So I gave up on this blog for a long time. But I realized today when I comment on other people's blogs and Google asks me if I want to sign in, it links to my Google profile, and to this blog. EEK! People are going to come and read it!
So, if anyone new is reading this, I do not blog regularly anymore. I have mixed feelings about sharing my life with people- sometimes it sounds like a great idea, other times I want to unplug myself and go wander in the desert for a while. I vacillate back and forth. One email from my mother's ex-boyfriend (WTF? Is my personal email even on here?) saying he'd read my blog and wanted to catch up was enough weirdness to say, "I'm outta here!" for over a year.
This blog (for now) is basically a time capsule. I'm not going to write more about my personal life (much) because it changes too fast. I might pop in and say something once in a while, but don't hold your breath. 'kay?
Monday, March 19, 2012
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Whoa... I have a reader?
I haven't decided on a title for this post yet- hopefully something will come to mind by the time I finish it. I have decided to try writing some more after noticing I actually got a REAL COMMENT from someone not in my family, yay! So now I ought to keep going...
The Dog Scene:
Sampson no longer smells horrible! Since switching to Diamond Naturals Lamb and Rice, which is free of corn, wheat, and chicken (has chicken fat, but not meat) he is not stinking up the house and making me wash my hands after touching him. I'm very pleased. But the downside is that it gives him horrible gas- we traded one smell for the other. Me, I'd rather have a farty dog than a greasy, doggy-smelling one, but that's me. Seems like stepdad John is not happy about the gassing of the house, but then he didn't seem to mind the original stink much. We'll be trying some other foods to see whether it was corn, wheat, or chicken that make him smell. Next bag will be Nutra Nuggets Lamb and Rice, it has no corn or chicken, but does have wheat, so I'll know right away if that's the culprit.
Other dog news... We got a Furminator! I thought it was ridiculous how much they cost, so I never even wanted one before. On a whim, I checked ebay for them, and whaddya know, it was only 15.00 WITH shipping. Nice! So I ordered it. The first time I brushed Bruno with it, I got a wad of hair the size of a large cat. He seems to be blowing his coat in December, which is odd to me. But then again, we don't have harsh winters here, so maybe his biological reflex wasn't triggered until late in the fall? Sampson has barely any undercoat to begin with, so not much off of him, but he LOVES to be "furminated", which I find funny. Bruno hates it, and he's the one who actually needs the brushing! Funny how their coats can look superficially similar (black, smooth, shiny, lies close to the body) and actually be SO different.
Not-dog news... I am still working at Old Navy, and today was NOT a good day. It felt like I was constantly being corrected for stupid stuff by the manager, and she always managed to see me either doing something wrong, or staring into space (hey, it happens to us ADD kids) when I think I was actually fairly productive. Life's not fair, I know. It doesn't help that I have no love for the clothing business... if it was up to me, we'd all be running around half-naked in animal skins. But the march of history goes on, sadly.... I have to go to Rabbitstick Rendezvous to get my caveman fix, I guess.
Also, my laptop died. It was weeks ago, before Thanksgiving. (Have I mentioned this already?) I'd had it for FIVE YEARS. That's a dinosaur in computer years. I think it was a major hard drive crash, but I have no money to fix it. I'm sad because all my pictures of Ginger were on that hard drive, and a music collection that took years to collect, and had thousands of songs- it will be very hard to duplicate (especially since I didn't pay for any of it.) So hopefully when I get it looked at, it can be fixed, or at least salvage that stuff.
The Dog Scene:
Sampson no longer smells horrible! Since switching to Diamond Naturals Lamb and Rice, which is free of corn, wheat, and chicken (has chicken fat, but not meat) he is not stinking up the house and making me wash my hands after touching him. I'm very pleased. But the downside is that it gives him horrible gas- we traded one smell for the other. Me, I'd rather have a farty dog than a greasy, doggy-smelling one, but that's me. Seems like stepdad John is not happy about the gassing of the house, but then he didn't seem to mind the original stink much. We'll be trying some other foods to see whether it was corn, wheat, or chicken that make him smell. Next bag will be Nutra Nuggets Lamb and Rice, it has no corn or chicken, but does have wheat, so I'll know right away if that's the culprit.
Other dog news... We got a Furminator! I thought it was ridiculous how much they cost, so I never even wanted one before. On a whim, I checked ebay for them, and whaddya know, it was only 15.00 WITH shipping. Nice! So I ordered it. The first time I brushed Bruno with it, I got a wad of hair the size of a large cat. He seems to be blowing his coat in December, which is odd to me. But then again, we don't have harsh winters here, so maybe his biological reflex wasn't triggered until late in the fall? Sampson has barely any undercoat to begin with, so not much off of him, but he LOVES to be "furminated", which I find funny. Bruno hates it, and he's the one who actually needs the brushing! Funny how their coats can look superficially similar (black, smooth, shiny, lies close to the body) and actually be SO different.
Not-dog news... I am still working at Old Navy, and today was NOT a good day. It felt like I was constantly being corrected for stupid stuff by the manager, and she always managed to see me either doing something wrong, or staring into space (hey, it happens to us ADD kids) when I think I was actually fairly productive. Life's not fair, I know. It doesn't help that I have no love for the clothing business... if it was up to me, we'd all be running around half-naked in animal skins. But the march of history goes on, sadly.... I have to go to Rabbitstick Rendezvous to get my caveman fix, I guess.
Also, my laptop died. It was weeks ago, before Thanksgiving. (Have I mentioned this already?) I'd had it for FIVE YEARS. That's a dinosaur in computer years. I think it was a major hard drive crash, but I have no money to fix it. I'm sad because all my pictures of Ginger were on that hard drive, and a music collection that took years to collect, and had thousands of songs- it will be very hard to duplicate (especially since I didn't pay for any of it.) So hopefully when I get it looked at, it can be fixed, or at least salvage that stuff.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Aaaaagghhh...
It's been too long again. Lots of things happening too.
SO... I DID find a job. Yippee skippee! It's at Old Navy. So far so good, coworkers are nice to the newbie, managers are a mixed group, some are impatient and bossy, others are nice and helpful. I wonder how it is people end up on that track... Our name badges also have "number of years with company" printed on them, some people's (not even managers) have as many as 5 or 7 years. I guess they find it fulfilling. So far I find it okay, but really not what I want for my life's accomplishment. I don't want to be 10 or 20 years down the road, and still trying to sell cheap Chinese-made clothing to the masses. (Though I have to tell you, the company is VERY emphatic they do NOT use sweatshops to make their clothes, thankyouverymuch.) If I want to stay on past the Christmas season, I will have to reapply for a permanent position- hopefully I can get one.
On the dog front... Bruno is doing VERY well with not chasing teh kitties. Haven't had to zap him for anything in over a month. He will still stare daggers at them, but doesn't chase them, even if they run and make a big fuss about it. John (my stepdad) jokes a lot about getting a third dog, and I think "be careful what you wish for... it might come true." I wonder how we would cope with a third. I would LOVE to raise a puppy "from scratch" but no way is it a good time now. Lack of money is the prime problem. I also wonder if I am actually suited to own more than one personal dog, I like having all my attention focused on Bruno. Maybe we'll see in a few years when he starts to get old and grumpy.
In other news... Thanksgiving went amazingly well here at la casa de los gatos. Time was appropriately managed, there were no food disasters, stony silences, or other common holiday pitfalls. the house looked nice, good thing no one went upstairs and saw the tornado zone that is the bedrooms and office. Dogs behaved themselves (mostly) didn't steal the turkey or barf up anything on the nice rugs. No allergic guests, thank goodness. Dogs each got a plate of turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, and cranberry sauce in lieu of kibble for dinner. No greasy squirts in the night, yay! They both seem to have very robust digestive systems, thank goodness. "Dear God, I am thankful my dogs didn't have diarrhea from all the junk food they got today. Amen," I wanted to say. Is that sacrilege?
Gratitude. It's what's for dinner.
SO... I DID find a job. Yippee skippee! It's at Old Navy. So far so good, coworkers are nice to the newbie, managers are a mixed group, some are impatient and bossy, others are nice and helpful. I wonder how it is people end up on that track... Our name badges also have "number of years with company" printed on them, some people's (not even managers) have as many as 5 or 7 years. I guess they find it fulfilling. So far I find it okay, but really not what I want for my life's accomplishment. I don't want to be 10 or 20 years down the road, and still trying to sell cheap Chinese-made clothing to the masses. (Though I have to tell you, the company is VERY emphatic they do NOT use sweatshops to make their clothes, thankyouverymuch.) If I want to stay on past the Christmas season, I will have to reapply for a permanent position- hopefully I can get one.
On the dog front... Bruno is doing VERY well with not chasing teh kitties. Haven't had to zap him for anything in over a month. He will still stare daggers at them, but doesn't chase them, even if they run and make a big fuss about it. John (my stepdad) jokes a lot about getting a third dog, and I think "be careful what you wish for... it might come true." I wonder how we would cope with a third. I would LOVE to raise a puppy "from scratch" but no way is it a good time now. Lack of money is the prime problem. I also wonder if I am actually suited to own more than one personal dog, I like having all my attention focused on Bruno. Maybe we'll see in a few years when he starts to get old and grumpy.
In other news... Thanksgiving went amazingly well here at la casa de los gatos. Time was appropriately managed, there were no food disasters, stony silences, or other common holiday pitfalls. the house looked nice, good thing no one went upstairs and saw the tornado zone that is the bedrooms and office. Dogs behaved themselves (mostly) didn't steal the turkey or barf up anything on the nice rugs. No allergic guests, thank goodness. Dogs each got a plate of turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, and cranberry sauce in lieu of kibble for dinner. No greasy squirts in the night, yay! They both seem to have very robust digestive systems, thank goodness. "Dear God, I am thankful my dogs didn't have diarrhea from all the junk food they got today. Amen," I wanted to say. Is that sacrilege?
Gratitude. It's what's for dinner.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
3.3%
That's the percentage of people who apply for holiday temp jobs will actually get them, according to the CS Monitor. There are 30 times more job seekers than jobs! I've been thinking this whole job search thing I'm doing is an exercise in futility (I know you're thinking, welcome to the real world, kid!) and I'd be better off working on my art to try to sell something before Christmas.
I think I might go to plan B, which is: forget this job business. Beg family for money so I can go back to school and finish my degree. No monkeying around this time.
I could also try to get back into modeling, but since I've developed a distaste for it, that might be hard. I am still getting hits every day on my modelmayhem profile, I think I could probably make some money pretty quick if I could get over being objectified by horny old men...
Somewhere along the line, I missed my train, it feels like. Everyone else my age is actually doing something, something way more cool than me (at least it feels that way...)
I think I might go to plan B, which is: forget this job business. Beg family for money so I can go back to school and finish my degree. No monkeying around this time.
I could also try to get back into modeling, but since I've developed a distaste for it, that might be hard. I am still getting hits every day on my modelmayhem profile, I think I could probably make some money pretty quick if I could get over being objectified by horny old men...
Somewhere along the line, I missed my train, it feels like. Everyone else my age is actually doing something, something way more cool than me (at least it feels that way...)
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Perfection
I think we as humans tend to follow the rule that familiarity breeds, not contempt, but fondness. The things we like the best are those we know the best, and unconsciously our patterns of love (and hate) follow not what is rational, but what is familiar.
I could get all depressing on this and talk about why racism and sexism and suchlike are a natural extension of this tendency, but it's not what I want to do today. What I want to write about is that it just hit me today- Bruno is a beautiful dog. He's canine perfection, and I couldn't get a handsomer companion. (Let me explain before you dismiss me as a fanatic.)
All this whole time I've had him I've been comparing him to Ginger, and usually unfavorably- Ginger had brown eyes so dark they looked black, so Bruno's are not as soulful and intelligent-looking because they are orange-brown instead. Ginger was slim and streamlined, Bruno is therefore not as graceful because he is stocky and muscular. Ginger's tail hung low most of the time, therefore Bruno is not as pretty with his curly tail. And so on. Every time I thought about his physical appearance, I compared him to Ginger, and since Ginger was the first dog I ever owned and really connected with, my brain pattern of what beauty is in dogs was based on her. I didn't admit this to anyone publicly- I didn't want to look like a jerk or a snob.
It's taken a nearly a year to retrain my brain to find Bruno attractive. Whenever people told me, "What a handsome dog you have!" I'd smile and thank them, figuring they were just being nice. I thought of him as a nice enough dog, but not a pretty one. I saw him as a hodgepodge of parts from different breeds because of his mongrel ancestry, and not as an integrated whole. I'd think, "Hmm, I like his ears, but they should be set a little higher on his head," or "I like the shape of his muzzle, but his lips are too loose and flappy."
Last week I took him for a run on the bike path along the lower Clackamas River in Oregon City, and we passed a full-blooded German Shepherd. The thought popped into my head- "My dog is way better put-together and handsome than that one!" And today I felt nothing but pride seeing him lying out in the yard. This is a really new feeling for me. Sometimes in the past I had to force myself to see the good in him, with all the trouble he's caused, sticking with him because I owe it to him, but today love comes easily.
A miracle.
I could get all depressing on this and talk about why racism and sexism and suchlike are a natural extension of this tendency, but it's not what I want to do today. What I want to write about is that it just hit me today- Bruno is a beautiful dog. He's canine perfection, and I couldn't get a handsomer companion. (Let me explain before you dismiss me as a fanatic.)
All this whole time I've had him I've been comparing him to Ginger, and usually unfavorably- Ginger had brown eyes so dark they looked black, so Bruno's are not as soulful and intelligent-looking because they are orange-brown instead. Ginger was slim and streamlined, Bruno is therefore not as graceful because he is stocky and muscular. Ginger's tail hung low most of the time, therefore Bruno is not as pretty with his curly tail. And so on. Every time I thought about his physical appearance, I compared him to Ginger, and since Ginger was the first dog I ever owned and really connected with, my brain pattern of what beauty is in dogs was based on her. I didn't admit this to anyone publicly- I didn't want to look like a jerk or a snob.
It's taken a nearly a year to retrain my brain to find Bruno attractive. Whenever people told me, "What a handsome dog you have!" I'd smile and thank them, figuring they were just being nice. I thought of him as a nice enough dog, but not a pretty one. I saw him as a hodgepodge of parts from different breeds because of his mongrel ancestry, and not as an integrated whole. I'd think, "Hmm, I like his ears, but they should be set a little higher on his head," or "I like the shape of his muzzle, but his lips are too loose and flappy."
Last week I took him for a run on the bike path along the lower Clackamas River in Oregon City, and we passed a full-blooded German Shepherd. The thought popped into my head- "My dog is way better put-together and handsome than that one!" And today I felt nothing but pride seeing him lying out in the yard. This is a really new feeling for me. Sometimes in the past I had to force myself to see the good in him, with all the trouble he's caused, sticking with him because I owe it to him, but today love comes easily.
A miracle.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
okay, I'm a deadbeat
I did say that I would try to keep up with this, but my old demons have caught up with me:
1. Who's reading this anyhow? Why should anyone care? (And yes, I know you're there, Mom, but you don't need to read a blog to know how I'm doing and what I'm up to.) I don't do anything that interesting, and writing about my dog is not going to gain me readers (everyone knows that no one loves your dog as much as you do- it's pretty much a given.)
2. On the off chance that I DO become successful and gain regular readers, I'm going to have to deal with malicious comments and personal attacks. I see this all the time on my favorite blogs I read- vicious, ignorant commenters. I wonder how writers can stand it without falling apart, and some even remove their comment section entirely. I don't know if I'm strong enough.
3. Sheer laziness. I'm lazy, I'm the first person to admit it. I didn't feel like driving five miles to a wireless hotspot to get on the internet. It seems wasteful, and I hate driving for frivolous things (liberal guilt about polluting the environment with my inefficient old putt-putt of a car. I want to put a sign on the back that says "I'M SORRY I CAN'T GO ANY FASTER" to apologize to anyone who gets stuck behind me.)
But now that I'm here, I might as well give an update.
I am COMPLETELY out of money. I have 150 dollars in my bank account, and ZERO cash stashed anywhere else. Still figuring out what to do about this. Fortunately I have a very loving (and enabling) family that lets me live with them rent-free, so I don't have to worry about being kicked out on the street or starving, but it demands a re-think of my choices in the past, and what to do next.
Sad news on the pet-owning front: Maggie (my family's Aussie) killed our elderly barn cat, Clementine. It's a miracle Clementine made it to old age (16 years) in the first place, being an outside-only cat in a place with many predators, but she was tough. It was really hard to see her go in such a hideous way. Maggie flushed her out of the barn where Clementine slept during the day (she was entirely nocturnal, and therefore had no dealings with Maggie before) and grabbed the cat by the neck and shook her violently, over and over. But this didn't give Clementine a quick death (that would have been better.) I think poor Clementine actually suffocated from being carried by the neck for that long. Maggie ran all around the yard and refused to break her hold on the cat, while we humans screamed and ran after. It was just horrible. Finally Clementine stopped struggling and Maggie tried to cache her kill for later (like wild predators do) by burying it with leaves and mud. I swooped in and gathered up the bloody, muddy cat, but it was too late.
I buried her in the yard, and dragged a log and some rocks over the site so dogs or other animals can't dig her up. Clementine looked she was just curled up to rest and it was so hard to leave her in that hole and shovel dirt over her open eyes.
One spot of hope in that circus of horror was Bruno's behavior during the incident. While he was definitely an accomplice in flushing the cat out of her hiding place, when I went ballistic yelling and screaming and kicking Maggie, he got the heck out of there- ran right to the house and demanded to be let in. I didn't know this until it was all over, and I said, "I need to look for Bruno, I lost him in the confusion." I feel bad for scaring him like that, but it shows that his prey drive can be overruled. His desire to kill the cat was less than his fear of a loud, scary situation, so I have hope that if a similar thing happens again (God forbid) I could stop him from killing. Hopefully I will not have to find out.
And if anyone is curious, Maggie is a purebred Australian Shepherd, and no, Aussies are NOT supposed to be a "cat killer" breed. (That dubious honor goes to German Shepherds and Siberian Huskies.) I don't know if she is a genetic anomaly, or if this behavior developed because she was not introduced to cats as a puppy, and she has been rewarded for killing other animals in the past (rats and an opossum.)
1. Who's reading this anyhow? Why should anyone care? (And yes, I know you're there, Mom, but you don't need to read a blog to know how I'm doing and what I'm up to.) I don't do anything that interesting, and writing about my dog is not going to gain me readers (everyone knows that no one loves your dog as much as you do- it's pretty much a given.)
2. On the off chance that I DO become successful and gain regular readers, I'm going to have to deal with malicious comments and personal attacks. I see this all the time on my favorite blogs I read- vicious, ignorant commenters. I wonder how writers can stand it without falling apart, and some even remove their comment section entirely. I don't know if I'm strong enough.
3. Sheer laziness. I'm lazy, I'm the first person to admit it. I didn't feel like driving five miles to a wireless hotspot to get on the internet. It seems wasteful, and I hate driving for frivolous things (liberal guilt about polluting the environment with my inefficient old putt-putt of a car. I want to put a sign on the back that says "I'M SORRY I CAN'T GO ANY FASTER" to apologize to anyone who gets stuck behind me.)
But now that I'm here, I might as well give an update.
I am COMPLETELY out of money. I have 150 dollars in my bank account, and ZERO cash stashed anywhere else. Still figuring out what to do about this. Fortunately I have a very loving (and enabling) family that lets me live with them rent-free, so I don't have to worry about being kicked out on the street or starving, but it demands a re-think of my choices in the past, and what to do next.
Sad news on the pet-owning front: Maggie (my family's Aussie) killed our elderly barn cat, Clementine. It's a miracle Clementine made it to old age (16 years) in the first place, being an outside-only cat in a place with many predators, but she was tough. It was really hard to see her go in such a hideous way. Maggie flushed her out of the barn where Clementine slept during the day (she was entirely nocturnal, and therefore had no dealings with Maggie before) and grabbed the cat by the neck and shook her violently, over and over. But this didn't give Clementine a quick death (that would have been better.) I think poor Clementine actually suffocated from being carried by the neck for that long. Maggie ran all around the yard and refused to break her hold on the cat, while we humans screamed and ran after. It was just horrible. Finally Clementine stopped struggling and Maggie tried to cache her kill for later (like wild predators do) by burying it with leaves and mud. I swooped in and gathered up the bloody, muddy cat, but it was too late.
I buried her in the yard, and dragged a log and some rocks over the site so dogs or other animals can't dig her up. Clementine looked she was just curled up to rest and it was so hard to leave her in that hole and shovel dirt over her open eyes.
One spot of hope in that circus of horror was Bruno's behavior during the incident. While he was definitely an accomplice in flushing the cat out of her hiding place, when I went ballistic yelling and screaming and kicking Maggie, he got the heck out of there- ran right to the house and demanded to be let in. I didn't know this until it was all over, and I said, "I need to look for Bruno, I lost him in the confusion." I feel bad for scaring him like that, but it shows that his prey drive can be overruled. His desire to kill the cat was less than his fear of a loud, scary situation, so I have hope that if a similar thing happens again (God forbid) I could stop him from killing. Hopefully I will not have to find out.
And if anyone is curious, Maggie is a purebred Australian Shepherd, and no, Aussies are NOT supposed to be a "cat killer" breed. (That dubious honor goes to German Shepherds and Siberian Huskies.) I don't know if she is a genetic anomaly, or if this behavior developed because she was not introduced to cats as a puppy, and she has been rewarded for killing other animals in the past (rats and an opossum.)
Monday, September 13, 2010
Three Things
I just re-read the post about when to euthanize a dog on Ruffly Speaking, and though I've heard it before, she's a good writer, and puts it together well.
The most important thing, is to decide BEFORE your dog is old or sick, what gives him joy in life? You need to pick 3 things that give him the most pleasure, and if he gets to the point where he can do only one or none of those things anymore, it's time to let him go. If you decide before he gets sick, it's easier to have perspective later.
Since Bruno is in good health, I could pick his three things today:
1. Hunting (especially rodents in long grass)
2. Eating (especially cheese and liver and cookies)
3. Playing (especially ripping up kleenexes and tugging a rope)
If I could add a fourth and fifth, it would be going for walks, and greeting visitors. He gets very excited to do those things too.
Anyway, if at some point he gets to where he can still eat, but it hurts too much to walk, hunt, or play, I'll know it's time. Or if he will still go on walks, but has no enthusiasm for hunting or eating, I'll know it's time.
What are your dog's 3 things?
The most important thing, is to decide BEFORE your dog is old or sick, what gives him joy in life? You need to pick 3 things that give him the most pleasure, and if he gets to the point where he can do only one or none of those things anymore, it's time to let him go. If you decide before he gets sick, it's easier to have perspective later.
Since Bruno is in good health, I could pick his three things today:
1. Hunting (especially rodents in long grass)
2. Eating (especially cheese and liver and cookies)
3. Playing (especially ripping up kleenexes and tugging a rope)
If I could add a fourth and fifth, it would be going for walks, and greeting visitors. He gets very excited to do those things too.
Anyway, if at some point he gets to where he can still eat, but it hurts too much to walk, hunt, or play, I'll know it's time. Or if he will still go on walks, but has no enthusiasm for hunting or eating, I'll know it's time.
What are your dog's 3 things?
Sad-ish news
My mother just called to tell me that her mother passed away today, about 2 hours ago. (This is NOT the same "grandma" I mentioned in my previous post, that's my dad's mother.)
Am I a jerk for not feeling sad? Or has it just not hit me yet? I remember her as a crabby old lady, but she loved her cat, and gave me a bunch of kitchen stuff once for helping her move into a new apartment. All her grandkids called her "Gersher" which was short for Grandma Shirley. One time she was babysitting me and my younger sister when we were small, and I brought a "pet slug" into the house, in a jar. She got angry and flushed it down the toilet. My sis actually remembers this better than I do, but it makes me laugh a little today...
When my mom told me that Gersh died, Mom sounded sad, but more relieved. (I hope I'm not reading that wrong...) She had been in a care facility for a long time, was depressed, very disabled from a stroke, and in the past few days, had become unable to eat or drink. Her quality of life was basically zero. The last time I saw her was Mother's Day, when she was confined to a wheelchair, but could still talk a little, and swallow liquids. She had gone downhill from there.
Since her family are Christian Scientists (sorry, that wikipedia page is not well written, but is a decent overview if you're not familiar with that sect) they didn't do any heroic measures to prolong her life, they just tried to keep her comfortable. For a person who never went to a doctor her whole life, never used any medicine, she did okay- she lived a long time and was quite healthy until a few years ago. This morning, both my mother and my aunt visited her before she died. It was after they left, but it sounds like she went peacefully.
Rest in peace, Gersher. I hope there are cats in heaven...
Am I a jerk for not feeling sad? Or has it just not hit me yet? I remember her as a crabby old lady, but she loved her cat, and gave me a bunch of kitchen stuff once for helping her move into a new apartment. All her grandkids called her "Gersher" which was short for Grandma Shirley. One time she was babysitting me and my younger sister when we were small, and I brought a "pet slug" into the house, in a jar. She got angry and flushed it down the toilet. My sis actually remembers this better than I do, but it makes me laugh a little today...
When my mom told me that Gersh died, Mom sounded sad, but more relieved. (I hope I'm not reading that wrong...) She had been in a care facility for a long time, was depressed, very disabled from a stroke, and in the past few days, had become unable to eat or drink. Her quality of life was basically zero. The last time I saw her was Mother's Day, when she was confined to a wheelchair, but could still talk a little, and swallow liquids. She had gone downhill from there.
Since her family are Christian Scientists (sorry, that wikipedia page is not well written, but is a decent overview if you're not familiar with that sect) they didn't do any heroic measures to prolong her life, they just tried to keep her comfortable. For a person who never went to a doctor her whole life, never used any medicine, she did okay- she lived a long time and was quite healthy until a few years ago. This morning, both my mother and my aunt visited her before she died. It was after they left, but it sounds like she went peacefully.
Rest in peace, Gersher. I hope there are cats in heaven...
So why?
A couple days ago, I watched the first episode of the new season of "Dogs 101" on Animal Planet with my grandmother. One of the featured breeds was the American Pit Bull Terrier, and though they mentioned that yes, it is a strong dog, very tenacious, very energetic, and when trained to fight it can be dangerous (like ANY dog) all the pits they showed were loving, sweet, well-trained dogs. (Of course.)
So my grandma said, "So why do they have such a bad reputation?"
I replied, "Media hysteria."
I just read a post on No Kill Nation that got me thinking a little deeper. Of course, media hysteria is number one reason pit bulls have a bad rap. Whenever a dog attacks someone, if it is even a POSSIBLE pit mix, it will be labeled a pit bull. And any dog with short, smooth hair and a blocky head will be labeled a pit, even if breed-experienced people can see that it is a mix, or a completely unrelated breed. More people get killed by lightning than dog attacks, but even the small number of serious dog attacks has thrown the nation into a panic.
No Kill Nation's point of view (and I think they are correct) is that intact, unneutered dogs, and chained, neglected dogs are responsible for almost every fatal attack. The mix of hormones and frustration, plus the complete lack of social contact, lead to crazed killers. (Rarely! Think of how many neglected pitbulls there are, and how FEW go bad.) Pits are the number 1 most neglected dog in America, I feel. And legislation is NOT HELPING. Stricter dog control laws lead to MORE dogs being neglected, because if you can't take your pit bull out in public without a muzzle, and he must be kept in a maximum-security enclosure when he's at home, who's going to bother with socialization?
Pits are not my cup of tea when it comes to dogs, honestly, but that's mostly aesthetic. All the ones I've met were sweet-as-pie goofballs, not killers. It really hurts when I hear people say bad stuff about them. For example, my ex-boyfriend has a dog that's 1/2 pit, 1/2 blue heeler. She's extremely obedient and loyal, good with dogs, cats, chickens, kids, you name it. But when he first got her, I told my aunt that he had bought a 1/2 pit puppy and she said, "Why'd he get a dog like THAT? A pit bull?" with a frown. My dad has a dog that is (to me at least) obviously a pit mix, but his wife insists that it is a Mastiff or Ridgeback or Boxer mix instead of the dreaded "p-word," because such a friendly dog could never be part pit, no sirree! (insert sarcasm.)
And then you have people like Terrierman saying that only gangbangers and wannabes have pitbulls, which is so not true. (Way to go! Perpetuating stereotypes again! While he occasionally says something insightful, Terrierman has his head up his butt on the issue of pits.) Lots of normal people have well-behaved "pibbles", which of course doesn't make the news because it's not exciting.
I don't quite know where I'm going with this, but it frustrates me that so many people, even dog lovers, have fallen for the media hype about these dogs. They're just dogs, people! A dog is what you make of it, and if you neglect it and abuse it, sometimes they snap. That's just elementary psychology.
So my grandma said, "So why do they have such a bad reputation?"
I replied, "Media hysteria."
I just read a post on No Kill Nation that got me thinking a little deeper. Of course, media hysteria is number one reason pit bulls have a bad rap. Whenever a dog attacks someone, if it is even a POSSIBLE pit mix, it will be labeled a pit bull. And any dog with short, smooth hair and a blocky head will be labeled a pit, even if breed-experienced people can see that it is a mix, or a completely unrelated breed. More people get killed by lightning than dog attacks, but even the small number of serious dog attacks has thrown the nation into a panic.
No Kill Nation's point of view (and I think they are correct) is that intact, unneutered dogs, and chained, neglected dogs are responsible for almost every fatal attack. The mix of hormones and frustration, plus the complete lack of social contact, lead to crazed killers. (Rarely! Think of how many neglected pitbulls there are, and how FEW go bad.) Pits are the number 1 most neglected dog in America, I feel. And legislation is NOT HELPING. Stricter dog control laws lead to MORE dogs being neglected, because if you can't take your pit bull out in public without a muzzle, and he must be kept in a maximum-security enclosure when he's at home, who's going to bother with socialization?
Pits are not my cup of tea when it comes to dogs, honestly, but that's mostly aesthetic. All the ones I've met were sweet-as-pie goofballs, not killers. It really hurts when I hear people say bad stuff about them. For example, my ex-boyfriend has a dog that's 1/2 pit, 1/2 blue heeler. She's extremely obedient and loyal, good with dogs, cats, chickens, kids, you name it. But when he first got her, I told my aunt that he had bought a 1/2 pit puppy and she said, "Why'd he get a dog like THAT? A pit bull?" with a frown. My dad has a dog that is (to me at least) obviously a pit mix, but his wife insists that it is a Mastiff or Ridgeback or Boxer mix instead of the dreaded "p-word," because such a friendly dog could never be part pit, no sirree! (insert sarcasm.)
And then you have people like Terrierman saying that only gangbangers and wannabes have pitbulls, which is so not true. (Way to go! Perpetuating stereotypes again! While he occasionally says something insightful, Terrierman has his head up his butt on the issue of pits.) Lots of normal people have well-behaved "pibbles", which of course doesn't make the news because it's not exciting.
I don't quite know where I'm going with this, but it frustrates me that so many people, even dog lovers, have fallen for the media hype about these dogs. They're just dogs, people! A dog is what you make of it, and if you neglect it and abuse it, sometimes they snap. That's just elementary psychology.
I want this kitty...
I really, really do.
My mother fostered his litter, and he is the last one left- I can't believe no one wants this little cutie! He's obviously a Siamese mix of some kind, but without the grating "mrow" noises. He's pretty quiet, and very purrrrrr-y and playful, which is a big change from how he was several weeks ago- terrified of all humans, covered in fleas, belly distended from all his worms. He's a real handsome little guy now! He is batting at my fingers while I type, it's so adorable it's ridiculous.
If I could get a cat, I would so take him, but I don't think he would be safe with Bruno. (Who is, as I type this, staring daggers at the purring kitten on my lap, and no doubt thinks of him as prey. We joked about "snack size cats" but it's really no joke. Kitten is NOT allowed on the floor while Bruno is in the room.) Bruno has improved HUGELY in his behavior around cats, but I would never trust him unsupervised.
So Mom, if you are reading this (and I know you do!) I say to heck with finding this one a home. Can you find room for one more in your flock of cats?
If I could get a cat, I would so take him, but I don't think he would be safe with Bruno. (Who is, as I type this, staring daggers at the purring kitten on my lap, and no doubt thinks of him as prey. We joked about "snack size cats" but it's really no joke. Kitten is NOT allowed on the floor while Bruno is in the room.) Bruno has improved HUGELY in his behavior around cats, but I would never trust him unsupervised.
So Mom, if you are reading this (and I know you do!) I say to heck with finding this one a home. Can you find room for one more in your flock of cats?
Thursday, September 9, 2010
To explain...
The reason I have zero posts for a week and then a whole bunch at once is because I don't have internet at home, and don't like to waste gas to drive to a wifi hotspot. We live in a rural area, and it's about 5 miles to closest spot, and about 15 to my favorite one, the public library.
I write blog entries on my computer when I think of something, and then upload them all at once when I can.
I guess in training language, I'm "intermittently reinforcing" my readers- usually there is nothing new, but once in a while- JACKPOT! (This method actually leads to the strongest response on the trainee- it's why slot machines are so popular...)
I write blog entries on my computer when I think of something, and then upload them all at once when I can.
I guess in training language, I'm "intermittently reinforcing" my readers- usually there is nothing new, but once in a while- JACKPOT! (This method actually leads to the strongest response on the trainee- it's why slot machines are so popular...)
Pottery News!
So, while it was cold and wet, I used the opportunity to fire some pots I made earlier this summer. I like to use primitive wood-firing for my pots, because it’s quick, simple (though much more complex than just popping them in a kiln and pressing ‘start”) and it makes them look FABULOUS.
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| A shiny black tea bowl- ignore the George Forman grill in the background... |
The variable atmosphere in the firing (oxidation versus reduction) and the trace minerals from the ash, and carbon from the smoke, all combine to create beautiful, unpredictable, “fire cloud” markings on the pots. Oxygen brings out the red of the iron oxide in the red clay, lack of oxygen (reduction, in potter’s language) dulls the color and makes the blackest blacks and whitest whites. I LOVE the uncertainty of it- I can try to set it up to get good results, but you never know exactly how they’ll turn out, or even if they’ll survive- pots crack or even explode at much higher rates in primitive firing than kiln firing.
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| A bowl I made being removed from an outdoor pit firing- we used horse turds for fuel! |
My firing chamber is my household woodstove- that’s why I had to wait for cool weather to fire. For clay to become ceramic, it must reach at least 500 degrees F (but hotter is better, I aim for 1000F) A regular woodstove is quite capable of getting pots that hot. My other option is outdoor pit firing, but it is still fire season here in the West, so all outdoor fires (other than barbecue grills) are illegal.
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| Pots in stove with fire merrily blazing... |
A firing from start to finish takes 45 minutes-several hours. The pots must be preheated on top of the stove before they are moved into the firebox, and then gradually heated by building the fire slowly. I know they are done when they are starting to glow- then I pile on a whole bunch of wood, get it blazing just to make sure. Then I let it die down. For better fire clouds, I throw some crumbled-up punky wood (old, rotten stuff) onto the pots when they are still very hot, but the fire has mostly burned out. It smokes like crazy! If I do it too soon, it burns up completely, and the pots don’t take any color. Too late, it doesn’t burn at all, and the pots don’t get any color that way either. It’s a judgment call. When done right, the carbon black color is absolutely bonded to the clay, sucked into its pores. That’s what I aim for.
Once they pots are cool enough to touch (well, sometimes I burn my hands because I’m impatient) I pull them out and rinse off the ashes in water. Voila, beautiful handmade, primitive-fired pottery!
Tail Talk
It’s pretty obvious that a dog’s tail is a crucial element of his communication. Even humans can read a lot of what dogs say with their tails, but we tend to miss the subtle things, and misinterpret some of the obvious ones. A wagging tail does NOT always mean they are happy.
As previously mentioned somewhere on here, I grew up with cats- different tail language altogether! A cat’s tail wagging is a baaaaad sign- you are about to get swatted, make no mistake.
One thing I learned pretty quickly, when I first got a dog, is that a tail raised in the air, still or stiffly wagging, is not the same as the stiff upright cat tail (which is friendly, and how kittens greet their mother). Stiff upright tails signal trouble brewing. It is a sign of a dominant or wanna-be dominant dog- at best, it is one dog telling another, “I’m the boss,” and if the other dog agrees, it doesn’t go any further. But sometimes it is a sign of a fearful dog who thinks that he must prevent the other dog attacking him by looking as big and scary as possible. This kind of dog is paranoid that the other dog will attack him, and can misinterpret friendly or neutral advances as aggression, and will aggress back in return.
That’s the kind of dog Bruno is. At first I thought he was naturally dominant, the way people talk about Akitas (which he resembles) and was just intolerant of other dogs getting in his personal space. This is how it usually goes when he meets a new dog- his tail is curled over his back, his hackles come up, and his posture is very stiff. He will cautiously try to sniff the other dog, and it tries to sniff him. At some point in the transaction, usually while the other dog is trying to sniff his butt, he whips around and goes ballistic- barking, snarling, rapidly biting the other dog over and over. I can easily break it up, the other dog never appears to have actual wounds, but it’s scary and embarrassing.
It got me thinking- does Bruno’s curled Spitz tail make communication harder for him? A lot of the curled-tail breeds have reputations for being unfriendly to other dogs (Akita, Chow, Malamute, etc), so I wondered, maybe they can’t help it- other dogs might see them as trying to dominate simply because of their tail position. Perhaps in Bruno’s early life, other dogs “put him in his place” for his tail being up, so he learned to pre-empt that and get them first.
Or does having a curled tail actually make a dog feel more dominant? What is the connection between mind and body here? In the same way that forcing yourself to smile can make you feel better if you keep doing it…
I guess it goes without saying that I think tail docking is unethical not just because it causes pain, but because tails are so vitally important in dog communication.
I need a new camera
Well, “need” is a bit strong. I would LIKE a new camera, because my current one is frustrating me to no end. It’s a cheap Kodak point-n-shoot, and it takes 2 seconds after you push the button to capture the image, and FIVE seconds (one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, etc.) to be able to take another picture after that. A lot can happen in 2 seconds or 5 seconds, I’m missing cool shots because I’m waiting for my stupid camera to catch up. (If I put it in ‘fast action mode” instead of full auto, it’s slightly better, but tends to make dull, dim images.)
For example, I was trying to capture the elegant (but also hilarious) way that Bruno chooses to exercise himself in our pasture. He leaps about, pouncing on the grass, in a way that looks exactly like the “airs above the ground” exercise that high-school dressage horses do. Like this:
And here's Bruno's version... I didn't get a good up in the air shot, because he moves too fast. These are take-offs and landings.
I don’t want to go all out and get a DSLR (even if I could afford it) I just want a better pocket-size camera that won’t cost me hundreds to replace if I drop it in a river (which actually happened to my first digital camera- whoops.)
Life Planning
So I have developed a new strategy (well, not new, really… what I have is new motivation.)
I just read the FABULOUS book Excel-erated Learning. It’s a good overview of the current state in academic learning theory, (the study of how all organisms learn) specifically geared toward professional dog trainers with the goal to bring training practices into line with science. (To make training easier and less stressful for man and beast.) I am not a pro trainer, but I loved it. I am such a wonk at heart, it reminded me of how much I love psychology and the brilliance of a well-designed, well implemented experiment.(There are a lot of them referenced in the book.) It made me want to be part of it all, back in the fray of academic life.
My theory is that a lot of people who really love psychology (and are good at it) are those who are not naturally good with people- since we had to teach ourselves to understand other humans, it lays the framework for cataloguing and analyzing human behavior. (And animal behavior.) I could be wrong, but that’s my experience. I was definitely a real dork growing up. (Still am, maybe…)
So my new plan is to work this fall, save up enough money to enroll in community college for the spring term, get as many credits as I can, and then transfer to one of the Oregon state universities and major in psychology, with a focus on learning theory. This will take several years, but I think I could tolerate going back to school if I had a clear plan of what I’m working towards.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Rain Blahs Cured!
A friend and I (plus Bruno of course) went to the beach expecting cool, wet, windy weather, and got:
THIS!
And THIS!
And THIS!
It turned out warm, lightly breezy, and just perfect. Also, THANK YOU OREGON for making all the beaches free to the public. What a great state!
Really? That's yucky
My mom’s husband, John, told me that he once ate a whole “dog pepperoni” (a Pupperoni? A Snausage? Hopefully not a ‘bully stick”!) because he thought it was jerky. Where are your taste buds?!
I nibbled a bite of the “pizza bites” treats that drive Bruno crazy, and boy do they NOT taste like pizza. Bleccch!
I guess this just fits with the finding that women tend to have more taste buds and better sense of smell than men. (Especially the women in my family- we all have very keen senses.) Possible connection- in primitive societies women are usually the keepers of knowledge about edible and medicinal plants, and smell and taste are of paramount importance in identifying these. (For a cool aside about supertasters, people who have a much keener sense of taste than normal, click here. I am probably a supertaster- I find alcohol intolerably bitter, and have had to train myself to eat grapefruits, swiss cheese, tofu, carbonated drinks, and other stuff normal people don't find bitter. It could be worse, though...my aunt can't even stand rosemary or oregano!)
Dogs have a LOT fewer taste buds than humans- probably because they evolved to eat a less-varied diet than we do, and didn't need to distinguish so many flavors. (Cats have even fewer- their natural diet doesn't include ANY plant matter or carrion). Also, the fact is; that while dogs appreciate our food, what THEY like best is stuff we find yucky. Dogs are not little humans in fur suits!
Idiocracy
This movie was on TV today, and I watched it. I’m not sure whether it is more slapstick or more satire. A good combo in my book, at least. The plot goes: an ordinary man and woman are frozen in a secret military cryogenic experiment, and then the project is forgotten and abandoned. They are accidentally woken up 500 years in the future, to find that the world’s collective IQ has declined massively, no one knows how to read, and the top movie in the theaters is called “Ass” and simply features 90 minutes of an anonymous naked butt.
The man spends the whole movie trying to find out how to go back in time and stop this horrible mess from happening, and being called upon to fix things for the future’s idiotic denizens. It’s a perfectly delicious (if very vulgar- definitely not kid-appropriate) satire, with plenty of nods to Planet of the Apes and other classic sci-fi.
Now, the plausibility of this is quite low… Since IQ scores have actually gone UP every year since they started testing people with the Stanford Binet (the most common type of IQ test) and they have to adjust the scoring to make sure that the average score is still “100”. (Evidence to me that IQ is NOT genetic) But perhaps IQ scores are going to be like longevity, now that the “experts” think that my generation is going to be the first one in modern history that might live shorter lives than their parents…
It's a losing battle...
…to convince my mother and other baby boomers that current pop music is not all garbage. Ya know, that stuff they play in the mall, and the top 40 radio stations- yeah, that’s mostly crap. BUT there are lots of artists that have actual fans, if not radio airtime, that are making excellent music.
Musicianship is NOT dead! But I can’t win, it seems… Radiohead is too noisy and chaotic. Helio Sequence is too repetitive. And don’t even mention any punk or hiphop stuff- that’s a whole other ballpark. And I get nowhere if I talk about how hard is to put together anything wholly electronic, to sync up different tracks and put together good rhythm (I would know, I took a digital music class a few years ago, it was frikkin HARD) that’s catchy and works well as a whole. But no, anything that isn’t classically-trained musicians on actual instruments is crap.
I must agree to disagree, I guess.
Bittersweet
It feels like fall today, actually it has since I got rained out on Mt. Hood. The sky is grey, temps are mild, and the first dry, brown leaves are starting to fall. I’m always a little melancholy at the end of summer- long months of cold, wet, miserable weather are ahead. But so are beautiful pumpkins and apples, crisp morning air, the grass will become green again with the rains. Chili for dinner on rainy evenings, silvery frost on the ground, geese calling as they fly south for the winter.
My mother says that autumn is her favorite time of year, and I can see why. But still I’m a little sad. If I was making the calendar, the year would end after the fall harvest, when the earth goes to sleep for the year and nothing happens outside from November through February but rain, rain, rain.
If I can scrape up enough money to go south for the winter, you bet your britches I’ll be in Arizona for January! Horrible cold, wet, post-holiday letdown month…
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