A Chicken Is Not Pillage

Still Fresh In That Awful Hurts Like Hell Kinda Way

Lizard's family has lost a friend, a companion, a beautiful child.  Though Lizard and I are a far cry from what anyone would consider 'friends' I've shed some tears on his behalf over the last 24.  Losing a dog (that sounds so tawdry, "a dog") is a thing I wish on absolutely no one.  Not even Dubya Bush.    I dread encountering posts or news on the Intertubes concerning the loss of a dog.  I know those people are in pain, and there is nothing that can be done save to share the pain, and wish it were not so.  Regardless of any religious belief, I find it the cruelest thing in the Universe that humans live so very many years, and dogs live so few.

I grew up with stock. some of whom I loved as pets.  The only animals I had as true companions were cats.  Our dogs were always Aussies, and they tend to be single person canines.  I was never that person and I was fine with that.  Over a quarter of a century ago, dogs came into my life that were 'mine', two little Shetland Sheep Dogs named Sheena and Fenris.   Brother and sister.  They were 'vocal' and messy and I couldn't have loved them more.  But, at the request of my human companion at the time, I gave them up because we were moving into married student housing.  I cried for 4 full hours, doubling over in agony, and have frequently told people since that day was one of the most painful in my entire life.  When Chris and I first got a dog together, I told my beloved that I will never give up a canine companion again.  I love Chris for so many reasons, not the least of which is that she so completely understands and agrees.

A little over 3 years ago, we had Mara put to sleep.  I really kinda thought I was over that.  Yet every time I hear or read of someone losing a dog, I simply can't help crying.  Silly people have called orgasm 'the little death'.  No.  Just No.  Losing a companion that loves so completely and so very honestly, that is a little death.  A part of you just goes away.  I don't believe in Rainbow Bridges or happy reunions at the Dog Park in the sky.  These beings whose love is among the best to be had are just gone, taking a part of who you are with them.  That's a wound that never heals.  It will always be fresh, in that awful 'Hurts like hell' kinda way.

Yet we go on, and indeed we should.  We stupidly fall in love with even more dogs, knowing that another part of our hearts will get 'removed' someday in the future.  And that truly is okay, because each one adds so much to what we experience when we are alive, and they are alive to add to it.  They do what few other humans can do.  They see us as the best of what we can be.  They don't question, or demand agreement.  They don't sit in judgement.  They don't care if our farts smell or we yell at them in frustration or that we act like they are somehow lesser beings or that we got the raise at work or that we like a manicured backyard more than their playful antics.  They just think we are all that and then some.

Maybe when I get older and even more of a curmudgeon, I'll be able to say a hearty ~pshaw~ when someone I know loses a good friend.  That isn't this day. Lizard, I really do share your pain, and understand the depth of love it took to generate.  My sympathy.  All my sympathy.

Happy Birthday, Skete

The Sketer Bug is one year old today.  I need to find a way to make beef tallow candles to stick in his liver birthday dinner.

Heartbreaking

I hear that it is, anyway.  I seriously don't have the heart to watch this.  There is nothing like the love of a dog, and the loss of any life breaks more than one heart.

 

Weird, With Pee!

I just made a run to Belgrade to drop off half a cup of dog piss.  How odd is that?

My beloved has become a crusader against the early neutering of pet animals.  Her research has been prodigious.  She may even have made a convert of our Vet, but that remains to be seen.  We now find ourselves on the cutting edge of American animal science.  Weird.

Still, it makes no sense to castrate or spay animals who rely on hormones to achieve their full growth.  That should be simple enough.  Every loving pet owner understands the same basic dictum: do no harm to those in your care.

I will post more about this as the situation develops.

Odd World

I opened the Sunday Bozeman Comical and was greeted by a third of the page devoted to the grinning visage of Mike Kramer, EX-Coach of the MSU Bobcats.  Fully a third of the A section was devoted to his tale of struggle and woe.  Let me be plain.  I loathed the guy.  He's a remora, attaching himself to the gluteal tissue of any athlete from whom he can suck the visage of success.  I remain hopeful that the Bobcats will destroy the ISU Bengals by 50 points every year for at least the next 5.  I remain fearful for the community of Pocatello, that they face the fury of his flavorless cast-offs.

I came home this evening, and discovered the Sunday paper torn apart across the living room floor.  The puppy has been very good about not destroying things while we're gone, but apparently he couldn't stand Kramer's mug facing him from the coffee table either.  Good dog.

Also in the Sunday paper was a sad retrospective.  27 years ago, the Nichols boys kidnapped biathlete Kari Swenson.  They shot her, and murdered one of her would-be rescuers.  It is a well written article, and kudos to Amanda Ricker for penning it.  When I was in school, a few short years later, I was treated at the MSU health circus by Kari's mom.  A truly amazing lady.  I was struck at the time by how normal and caring one could be while getting over the horrors that we can visit on each other.

Yesterday morning, reading the paper, there was a police report blurb about a man wandering around Hyalight campground with a rifle.  (The reports from the 15th haven't been posted yet, or I would link.)  He was telling campers that they'd better leave because those woods, the forest, belonged to him.  There was no story about his arrest or his threats that certainly terrified a camper or two.  Just the blurb in the police reports.  It's probably the Chronicle's fault, but the first thing I thought of was the Swenson kidnapping and the Mountain Men that captivated the national attention a couple of decades ago.  I realize that this dickhead didn't kidnap a pretty athletic young woman, but how strange it is that this becomes a mundanity relative to where we've been?

I love my dogs.  I love them for their kindness, their courage, their strength in the face of pain, their adoration and their obvious football savvy.  But I love them most because what is wrong, what is odd,  remains strident in their world.

This Ain't Right

A root canal dental procedure for Homo Sapiens Sapiens is $400 - $600 dollars.  A root canal dental procedure for Canis Lupis Familiaris is $1200 - $1700.  Does this actually seem right?

This Is Why

Having two German Shepherds wrestling over who gets to be closest to you is the best of all experience.  Of course, having 140 pounds of dog squirming around your legs is a bit challenging ...

Just For The Record

I've only been posting it at LitW to be ironically educational and mildly irritating, but the puppy really seems to like Rush.   Go figure.

Skeet

My Sis-i-L was fairly unhappy that I didn't post a better picture of the puppy's face.  This is the best we've been able to get, so far.  He's almost as camera shy as Teddy was, camera shy meaning squirmy and un-photographable.  Face it.  These damn dogs are perpetual motion machines.  They just don't tend to slow down.

Unlike any puppy I've ever known, he doesn't nap very well or very consistently.  There's always the doin'.  I'm certain there will be more pictures later.

We've decided to name him Skeet, in honor of the monks of New Skeet, legendary trainers and breeders of the German Shepherd dog.

Our Family Grows

 

 

 

 

 

I remain amazed that something so gangly, awkward and clumsy could become something so athletic, graceful and noble.

 

 

 

 

Yes, we have a new puppy.  He's a 3 month old German Shepherd dog, which ensures about 6 months of coming misery.  We haven't named him quite yet, though I'm leaning towards Yogi bear, since we have a Teddy and a Smokey.  Teddy is already bummed that the puppy doesn't understand big-dog games just yet, but he'll get there.  The puppy already follows Teddy around like he's some kind of excellent life coach (yeah, that's a laugh.)