide, (good to mint)
Steve Vance, Spook, 1st HC, autographed-sticker (mint)
Dickson, Spacepaw, 1st PB?, autographed (good to mint)
Dickson, The Dragon and the George, 1st PB?, autographed (good)
Dickson, Soldier, Ask Not, 7th PB?, autographed (good)
Dickson, The Forever Man, 1st PB, autographed (good to mint)
Dickson, The Final Encyclopedia, 1st PB, autographed (good)
Dickson, Necromancer, 1st PB?, autographed (good to mint)
Dickson, Dorsai!, Sphere (British) 1st PB?, autographed (good to mint)
Dickson, Lost Dorsai, 6th PB, autographed (good)
Dickson, The Dorsai Companion, 1st Trade Paper w/Ace Release Letter included (good to mint)
Dickson, The Spirit of Dorsai, 7th PB, autographed (good)
Dickson, Tactics of Mistake, ???, autographed (good)
Dickson, Dorsai! 7th PB, autographed (fair)
Dickson, The Dragon Knight, 1st HC (mint)
Dickson, Young Bleys, 1st HC (mint)
John Barnes, A Million Open Doors, 2nd PB? (mint)
John Barnes, The Sky So Big and Black, 1st PB (mint)
John Barnes, The Duke of Uranium, 1st PB (good to mint)
John Barnes, A Princess of the Aerie, 1st PB (good to mint)
Zahn, Deadman Switch, 1st PB, autographed (good to mint)
Zahn, Cobra, 3rd PB, autographed (good to mint)
Zahn, Cascade Point, 1st PB, autographed (good)
Zahn, Cobra Strike, 1st PB, autographed (good to mint)
Zahn, Time Bomb, 1st PB, autographed (good to mint)
Zahn, The Backlash Mission, 1st PB, autographed (good)
Zahn, Conquerors Pride, 1st PB, autographed (good to mint)
Zahn, Distand Friends and Others, 1st PB, autographed (mint)
Zahn, The Blackcollar, 3rd PB, autographed (mint)
Zahn, Conquerors’ Legacy, 1st PB, autographed (mint)
Zahn, Cobra Bargain, 1st PB, autographed (good to mint)
Zahn, Warhorse, 1st PB, autographed (mint)
Zahn, A Coming of Age, 1st PB, autographed (mint)
Zahn, Spinneret, 1st PB, autographed (good to mint)
Zahn, Triplet, 1st PB, autographed (good to mint)

Set of hardcovers issued in England by the Science Fiction Book Club, in fair to good condition (they are old!).  Have volumes 1-7, 9-41, volume 8 is missing.  None autographed to the best of my knowledge.

A technical drawing of the USS Enterprise that has been signed by DeForest Kelley, Nichelle Nichols, George Takei, Walter Koenig, and Grace Lee Whitney. It is approximately 28x40 inches in size.

Set of Geisha blue china, 8 of each piece

Set of Regency white bone china, send for details

Bronze statue, Reclining Nude Woman by Chiparus

Bronze statue/lamp, Girl with Doves by Lefauguays

Farscape collectible action figures

Misc. science fiction collectibles

More to be added soon. 

Thursday, September 08, 2011

Jenny’s Not Good Day

As some of you may know, Jenny has had a very rough year.  It began back around July 4, 2010, with a series of strokes.  I’m not sure how many strokes she has had since that time, but there appear to have been several.  She has had problems with her eyes, with something that looked almost like the carbon dioxide bubbles in soda, but still, in her eyes.  This robbed most of her sight, though she appeared to still be able to distinguish light and dark to some extent.  In the last six months, cataracts have formed and robbed her of even that.  It was also during this time that a tentative diagnosis of the onset of the canine version of Alzheimer’s was made.  Despite this, she clearly continued to enjoy life, and even explored things with something close to her usual abandon. 

Her vet remarked a few weeks ago during her annual physical that some dogs made it hard to tell their age, because they remained “young” right up until old age hit, and when it hit, it hit hard.  That has been the last six months for Jenny, with more happening in the last six weeks I think than in the time before.  She’s been getting “lost” in the sense of both getting lost in terms of navigation and in terms of not knowing who she was, where she was, or even who I am.  Yesterday, this all came to a head.

Our day started fairly well.  Mornings are usually a very good time for her.  She clearly wasn’t at the top of her game, but was mostly here and somewhat insistent on her normal routine.  Routine has always been important to her, but recently it has been a necessity.  She received her cheese treats early on (I refer to her in the morning as a Chizu, *cheese-zu* as a play on the Japanese Kappa “demon” and ask her safe passage for the day) and we took our morning walk to the post office.  She wasn’t interested in exploring or marking, which might should have been a tip, but I was thrilled that we did part of it as a jog.  She was off, but not so far off that I was worried. 

Little miss independent has been a bit of a cuddlebug recently, and she was yesterday morning too.  Her balance has been going down a bit, and it was down during a lean and skritch session (she leans hard against me or my chair, and I skritch).  At her request, I let her outside and I let her stay out a bit to enjoy the gorgeous day.  When I went to let her in was when it was clear there were problems.  She had trouble getting up, staggered badly when trying to walk, and veered badly to the right as she tried to walk.  She was completely unable to home in on my voice (I’ve been using voice and heavy footsteps to help guide her for a couple of months now) and was in a bit of a panic.  I got her inside, and while she did remember to stop for her treat (she always gets one upon coming inside, and I think that may be the absolutely last thing to go from her mind), but was completely lost.  She flopped down, and I went and sat on the sofa.  I called her to me for another treat, and she got up, and went completely the wrong direction, got panicked, and just lay down in defeat. 

It was then that I called the vet’s office, and accepted the fact that I not only might have to put her down, but might have to do so that day.  Jenny and I are very lucky to have an excellent vet, and she took the time to talk to me and outline some options.  Based on all we can see and know (and I have not listed all here), we both suspect that there may be a brain lesion or tumor in play.  We are going to try some medicine that may help improve the quality of her days, though it will do nothing to give her more days if it works.  It is not a cure, just something that could—if she can tolerate it—let her enjoy more of what time she has.  The vet also warned me that we could be in for “yo-yo” days as her condition swings up and down. 

What this means is that neither of us knows how long Jenny has.  At the rate things have been going, I suspect that time is short and I suspect the vet does as well since I now have means to reach her pretty much 24/7.  Much of what happens now is up to Jenny.  She let me know yesterday that she was not happy, and did not like things.  This moderated a bit in the late afternoon, as she bounced back a bit.  If she has a seizure, the vet will be called.  If she tells me that she is ready now, the vet will be called. 

In many respects, it is up to Jenny.  She does still have periods where she enjoys life to some extent, or even a good bit.  I want to give her as many of those moments as I can.  Meantime, she’s getting some visits from friends who want to say goodbye.  While we don’t know how long she may have, so it is better not to take chances.  I would rather have them come out now and she hang on a while, than for them to miss the opportunity. 

For me, I prepare for the yo-yo days and the rollercoaster they will be.  I am going to try very hard to get us back into routine today, as that helps her.  It also will help me a bit, by allowing me to focus somewhat on other things.  When needed, the vet will come here so that Jenny will be at home when the time comes. 

My thanks to all who sent love and support yesterday.  It was a rough day for both Jenny and myself, and your thoughts, prayers, and love helped.  For now, we simply wait, and take what time does come.  She will be spoiled even more than usual, and get lots of skritches and belly rubs.  What time she has will be filled with as many good things as possible, and we will enjoy those minutes given to us. 

Wednesday, May 04, 2011

Cooking with the Troops Sponsorship Video

Yes, I’ve been quiet, in part because I want/need to redo the site and lack the funds and skills to do so.  That said, lots of things have been happening, and Cooking with the Troops is moving forward.  We’ve gotten a lot of good people involved, and done an amazing amount of work.  Some of the good people involved are 3Media Partners who have put together this amazing video as part of an effort to get us the sponsors we need to really kick it up a notch—or three:

Enjoy and spread the word.

LW

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Merry Christmas!

From Jenny and myself, we wish you a Very Merry Christmas!  May your day be bright with love, laughter, joy, and health.  Take a moment to remember those who serve far away so that we may enjoy this day, and those who have paid the price for freedom. 

LW

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Repeat: Oldie But A Goodie

This does need a drink and keyboard alert, and an alert that this plays into my very warped sense of humor.  If you are easily offended, an extreme social con, or other wet blanket, don’t click.  For the rest of us good people, a repeat from last year, click and enjoy. 

LW

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Into The Light:  John Steakley

Well, damn.  John William Steakley Jr. has passed into the light.  John was an acquaintance from way back, and one of those people that when you bumped into him it was as if no time had passed at all.  A character, in the good sense, he was an author, a speaker, and much more.  His book Armor is one of those that most should read but don’t.  He was a good person to share a panel with, listen to when he spoke, and even better when you just sat and talked with him.  He will be missed.

LW

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Giving Thanks

Today, Americans gather to eat a massive meal, watch parades, events, and competitions on television, and otherwise enjoy a day off.  The original meaning is, honestly, probably lost for many because we do not fear starvation in the coming months of winter cold.  Despite that, quite a few will take at least a minute to say thanks for the last year, and it is especially right that I do so today with you. 

This last year has been quite a year for me, one such that someone I know upon hearing “the latest” from someone a few months ago blurted out “How much more can he take?!?” Looked at strictly for the negatives, it is a valid question.  My employment ended after a bit over a year of hell.  Jenny has gone fully blind, had a series of strokes, and has what appears to be the onset of canine dementia (think Alzheimer’s for dogs).  There have been other delights on the same level.  Quite a few, in fact.

I could never be so lucky again. 

Let’s step outside the box and look at this last year from a different perspective.  It can be hard to do, but is so worth the effort…

For all that I could say about the last year plus at Purdue, I can also honestly say I met and had the chance to work with some amazing people—particularly out away from my area.  One example is meeting and working with someone that if I ever have to stage an event or production, they will be the first person I call.  Together, we did what some said was impossible, and not only did it get done it got done well.  There are a couple of other examples, but that’s a good one to share.  It is people like them that cause me to respect Purdue as an institution, no matter what I think of anyone else.  As long as they and those like them work there, it will be a good solid place at the core. 

Time is indeed catching up with my dear sweet Jenny.  Her eyesight is pretty well gone, and there are days I am pretty sure it is gone completely.  She had a series of strokes in June and July, such that I thought she would not survive the 4th.  Checking on that led to the realization that she is showing signs of mental drop as well.  I treasure the good moments with her more than ever.  If it has slowed her down, and forced her to become an inside dog, well, she still will go patrol the yard and vigorously announce and attack any four-footed thing that comes near or in.  Those she hunts have little to fear, but she does it still and I actually enjoy having her try to steal my spot on the sofa from me.  Many things are lost, but the love and companionship grow stronger for the loss. 

The year has tested relationships of various types at various levels.  I will be honest and say that in a few cases, I have been the one to let others down by not stepping up as I should have.  I will be honest and say that I was very disappointed by some others.  Yet, as but one example of many, I saw someone I would go so far as to describe as an active enemy become a friend, and show signs of becoming what I call a true friend.  For all that was lost, and some treasured things were indeed lost, I have gained so much more. 

I have had some of the proverbial sleepless nights, worred (in a panic even) over finances and other delights.  The next dawn may not have brought the answer, but the next several dawns have invariably done so.  Hard choices were and are needed; yet, a right answer (even if not the one I wanted) has always arrived.  When you realize that, how can one not have faith, and confidence in the ultimate good of all that takes place? 

My blood family sadly continues to shrink.  Yet, I am glad for those that are left and for having known those that are gone.  I am quite happy to know that others join me in remembering those gone, for as long as they are remembered in laughter and love, they really are still here.  My mail this morning brought a message from a former neighbor, a friend, who on this day each year raises a toast to my parents.  You see, when my parents were alive and did Thanksgiving at my house, we made him a part of it.  The fact that he was ethnically different, of a different nationality, and even a very different cultural perspective was not an impediment.  Indeed, it was what made it wonderful and special, for he was and is that and it added so much to the day to have him a part of it. 

Which brings us to a very important point, and to you.  That point is family.  One definition is that family is a group that has to take you in, no matter what.  I think that there are better ones, and that an important concept is that family are the individuals who know you for good and ill, and will invite you in any way.  There are some here that fully fit that definition.  Another is that family are those we fight with unless and until someone else comes along.  Again, there is some truth to that one here as well.  Fact is, you come here and attack anyone without just cause, and I will have their back.  Like doesn’t factor in to it, brotherhood does.  Come here and demand that we walk in some rigid lockstep (or insist that we do so no matter the obvious disagreements in posts and comments), well, don’t let the door hit your obvious brain compartment on the way out.  The first is your problem, not ours.  The second, well it shows your mental shortcomings clearly and I suspect that it is a sign of, er, other shortcomings as well.  Both are your issues, not ours.  I’ve found that those who insist on a, er, measuring contest do so out of deep-seated and well-founded insecurity…

If you’ve stuck with this, what this all means is that family can be and is more than just mere blood.  One of things for which I have been thankful for many years are some of you here.  Getting to meet a number of you in person has been a blessing, and has enriched my life and that has continued this last year.  Some of you I still haven’t met, but you’ve stepped up by e-mail or phone and enriched my life that way.  For that, and for the simple opportunity to get to “meet” you here in comments, I truly do give thanks.

This last year has seen my passion take form, and for that I am truly thankful.  As background, I have never felt more alive, and more confident that I was in the right place, at the right, time, for the right reasons, and doing the right thing than when I was on embed with the troops.  It was not so much that I was telling their stories; rather, it was that I was the means for them to tell their story.  Doing that also set me on a course of trying to do more for them, and in particular for the wounded and those that give care. 

That led directly and ultimately to Cooking with the Troops.  Concrete Bob and I probably drove some mad both with our determination and on getting “bogged down” with a level of detail that some thought unneeded and unnecessary.  That detail, however, has paid off.  In just about six months time, we have gone from incorporation to ringing the opening bell of the NASDAQ stock exchange.  We are moving fast to raise funds and not just do food events, but to take the first steps on three major new program areas.  It took having some people hit me over the head with it (yes, that is the best way to get something in there), but it is not just something I care about, it is my passion in life. 

It is a passion that may well allow me to eventually do the embeds that I love and the troops support I have to do.  Not want, not need—have to do.  I can do no less, and want very much to do more.  How can one not be thankful to clearly see what one should do, and have the means to do it take form?  It has come with a cost, but I give thanks that I not only could pay it, but that I did so.  My life is much the richer for that cost and the loss that went with it. 

I give thanks for Bob, and having the opportunity to get to know him better.  For the opportunity and privilege to get to know Susan Katz Keating and Mary Katharine Ham.  For the opportunity to get to meet and do with those who serve.  For we do not do for them, we do it with them, and that makes all the difference in the world. 

For all that is lost, I am the richer.  For all that has come into my life, I am richer.  For those that have come into my life, I am richer.  For the new family that includes so many here, I am richer. 

For the richness and opportunity this year has brought, I do truly give thanks this day.  I also offer my thanks to all for the opportunity to share and make a difference for the better. 

As a final thought, I give thanks to all who serve.  For those of you on the line this day so that I and others may enjoy it, my profound thanks.  We deserve not people like you, but are damned glad that you serve anyway. 

LW

Saturday, November 20, 2010

NASDAQ Tuesday Opening Bell

Yes, the reports are true:  Cooking with the Troops will be ringing the NASDAQ opening bell on Tuesday 23 November.  You can watch it live here or go here if you have trouble. 

Friday, November 05, 2010

Some Commentary In The Washington Times

Check it out and help us spread the word. 

LW

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Your Keyboard Urgently Needed!

With your help, we’ve had a good start in new and social media.  Now, we need to take this to the traditional media.  We need you to contact your local newspaper, radio, and television stations to tell them in your own words about Operation FPH Blues.  Point out that Gina and all are available for interviews. Keep in mind that local media feeds regional, and if you get it into the local news it will help it grow.  We also need you to e-mail and/or tweet the following :

Tweet @TheEllenShow and tell her about Operation FPH Blues, and why Gina, Ellen, and Mike would make good guests on her show.  If there are other shows/hosts you follow on Twitter (or here), hit them too.  There is more to come today on how you can help with a few clicks of a mouse and a few keystrokes.  It’s easy, it should be fun, and it can make a huge difference. 

Hit http://www.cnn.com/feedback/tips/index.html and tell them why they should cover Operation FPH Blues; and, do the same at http://www.cbsnews.com/htdocs/feedback/fb_news_form.shtml?tag=ftr for CBS Evening News, CBS Evening News w/Katie Couric, CBS Morning News, & The Early Show.

Then hit your e-mail and tell mailbag2@thebigshow.com and bobandtom@bobandtom.com why they should cover this, and have Gina, Ellen, or Mike as guests.  Point out to Bob and Tom that Mike is local, and that CwtT is Indiana-based.  Then e-mail warstories@foxnews.com, redeye@foxnews.com,kelly@foxnews.com, americasnewsroom@foxnews.com, friends@foxnews.com, hannity@foxnews.com, glennbeck@foxnews.com, newswatch@foxnews.com, oreilly@foxnews.com, newsmanager@foxnews.com

Thanks for your time and help on this! 

Content copyright C. Blake Powers and the individual authors. Comments become the property of C. Blake Powers and may be altered, edited, deleted, and used by C. Blake Powers or the individual authors without restriction or recompense.