You Could Complain, But That Would Be Piddly!

Yesterday I blogged about the detail of the displays at LEGOLAND. Today I continue this string. As many of you know, I played volunteer firefighter for a number of years, and although that chapter of my life is closed, I still am drawn to things firefighter. I am also drawn to juvenile and crude humor. This explains why I loved this particular lego construction of the quintessential dalmatian and hero firefighter.

Then I got another view and loved it even more.

Life Is A Cartoon

This morning as we were tooling along Mountainaire Road on our way to town, Mr. Wile E.Coyote traipsed across the road about 25 yards in front of our car. I have frequently heard the mangy doggies yipping in the evenings when I am on our back deck, and have seen an occasional one in fields beside highways, but have never seen one on the roadway itself. Let alone that close to houses. I was reminded of a year or two ago when our daughter spotted a roadrunner (yes, it really was - papa and daddy saw it too) near our house. This was unexpected as they do not usually hang out at this elevation. I guess I'll have to wear one of my (in)famous cartoon ties come payday to celebrate. That and avoid cliffs. And anvils, and anything made by the Acme company. In any event we continued with trepidation just in case there were phony panoramas or "instant hole" residue along our path. Beep Beep!

A Man And His Dogs

Tuesday night we rented and watched Marley And Me, a movie I have been avoiding watching due to a fear that I might react to it in a most non-male manner. There is something about movies mixing end of life and canines that will stir deep emotions in boys and men. The reactions in such flicks are stronger than during Bang The Drum Slowly or Brian's Song. If one wants to test the sensitivity of a grown man, plop him down in front of a T.V. set (or movie screen) and show him Old Yeller, or similar. As Marley And Me ended, I thought of the pets my family or I have had and how they left this earth. Towzer, a wire hair terrier died as a result of a dog fight where he was on the receiving end of 3-4 other dogs punishment. He was the dog I knew as a child and died when I was in the 3rd or 4th grade. During his final hour, I was busy playing a hockey game that my team lost. My brother's dog, Bear, an Old English Sheep Dog mix that he got when I was in the 4th grade succumbed to kidney failure when I was in college. When I was a Junior in college, my brother's next dog had a litter and I was given a pure white Shepherd/Malamute/Siberian mix with one blue eye and one brown eye. I named her Freyja and nicknamed her the "white wolf." She died suddenly some 7 years later while I was working for the forest service in South Dakota. Her litter mate, Marja died of old age a few years later. My wife had a poodle, Frisky, who suffered from old age/kidney failure was put down in the late '90s. Tungsten, a Siberian/Malamute/Whatever mix died after a seizure somewhere around 2001. Zmboni, a whatever mutt mix became ill, (some form of enteropothy) and was put down at the young age of 4. Narvik, another Husky mix died of old age 2 days before I was going to "do the deed." To this day, I believe she let herself go to save me the pain. I remember having lunch at a restaurant with friends when I felt a sudden "flash" and knew she had passed. Despite my daughter being alive for Tungsten and Zamboni, she was old enough to understand the finality of Narvik. For the next year, she blamed her grouchy moods on the loss of Narvik. This continued until we let her know that Narvik was no longer an excuse. We currently have a Yellow Lab named Star and a medium sized black "Rez Special" named Bear. I am not prepared for when what happens in movies happens to them. When the time comes, I will need to watch a movie about a sports hero who contracts a terminal disease and dies a long, painful agonizing death to cheer myself up.

It Seems To Be A Word - Gotta Love It

Having little to do this evening, I decided to attend a "barking dog" meeting at the local fire station. Actually the one in Kachina, but still local. The woman from the Coconino County Health Department (read animal control) briefly talked about the ordinance covering barking animals, then listened to the onslaught of vingettes. Vingettes of dogs at large, agressive dogs, people who walk dogs off leash in the forest, vindictive neighbors, and even vocal canines. I found it odd that only 30% of the dog bit involved barking dogs; you know that topic the meeting was supposed to be about. The crowd was less than satisfied with the ordinance and wanted a new one. Some wanted to know if they could sue nearby owners of barkers due to a reduced "quality of life." There was no clear answer from the woman from the county. She kept trying to keep it focused on BARKING, but some in the crowd were intent on discussing a shooting incident involving an agressive dog, resulting in a dead person. The reality of living in the county, and Kachina/Mountainaire in particular hit home with disappointment, and gasps were heard from many when one woman stated that her neighbors have FOUR dogs, and most residents here have AT LEAST TWO. She wanted statistics on the number of dogs out here. Her arithmophilia was contageous and others soon asked about dog license records. The obsession continued to grow. The question was eating them all: just how many dogs are there in Kachina Village and Mountainaire. I refrained from telling them to multiply the number of people by four. Yes the barking is a problem, and sometimes the barking level is off the scale, but I prefer that to the constant yapping into cell phones by some of my neighbors. It is to the point that I can not sit in my own yard without listening to someone's private conversation.

Calling Dr. Dolittle

I need to learn to speak dog. Our black whoozawhazit is desperately trying to communicate with me, making a series of half grunt and guttural sounds as she sets her head on my lap. The funny thing is my wife is sitting next to me, and she has no computer on her lap, so why does Bear prefer to talk to me? Maybe my life if a hallucination and I am really not human, but a dog. If this is true, what type of dog am I? I will take votes, but all frou frou/froo froo suggestions will be disqualified. I remind those who may suggest pansy breeds that I have access to a venerable pharmacopoeia of elements, concoctions and substances that may appear in your beverages. Certain hormones that cause funny things to happen to the gender of various species of animals come to mind.

Anderson Cooper and Dogs

As we wind down the day by throwing the tennis ball in the house for the dogs to chase, Anderson Cooper on CNN is anchoring coverage of the floods in IA and MO. Levee broke blah, blah, blah, underwater blah, blah, 1993, blah blah. Happen again, blah blah blah, development in the flood plain, blah, blah, blah, should we develop in the flood plain, blah, blah, OOPS! the ball wasn't supposed to go there. Should we really play ball in the house?

Our Talking dog.

Bear hates when I use the computer and will rest her head on my lap and start "talking" anytime I start surfing or blogging. She doesn't bark when I do this but uses a series of varying pitch non growl growls. She will keep it up until I stop. She only does this when I use the laptop; the desktop does not concern her as much. She has quite the vocabulary and seems proud of it. Star will just bring the tug-of-war rope to me and drop it on the keyboard.

I am in charge! No, really, I'm the boss.

Star is the most spoiled dog in the world. Not only do we allow her on the bed, but feel guilty when we make her move so there is room for us humans. I usually just roll her over which causes her to move to the foot of the bed - giving me the evil eye as she does so. The other night she was so insulted by the roll that she refused to even look at me or respond to my voice. By morning she recovered and was half sleeping with her head on my feet, acting like my best friend ever. Anxiously waiting for me to wake up and give her a morning belly rub. Does she have me figured, or what?

Doggie Dreams

Do you ever wonder what dogs dream of? I think our yellow lab, Star sometimes dreams of being in a tennis ball factory and is assigned to test the balls for bounce, durability and slobber adhesion. Our black whatever-it-is, Bear probably dreams of stealing the tennis ball from Star. Dogs and children add a tremendous amount of life to a household. A few years ago when our daughter was 4 or 5 years old someone asked her what kind of dog Star is and she replied "A yellow laboratory." I wonder if she ever said that I work in a chemistry labrador.