Merry Christmas!

The dogs' Christmas gift was cheap this year, but they loved it anyway. :)



Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Hypothyroidism

Guess whose thyroid is broken?

"Let's play with this half-eaten tennis ball!!!"



Routine bloodwork revealed this new ailment, which we can add to Dozer's ever-growing pile of health issues. The symptoms of hypothyroidism aren't particularly obvious: generally acting "under the weather," easily tired, weight gain, hair loss and skin infections. Dozer's old age and allergies produce the same symptoms, so we weren't thinking about the thyroid.

"OMG THROW IT!"

The solution is a simple one—one tiny pill every twelve hours for the rest of D's life—but it's amazing how difficult this seemingly simple task is. Mostly, we've had trouble being home at pill time. Right now we're administering pills at 6 AM and 6 PM, but because I've been at class and job-recruiting events on many days, and Byrd works until late, the 6 PM target isn't always hit.

"I believe I can fly!"

The treatment has made a difference. Dozer seems to have regained some of his goofy spirit, he's more interested in getting attention and pats, and he's even playing a bit with Star. All his joints still creak when he moves around, but he seems less "old."

"Here it comes again!"

Ironically, Dozer isn't the first family member with hypothyroidism. Byrd couldn't help but be a tiny bit pleased that Big D was taking after his daddy. "Now we both have to take pills forever!" he says.

"Ugh, now it has her drool all over it."

Doesn't our backyard look depressing? It's 100% dirt. We were responsible citizens during this severe drought and we didn't water our backyard grass at all... so it died. Nevertheless, we've just heard that our local water plant has broken, so the city has issued a formal emergency: no outdoor watering, period.

Roast Dog Recipe

Ingredients:
2 lazy indoor dogs
1 yard of dirt
1 bowl water
1 sun

Set outdoor temperature to 100+ degrees. Use full sun for even roast.

Steps:
1. Place dogs and water in dirt. Dogs may run at first. Lazier dogs will settle faster.

2. When dogs have settled, set timer for 15 minutes. Check on dogs every 2 minutes, or leave door partly open.

3. Dogs will turn themselves over and will apply water as needed.

4. If dog begins to whine or bark, check for doneness. Older dogs may be done sooner. How to test for doneness. Your roast dog is done if: voluntarily comes to back door; has a sweaty animal odor; is hot to touch; tongue hangs out.

5. Remove roast dog from yard after 15 minutes or when done. DO NOT OVERCOOK.

6. Allow roast dog to rest until cool.

Neglected

So, yeah, I got accepted to the Masters in Professional Accounting program at the University of Texas. One of the top accounting programs in the U.S. I'm pretty much guaranteed a job upon graduation, as long as I keep my GPA above 3.5.

It's a really short master's program—I'll be done in about a year. The brevity translates into a brutal pace. This summer's classes are a mere five weeks, crash courses in tax and financial accounting. The grades will be based solely on three major exams in each class.
Five weeks. Six exams. I'm not very good at math, but these numbers spell disaster.

"Soooooo bored."

Needless to say, I've been cramming all day, every day.
If I survive these next few weeks, there's only one day of break between summer and fall semesters. No joke, my calendar goes: Saturday–final; Sunday–break; Monday–final; Tuesday–fall class. (Yes, I have a final on a Saturday.)

I rather feel as if I've just leapt onto the back of a bucking bronco.

Please forgive me for being rather absent these last few weeks. I'm desperately trying to stay on this horse. I'm neglecting all my friends and family... and even the dogs. It sucks.

"Too busy to cut my nails? How tragic."

Masters of their universe

I'm back in school as of today, going for that accounting master's and CPA.

Summer classes are month-long crash courses on subjects I don't know much about. As you can imagine, when I'm not in class, I'm studying like crazy.

The dogs are doing their level best to help me. Fail, that is.

"Lady! Drop that book and let us out! Posthaste!"

OK, fine, we'll go outside for a little while.

"My piercingly shrill whining will continue until you throw my toy."

Go play by yourself. Please. I have to read two textbook chapters a day.

This is why someday Star will be diagnosed with skin cancer.

Okay, dogs! It's like 100 zillion degrees out here, the textbook pages are damp with sweat, and my notepad has spontaneously burst into flames. Can we please go back inside?

"'Scuse me, I have to smell your ugly shirt... while you're wearing it."

I'm begging you guys, please go play in another room. I need quiet, I have to study.

"HAI! I tore up this toy and now I have to PEE!!
Can we go outside?!? BTW, there's toy all over the carpet."

*sob sob sob*

Garage inspector Dozer

"Violation: no treats or toys on work table."

"Now performing 'ball test' to determine whether workers are properly trained."

"Subject neither picks up nor throws the ball."

"Second violation: Worker ignores Inspector."

"Gah, he's stepping on the ball! Third violation: Unsafe work place!"

"Fourth violation: Multiple workers clearly untrained to perform simple task. Shut it down!!"

Nail trimming time!

Star needs her nails cut today. The hardest part is finding her.

Do you see her hiding in the living room?

Now do you see her?

She's a bit bigger than the table...

I think Star is part ostrich.

"Argh! I can't fit my big butt under the end table!"

I'll have to trim her nails later. I can't convince her to come out.

On to an unsuspecting victim!

"So... uh... where's that treat you promised?"

The Grey Ghost

Star and I went to the pet store the other day to buy some dog food.

Star loves the outings, but she'd been cooped up at home for too long, and was on her worst behavior at the store. She couldn't hold a "sit," she dragged me up and down the aisles, she put the brakes on at the rawhide buckets, and she saw something in a pile of dog beds that she felt needed a good barking about.

We finally made it to the cash register with the heavy bag of food. For reasons I don't understand, when people comment about Star, they admire her coat color. And today was no exception. The sales clerk was a very nice lady, very chatty, and she almost immediately started talking about Star's coat color.

"Why, your dog has the most lovely color. That's just amazing! It's so unusual," the clerk exclaimed. "It's such a soft color. And, oh, her eyes are gorgeous. Just stunning, matches perfectly with her coat."

Star knows praise when she hears it, and she popped out of the sit in order to better waggle her behind. She whipped my legs with her tail, then turned to whip the store clerk. I didn't know what to say, so I just said, "Thank you. We also think it's a nice color."

"Oh yes," said the clerk, "I don't see many of this breed with this kind of coloring. It's exquisite."

"You don't...?" I puzzled about this for a few seconds. "I thought it was quite common. When we went to adopt her at the shelter, there were several other dogs that looked just like her, color and all." Star started to bark obnoxiously at the shelf of dog beds again.

"Well," says the clerk, "she's quite a catch, I think. You know, this breed, their nickname is... they call it..." A long pause, while Star strained on the lead to sniff a suspicious stain on a lower shelf. "Ah, they call it the 'Grey Ghost.' Because most of them have a sort of grey coat, you know."

The clerk thought Star was a Weimaraner.

I didn't say anything to contradict the clerk, because Star is a mutt we adopted from the shelter, so who knows what she really is. Besides, Star was being quite naughty, and I felt Weimaraners could take the rap this time around.

Addendum: So you understand my surprise more fully, I must say that this store clerk was not your average kid running a register at a national chain pet store. This was a long-time employee at a small local pet store—a pet store that promotes "bully breed" adoption, no less, so it's not like she'd never seen a pit bull type dog before. This nice lady cheerfully went on to tell me some interesting facts about Weimaraners, since the surprise on my face told her that I clearly didn't know what I'd adopted!

I have pit bulls. I CAN'T buy your insurance.

Saleswoman: Mrs. Thomas? I was just calling to let you know that Texas auto policy premiums have increased, but Allstate's premiums have actually decreased. I wanted to offer you--

Me: Oh, Allstate? Yeah, I can't buy your insurance.

Saleswoman: You... can't?

Me: Yeah, see, we want to keep our auto policy and our homeowner's policy together. You know, for the multi-line discount and all that.

Saleswoman (excited): Oh, of course! Well, Allstate does homeowner's too and the rates--

Me: Um, no. I know we had Allstate auto for a while, a really long time ago. But we chose a different company when we bought our house, because ya'll wouldn't cover the house.

Saleswoman: We wouldn't?

Me: No. Allstate told me they won't cover houses with pit bulls.

Saleswoman: What? Pit bulls? I didn't... Allstate won't...?

Me: Yes. We have pit bulls. Allstate actually doesn't cover several different kinds of dogs. Pit bulls are one.

Saleswoman (flabbergasted): I... I've never heard of that. I'd have to look into it. Pit bulls, you say? In the house?

Me: Yes, in the house. They're our pets, you know.

Saleswoman: Yes, of course. Well I... I didn't know about this. I've never heard of it. Thank you for the information. I'll have to look into this.

Me: Sure. Good night.

------------------

In other news, foster dog Mustang Sally and Star have become super play buddies. They love to roughhouse, chase each other, and play tug. I'll have some photos or a video in a while. I needn't have worried about their compatibility.

Even better, my mom recently gave me a pile of my childhood artwork and stories. I figured I'd share a few of the best ones here, from time to time.

So for today, here's an untitled creation that I drew in first grade. I've never seen this work before (except, presumably, when I drew it) so I'm afraid I don't have an interesting background story to tell about it. I will say that I believe the scene is entirely fictional; I don't think this is depicting something I saw.

Lovely spring days

One of the things I will miss when I get a real job (if I ever do, heh heh) is my current ability to plop down in a chair in the backyard and enjoy the flowers, sun, and breeze of Central Texas springtime. Texas spring is a very short-lived and unpredictable month (two months if you're lucky). Most years it's sunny and pleasant, and we all rush out and do our gardening before miserable summer gets here. Occasionally it will even rain.

Bloom, wisteria, bloom! Summer's around the corner!

Yes, that's agility equipment in the yard. Star and I have been practicing, now that the weather is nicer. Star's problem is not so much in the doing, but in which obstacle she should be doing. She happily does them all, in any order she pleases, rather than pay attention to my hand signals, commands, or body orientation. The cheese she receives for doing things in correct order just isn't enough of a motivator; I'm tempted to try a squeaky toy, but I'm worried that that will be a little bit too exciting, and her pea-brain will explode.

Worst of all, Star is no working dog. Although she enjoys agility at first, she quickly gets tired (usually within 15 minutes), and her performance degrades significantly—to the point where she walks around or even through jumps. She knows those bars fall out, so why would she jump them when she can just push them over? So, I have a very short window during which to engage her.

Although Star is not really an agility dog, I think the agility is good physical and mental exercise, so we keep it up.

Too... much... agility... zzzzzzz....

The crib mattress has been very popular—so popular that I bought a second one. Dozer and Star are roomies, but no matter what Star thinks, they are NOT friends. Dozer refused to share the crib mattress with Star. If she picked a spot beside him on the mattress, he immediately moved to the floor. This defeated the whole purpose of the crib mattress, which was to provide a soft sleeping place for Dozer's old bones.

So I got a second mattress, and the dogs each sleep on one. Yes, Dozer is spoiled rotten.


"Mooooom, her mattress is touching mine!!"

The raw feeding experiment has come to a halt. I ran into several difficulties, compounded by the dogs acquiring a stomach bug (not related to the raw food). The major problems were the fire ants and flies that were immediately attracted to the food, mere minutes after the food appeared outside. Fire ants are a particular problem in Texas and Dozer is allergic to any kind of insect sting. The only way to avoid the fire ants is to raw feed indoors, something I have determined is just not sanitary. I also ran into some minor difficulties, including Dozer not wanting to chew bones (he prefers soft foods nowadays) and Star spitting out any and all attempts to balance the nutritional value via eggs, fish oil, veggie mash, or anything else. When the dogs got the stomach bug, that tipped the scales, and I put them back on the expensive allergy-free kibble so that I could get back to a "last known good" configuration. I will probably retry raw feeding in the future, but I need to figure out how to deal with the peculiarities.



"You will throw this. Now. Pleeeeeeeeese."

Dozer had his annual vet checkup the other day, and tests came back with borderline low thyroid. We are going to watch and see if it crosses into hypothyroidism. Byrd has hypothyroidism so we already know a bit about it. Speaking of Byrd...

What is he doing to our back door? Well, because the house isn't painted yet, the unpainted door and doorframe have been exposed to the elements for a zillion years (okay, five). Consequently, both door and frame rotted.

I would just like to state for the record that I WAS RIGHT. I WAS 100% RIGHT.

Last week....
Me: Honey, the doorframe looks icky. I think it should be replaced before the house painters start.
Byrd: Haha, oh sweetie, you're so cute when you try to talk about manly things.
Me: No, really, when I tap on it, it sounds hollow. I think it's rotten.
Byrd: Nonsense, I know everything about houses, and there's no way it could be rotten.
Me: I'm sure you're right, but I'm so dumb, I just don't get it. Can you please demonstrate to me how it is not rotten?
Byrd: Of course, dear. Look how solid this wood is.
(Pokes doorframe with screwdriver, which sinks straight into rotten wood.)
Byrd: Well, it wasn't supposed to do that...
(Pokes doorframe again. Doorframe crumbles.)
Byrd: This doorframe is rotten!
Me: No way! That's impossible!

And so, we replaced the door.

The new door lacks a window, but once the house is painted (in one week!!), I intend to get a screen door. That will make it easier to enjoy pleasant Texas spring weather!

Raw feeding

Two days ago I launched a grand new experiment: raw feeding. (For the dogs, of course.)

The reason is twofold: to see if Dozer's allergies are lessened by eating fresh foods rather than kibble (incredibly expensive special kibble), and to help Star keep her teeth clean.

It hasn't been an easy transition. On top of the need to provide a nutritionally balanced diet, I'm dealing with two very sheltered dogs. Neither of them have ever had raw meat or real bones before. Yesterday, neither of them had a clue what to do with their first raw meat bones, a couple of turkey necks. Star wasn't even certain she was supposed to be putting it into her mouth. (Her wide-eyed expression said, Is this a JOKE? You want me to eat THIS?? You're sick, lady! Sick!)

I had decided to start the experiment with poultry because the bones were smaller and I thought it would be easier for the dogs to practice eating. Dozer chewed gamely on his turkey necks, but Star abandoned hers after extensive licking and half-hearted nibbling.

Today, I gave them beef bones for the first time. The dogs were much more enthusiastic about the beef. I don't know if this is because beef tastes better than poultry when raw, or if it's because the dogs were hungrier after their failures from yesterday, or if they had just gotten the hang of this new gnawing-for-food thing.

This is ten-year-old Dozer gnawing his first-ever raw beef bone. This was a very big leg bone, more for chewing practice than for food (yes, my dogs are so sheltered, they had to practice eating a real bone). There's a smaller, meatier neck bone in the foreground; Dozer was studying it while he practiced on the big bone.

And Star is doing her best on a beef neck bone—but she's still nibbling and licking instead of chewing.

There we go... Finally, she's moved from nibbling to chewing on it! Aww, she looks like a Real Tough Dog, not a Miss Dainty Prissypants.

Two hours later... Still gnawing... And after they finished, they both went into the bedroom and took a looong nap on their beloved new bed. It was quiet here all day!

The major downside to raw feeding so far has been the constant cleanup (best not to feed raw meat indoors, must remove uneaten leftovers, have to wipe dogs' feet and muzzles before they come back inside), followed by the time-consuming nature of the process (preparing the food, sitting outside with dogs during hours-long gnaw sessions to make sure there are no fights over bones, etc). On the upside, the fresh food is less than half the price of Dozer's special allergy kibble.


It's too soon to say whether this is doing anything for Dozer's allergies. I can already concur that homemade food with raw meat and bones is a lot of mess and hassle, but if it solves Dozer's allergy problems, maybe it's worth it.

We'll see how it goes over the next few weeks.

Warm Holiday Wishes

It doesn't feel much like Christmastime here in Texas at the moment. Until yesterday, it was sunny, dry, and in the mid-80s.

If there's dead grass in the photo, I know it's winter. Or possibly summer.

I tried to get the dogs to make a cute Christmas photo in front of the tree. This was a total failure.


"So, what's my motivation in this scene?"

"OOOOHHHH!!!! A chance to be the center of attention!! Move over!"

 

"Yeah! Front row!! Here I am!"

"Dozer? Where are you going?"

"O hai! What's that little flashy box you're holding?"

Though Dozer has always had an obvious distaste for Star (who schmoozes and fawns on him obliviously), only recently has he been actively avoiding her. In fact, many of us are avoiding her. Her breath reeks. Consequently, she will be going in for a dental cleaning next week. This will be her first time under anesthesia since we got her... and really, her first time at the vet's office for anything more than an annual checkup.

Dozer is also going for surgery next week. He has an odd little skin bump that would be harmless anywhere else, but unfortunately, it's on the underside of his eyelid and is likely irritating his cornea.

As you may recall, Dozer's Christmas gift last year was a second knee surgery. His Christmas gift this year is eyelid surgery. Poor old guy, no wonder he's such a Scrooge. :)

Happy Holidays!

Pit bull ownership: a felony?

Texas is about to start the 2011 legislative session. Already, East Texas legislators have been presented with a proposal to ban pit bulls.

The proposal would make a felon out of anyone who is found in possession of a "pit bull" (currently defined in the proposal as APBT, AST, SBT, AB, mixes, and any dog that resembles one).

Probably aware that a ban is a longshot, the group has a fallback proposal: force "pit bull" owners to follow a variety of special restrictions, e.g. muzzles, special containment, special license, liability insurance, etc.

Being a Texan "pit bull" owner myself, I'm deeply concerned not only about the proposal, but about the logic driving it.

East Texas has a dog problem. A large number of abusive, neglectful, irresponsible dog owners reside there--and their unfortunate dogs happen to be "pit bulls" (the most common type of dog, because the definition is so vague and generic). Because much of East Texas is rural and impoverished, many of those areas have pathetic dog laws--not even a leash law in many areas--and they are lacking in animal control officers, dog owner resources (spay/neuter clinics, training classes, etc.), and humane societies.

But while East Texas wants to deal with their dog problems by getting rid of "pit bulls," the rest of the state doesn't seem to need such regulations. In my area, for instance, we have three nearby low-cost spay/neuter clinics; regular vaccination clinics; more humane societies, rescue groups, and shelters than I can count on one hand; training classes galore; a highly responsive animal control department; and decent dog laws that let AC do their job before there's a real problem.

We still have a "pit bull" problem, in that there are tons of "pit bulls" in our local shelters. Again, that's due to the extremely vague definition of the term "pit bull," resulting in almost any medium-sized, short-haired dog being labeled as such. (I suppose what we really have is a shelter glut of short-haired dogs.)

But around here, "pit bull" isn't such a dirty word as in East Texas. We have several active groups in the animal community that stick up for pit bulls, educate about them, and work hard to rescue, train, and rehome them. The normalization of pit bulls--that is, the framing of pit bulls as pets and family dogs--has reduced their desirability with thugs and idiots.

Love-A-Bull, in particular, has been boldly pushing responsible ownership values, and their large group of responsible, upstanding, pit bull-owning supporters has demonstrated to the less-responsible crowd, as well as the general public, that "pit bulls" are not necessarily status symbols or badass dawgs. These dogs can don pink tutus and glittery bunny ears, and parade amongst hundreds of other "pit bulls," and not have a mentionable incident. The theme of spay/neuter was prominent at Love-A-Bull's heavily-attended Pit Bull Awareness event last week--much to the crowd's pleasure.

A pit bull ban would only infect the rest of Texas with the pit bull problems experienced by East Texas. The attitude of the general populace toward a particular breed ultimately becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. When you portray a particular breed as dangerous, scary, evil, or threatening--as they have done in East Texas, and as breed-specific laws do--you will find that that breed becomes used almost exclusively in a negative manner.

Just ask Ohio about the results of their breed-specific state law:

Shawn Webster, a Butler County [Ohio] veterinarian and former state representative . . . believes Ohio’s singling out of the breed has helped foster the vicious stereotype, and led gang members and drug dealers to seek them as status symbols and for protection.


“From that point on, the population of pit bulls exploded,” he said. “I think it’s put a stereotype on this breed that’s been harmful to everyone involved.”

Only through social normalization of the breed, and intolerance for irresponsible human behaviors--as is being worked toward in Austin and other areas--can you reduce the number of thugs and irresponsible jerks who acquire the dogs for inappropriate purposes.

Get with the program, East Texas.

Pitfalls of prey drive

In a nutshell, prey drive is that little voice inside a dog's head that says "Omigosh! Lookit that thing moving! GET IT!!"

It's not an either-or thing; all dogs have it, on a sort of varying scale. Some dogs have high prey drive, some have low prey drive, and some are in the middle.

Many working dogs need prey drive to do their job. And that's totally understandable. It makes rounding up sheep, chasing, fetching, tracking, and many other canine activities possible. Skilled handlers use prey drive to their full advantage.

But we're not all skilled handlers with working dogs. I'd say a major portion of dog owners just want a buddy. And if your goal is to have a nice couch potato pet dog that hangs out with you and the family, cruises around town with you, and is generally well-behaved in most situations, then prey drive is not your friend. Not that you can do anything about it except manage it properly.

I got lucky with my last two resident dogs. Felanie was food driven. If it wasn't food, she didn't care. Dozer is ball driven. I think some people might say "Well, it takes prey drive to make him chase the ball." But it's a very ball-specific prey drive. You have to work pretty hard to get him excited about anything else, even a squirrel.

Then came Star. Star has prey drive galore. She's the first for me, really (not counting a Blue Heeler foster dog we had temporarily), and it's taken a bit of adjustment here at home to deal with all the new and curious behaviors that she displays.

She chases any moving thing. She lunges and barks at odd objects and animals. She chases and stares at spots of light on the wall--especially if they're moving for some reason. She bursts out the door into the backyard at top speed, ready to chase any bird or squirrel that might be innocently sitting in the grass. She'll even go bonkers over nothing at all; I often see her staring alertly at a wall, or the carpet, or into space as if she's found a ghost.



Once I finally recognized her high prey drive as the driving force behind all these crazy behaviors, we set about changing routines and procedures so that she had less opportunity for an outburst, and more opportunity to learn self control. Finding a great trainer helped a lot.

Star is not allowed to explode out of the back door anymore. I hold her collar and calmly walk her out to the edge of the deck, then tell her "walk" before I let go of her collar. If she runs, I go get her, take her back to the deck, and repeat until she walks off. She's become much calmer about going into the yard, and I think the birds and squirrels appreciate it.

Star may not bark or lunge at things anymore. She is not allowed to pull towards another dog when she is on leash, no matter for what reason. If she acts inappropriately because her prey drive is egging her on, I stand in front of her and tell her to do a "sit-down" combo three times. This not only gives her an immediate task to focus on, which distracts her from the "prey," but also teaches her that inappropriate behavior nets an undesirable result. She's a very lazy dog and doesn't like doing puppy pushups! Additionally, both the "sit" and "down" positions are submissive and relaxed postures, which puts her in a very different mindset, because prey drive is ramped up when a dog is able to take a more dominant and excited posture.

These are just a few of the steps we've taken to work on reducing Star's prey drive. Though it certainly would be easier if she didn't have much prey drive to begin with, we have the biggest effect on Star's behavior through responsible and careful management and handling. A professional trainer who understands prey drive has been a big help for us in determining the best methods to use to modify Star's behavior.

Star has come a long way since we adopted her. But it's still a little freaky to see her staring wide-eyed at the corner of our bedroom when there's nothing there!

Good news, bad news, and news

There's been a lot going down in Jentown these days, hence my prolonged blog absence. (I've noticed, actually, that by viewing the number of posts per month in the archives, you can easily see when I have a full-time job versus freelancing or unemployed.)

The good news, for me anyway, is that I got word today that my contract with my employer has been extended. So whereas the full-time job was to end next week, it now ends in May. Yay! Steady income! <3

In other good news, Dozer went to the ortho surgeon yesterday for his post-op (after surgery for torn meniscus) and got the all-clear to go back to his normal activities, minus the crazy circus act he puts on while playing fetch. So fetch is now more of a ball-rolling thing (soccer?).

Bonus photo of me in 1983 (age 4) about to whack my little sis in the face with a tether ball:

(Yes, I am wearing shorts. That's just a really long shirt.)

In the bad news category, I got sick with the mysterious illness again (swollen throat and fever)--it was a minor case that went away after a few days, but I still went to the ENT to try and get a diagnosis, only to learn that I will probably never get that. The ENT has concluded that 1) it's a virus, but unknown exactly which (the common ones like mono, strep, etc., have been ruled out), 2) it doesn't seem very contagious (no one around me gets it), 3) it's cyclical in nature for reasons he doesn't understand, and 4) all he can do is treat the symptoms.

Number 4 is unfortunate in that only steroids seem to work against it, and the Dr. says I shouldn't take steroids more than about three or four times a year. Since this is something that I get every two or three months, I plan to save the steroid requests for the bad cases like the one last August, where I was dealing with a high fever for almost a week (the dr. that time gave me antibiotics, which did not help at all).

In other news, Byrd is expressing interest in higher education on his own, without any prompting from me. I bought him an SAT prep book last week, with the hope that he would look through it and realize that college isn't out of reach. We sat down for a couple nights in a row to look over the vocab sections, like fill-in-the-blank sentences and item comparisons (hand:glove::foot:___). He was initially very confused ("Hand dot dot glove four dots foot two dots what? I have to know Morse code?") but seems to be doing better with just a little practice.

I hope he will hang in there and move toward community college as a first step. He's getting too old to continue at his current type of job, as labor, even if it's management-level. He and I both think he could be a great transportation engineer--he's often been consulted by engineers for various traffic projects and works closely with them in a number of ways, he knows the basics, is good at mathematical calculations, and he's a quick study--but the obstacles he's facing to get there are pretty significant, including his inability to read or write well, the length of time since he was last in school (and he never finished high school for that matter), his agoraphobia, and his undiagnosed but blatantly obvious dyslexia.

Anyway...

In my next post I am going to discuss something that has been a popular subject of late: breed-specific legislation versus breed-specific voluntary community programs (i.e. free spay/neuter for "pit bulls")--and why it's acceptable (from an ethical standpoint) to single out "pit bulls" (or other types or breeds of dogs) for special treatment in the latter case, but not the former.

Bonus photo of the word that Byrd slapped down to beat the pants off me in Scrabble:

If I recall correctly, this baby managed to hit several double or triple letter/word squares, and scored extra points because Byrd used all his letters. I think it ended up worth over 70 points, and as it was the last word in the game, I couldn't recover. Well played, sir, well played! (Yes, Byrd gets to use the dictionary freely to look up words, to level the playing field a bit. But still, what a perfect storm.)