Hounds of Life

6-10-2011

After my brother passed away in July of 2001 I was blessed with the opportunity to upgrade my living conditions. While I wasn't given his house outright, I was able to move in and it helped to ameliorate his loss. I have written extensively about the loss and it wears on me daily. One of the first things I did after moving in was to acquire a dog - specifically, Dakota. I picked her up at the pound after a bizarre episode involving me, my fiancé' and the ASPCA of Orlando, Florida.

Having decided to solemnize our relationship and declare our relationship before the law and the lord, our first order of business seemed to involve taking on responsibilities that demonstrated, at least to us, our readiness to procreate. Like most new couples, that involved a dog when it should have involved a fish, a hamster, a snake or some other animal lower than a mammal. In retrospect, an ant farm might have been most appropriate, since, after all, who really cares if you forget to feed the ants, or if the ants die. At least with ants you can just toss them out in the yard which precludes flushing the fish down the toilet or finding a shoebox in which to bury the hamster. Least conspicuous of all would have been a rattlesnake which would have at least provided sustenance without the messy requirements of ridding ourselves of the evidence of our incompetence. Jonathan Swift might have been on to something.

Stupid is as stupid does and we dutifully slogged down to the animal shelter, ostensibly to look at what was available, but not to adopt. Being the consummate dork, I had researched what type of dog might be acceptable to us and our emergent lifestyle. My research yielded several important findings. We would be most suited to finding a dog without a wet mouth, that did not shed and that was low energy. We would not fall into the trap of most pound shoppers; we would not be taking a dog home on our first visit. Instead, we would coldly and with cunning calculation, view the animals available, leave the facility and return home to discuss our options, then return when we were confident of adding an animal to our small household that would be a perfect fit.

I think most discerning readers can predict accurately what happened. We walked into the facility and were immediately confronted with the option of turning right or continuing straight. Being a fan of Robert Frost, I opted for the road less traveled and we were immediately confronted with our first option, on the right. A mixed breed dog that was part Yellow Lab, part Golden retriever and part Whippet. An odd looking hound with upright ears and anxious nature, she was appealing. She had been dropped off just 30 minutes prior to our arrival.

We continued down the road less traveled and were confronted with several different snarling, angry versions of Pit Bull or Rottweiler or some strange combination of both. It was clear to both of us that the pick of this litter was the first dog we had seen, the mix that was the first dog on the right.

We asked to have the lab, retriever, whippet mix be let out to play with us in a small enclosure intended for this purpose. I threw a ball, she retrieved it...again and again. I rubbed her ears, pinched her paws and rolled her on her back, all activities advised by my research, in an effort to determine her suitability for our household and the children we had not yet had but were very much counting on. She passed with flying colors.

Having suitably completed our visit, I advised my betrothed that we were ready to return home, much to her dismay. She insisted we take that dog home, "or else someone else would." I responded that would be great as that was the purpose of the pound in the first place and reminded her that we had agreed that we would not be bringing a dog home that day. We were merely looking to see what was available.

There have been many battles that I have lost in the ensuing ten years but this battle is the one I am most glad to have lost. We dropped over two hundred dollars that day on adoption fees, spay fees and equipment, but we brought her home, that Dakota, the hound with the wet mouth, that sheds and that is hyperactive.

We got Dakota home and I commenced her training in the only fashion I knew - a mix of uncommon sense and research. I connected her leash to my belt to teach her to focus on me and recognize me as her leader. All I taught her was to pee in our bathroom. I made her homemade dog food with a pressure cooker from chicken parts and learned that the wrong diet results in bloody diarrhea and vomit in the crate. I learned that dogs do not know when to quit and bloody paw prints on a pool deck indicate it might be time to stop throwing the Frisbee. I learned that if your three year old steps on your sleeping dog, she is going to growl and snap, but she might not bite. I learned that if I try to pull my dog out of a fight with another dog when she thinks she is protecting her kids, she is going to bite me too. I learned to love the dog that pees her bed at night, that sheds enough to knit a new sweater every two days and that barks at shadows now that she is 13 years old. I learned to whistle or to stomp to get her attentions because she is deaf now. I learned to love a noble animal.

And now, as I follow her halting gate up stairs, as I worry about the tumor, fatty and not cancerous I assume, as I brush her, as I hug her, I realize what it means to share a life with a good friend. I have had her for eleven of her thirteen years, and I hope to have her for another eleven. But I know. I know we are nearing the end and I have regret. I regret not training her, not spoiling her and not enjoying her more, and that is why she has been a great dog. She has taught me to raise my kids.

I will not be confronting my last days and thinking the same thoughts about my children. I will not have regrets about time spent with them. I will wear it out daily. This is what my dog, Dakota, has taught me and this is why every man needs a dog.

Whoa!

Lonely, lonely for being a fool. Life is rough and it is kicking my ass right now. I haven’t posted here since May and that is a reflection of the ass kicking life is giving me. I know that the beat down is my own fault, but I still am not treasuring it. Whateve!

I haven’t written in a while and my lack of production is weighing heavily on me. I really need to finish my novel and get it off to an agent so I can move forward, but it is hard. I have kids and a day job and they take a lot of time, but my heart is truly in finishing this novel.

I will roll.

Spike

Morals, Ethics, Honesty

As a writer I am aware of all of the different methods of criticism. Most lay readers aren’t reading for criticism –they are reading for interest. However, I read and write with an eye to the critic. This doesn’t necessarily mean that I write better or more efficiently; it means that I write more defensively. With this in mind I address the issues of the day.

What, exactly, are the issues of the day? In my opinion, the issues are honesty, ethics and morality. Are the leaders of this nation being honest, ethical and moral? Are the leaders of your community being honest, ethical and moral? I think the resounding answer is no.

So, what do you, as an honest, ethical and moral voter and member of the community do about your elected leaders not being honest, ethical and moral? One thing you can do is justify and rationalize their behavior. “Well, they all do it and they are just trying to bring economic development to our neighborhood.” It sounds good when your Congressman tacks on pork for that park when Congress is passing a bill to supply training to Iraqi Police.

However, that Pork takes money out of every taxpayer in America’s pocket. It is stealing. We didn’t vote for the swing set in your park. We voted for Democracy in Iraq. And if it is your Congressman or Senator that attached that pork to the bill, let them know you are unhappy about their actions.

How do you live your life in an honest, ethical and moral fashion? Well, for one thing, you can reduce your carbon footprint. Carpool, walk, ride a bike, buy local and support your community by spending your money there. There are probably five farms within 100 miles of where you live. Buy from them. Carpool to work, ride your bike, do whatever you can to avoid using fossil fuels – turn your heat down, change your filters.

I am tired of paying good money for gas and oil. I don’t think this administration is going to fix it. Speak. Do it by cutting your consumption. If every American saved two gallons of gas, we would cut our dependence on oil by 600 million gallons, or 1.8 billion dollars. It’s a simple equation. Make the math work, please!

Democracy?

Just wondering where we are going as a country when the SEC regulators are cashing in at $225K per year to watch porn while Goldman Sachs perpetrates arguably one of the largest frauds on investors. Is it just me or is our country suffering from a serious lack of morals and ethics? We are rapidly becoming third world – teach your kids to speak Mandarin because it is the new Spanish. When America is funded and backed by China, or any other country, well, “Houston, we have a problem.”

We have always benefited from fiscal relationships with other countries. We need to be diplomatic players in the world, more importantly than being the world cop. However, when we lack the moral spine to perform as a democracy, then we forfeit the right to advocate democracy. What is, and has been, happening in Washington is a travesty. And lest ye dems rise up in arms, I extend my reprobation to the administrations of both W and H, and by association of era, Bill. We forfeit our right to advocate democracy when we no longer participate in one.

Arguably, financial interests run this country. This means big business and big labor. We are corrupt, from the Mayor, or county Supervisor, all the way up to the White House. We fail to provide the minimum necessities to our constituents and hide behind the easy red herring of immigration or filibuster. The fabulously wealthy continue to enrich themselves while the middle continue to bleed sweat, tears and money into the economy. The only outlet for the middle is to climb to the top, at the expense of others. This leads to a lack of morals and ethics. Witness the many Ponzi schemes and frauds that litter the media lately. Trust me, for every one you read about, there are ten that never surface.

So, I guess the lesson is, nice guys finish last. Is this the message we want to export as democracy. Is this what we want to teach Iraq and other emerging “democracies?” No. We are morally bankrupt.

How do we fix this? Get involved, get active. Run for office, run for your school board, and then stay true to your morals. Have a compass to guide you and live a square life.

Manglement

Issue Du Jour:

We all want to get up, but how we get up seems to be an issue. Is it worth climbing over somebody to get to the top? What if that somebody is your dude, your bro, your homey? Is it still worth it?

NO! No, and no.

It is okay to rise through hard work and performance. But, it is not okay to throw someone under the bus, especially a colleague, even if that colleague is not good. It’s better to let your work speak for itself and to deflect credit when credit is due.

“Billy, you did a great job on that project.”

“Well Tony, I got a lot of help on that project from Allan. He’s a superior employee and I am glad to have him on my team.”

Who’s the hero in this situation?

“Billy, you did a great job on that project.”

“Thanks Tony, but I had to do a lot to carry Anne’s load, she was really worthless.”

Do you see how much better Billy looks in the first situation? Of course you do. Why? Because you are smart. Not like your bosses, who are stupid. Work hard, give credit and you will rise. Just ask my friend Nick.

“Nick, tell us about your boss.”
“Well, my new boss is mean. He always threatens to fire us, no matter how hard we work. We grind and grind putting in new turf, but he is never satisfied.”

“What about your old boss?”
“My old boss, Jim, used to praise us, tell us what a great job we were doing. We worked a lot harder for him because we liked him and wanted to work for him. We got a lot done with him.”

There you have it. Praise, criticize and praise. Simple management advice that even a tire store owner can follow.

Duh!

Pantoums

As a writer I am prejudiced - I hate poetry. However, understanding structure and form helps me to construct narratives. I have been exposed to different forms or patterns in prose narratives often - the buddy story, the coming of age story, the monomyth - all archetypes that I respect. Poetry is a different story.

I find that I am forced to grow as a writer by trying to conform to a structure. I like structure. It helps me write. So, Pantoums. It's not much, but it's mine.

Grass reeked today of
promise and growth and birth.
Ice cream trucks traversed the town
with promises of fun and mirth.

Promise and growth and birth
rose today on this patch of brown
with promises of fun and mirth
that made me look up, not down.

Rose today on this patch of brown
ideas of spring and summer
that made me look up, not down.
Winter wakes from its slumber.

Ideas of spring and summer
evoke memories of beaches and redwood.
Winter awakes from its slumber
prodding all of the deadwood.

I hope it tickles you.

Spike

Pundit Profundity

I get a kick out of the pundits and sometimes, I would like to return the favor literally, not figuratively. I hate to admit it but my viewing habits lean heavily towards Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert. My dirty little secrets are the Rehab series, Tool Academy, and yes, I did watch Jersey Shore. However, I am an adult, fully formed and able to make a decision about consuming things that might be bad for me, whether it’s gustatory or visual. Unfortunately, most of America is not capable of making this decision. Which brings me to Glenn Beck, Rush Limbaugh and the rest of the predatory pugilists of prodigious profundity; why do these idiots have a voice?

Of course these mental midgets are heard because they prey on the most base instincts and fears of the majority of the population. Peeps are afraid that immigrants are taking their jobs, taking their girls and ruining the property values in the neighborhood. Listeners buy in because they are given validation for their own fears and hatred. They lack the sophistication to take a step back and ask the question – what does this jerk have to gain by voicing this hatred?

Here is the answer – money. We are becoming an increasingly mercenary society. God is not dead; he has just changed his name to money, at least for these sycophants. An alacrity to articulate polemic propaganda as a means for monetary enrichment might just be the vilest violation of public trust possible. While I am not convinced of the existence of god, I still try to live my life according to the golden rule and, in my opinion; these bastards are violating that rule.

So, be fiscally responsible, be tight with a buck, be Republican, but, don’t forget, we all share this country and this earth. Follow the rule of campers; leave it better than you found it. Are these folks leaving the campground better? I think Stewart and Colbert are trying. I think O’Reilly and Beck are not, and for that reason, I think there is a special place across the river Styx that has a reservation for them.

Spike