I suppose I'm just a bit slow on the uptake, but I finally figured out what motivates Star. It's not food, it's not toys... it's dogs--and specifically, it's DOZER.
Dozer is her number one best bud (he would totally disagree--he still holds her in disdain).
So, okay, it's training session time at our house. For ten minutes I am supposed to spend time teaching Star the latest commands... I'm trying my best to get Star to pay attention, and she's watching Dozer while he plays with a toy, wanders into the bedroom, gets a drink, falls asleep... She's so infatuated with him that even my beefy smushy stinky treats and highest-pitched happy voice have no effect. If I put Dozer in some other room, Star tries to find him. Screw the treats, screw me and my stupid commands.
Finally I ask Dozer over. She wants to watch him? Fine. She might as well watch him do tricks. Dozer happily does "sit," "down," "bang bang," and "shake." Treat, treat, treat, treat.
By the time we get to "shake," Star's eyes are as round as an owl's, and... could she be...? Yes, she's turning green with envy. NOW I've got her full attention. WTF, Lady, where are MY treats??? When I tell Dozer to "shake," Star's paw comes up just as fast.
Bingo.
Why didn't I think of this before?
So I spend fifteen minutes running an impromptu competition between the dogs. Star is watching Dozer just as much as she's watching me. The speed of her response to commands skyrockets. He wants the treats? Well so do I!! He's going to sit? Well so am I!!
As an added incentive, if Star screws up, no treats for her--and Dozer gets TWO treats just for being there. Now that really sets her off. You can almost see her jaw set in determination as soon as she realizes what's happening when she messes up. (Dozer, meanwhile, has question marks flying out of his head--what are all these treats for??)
After the training is over and the treats are eaten, Star is still so excited that she expends her remaining energy doing zoomies around the house.
This is a FAR cry from just a few days ago, when she spent the training session hunched over, staring into space, and generally acting like a school kid waiting for the last bell to ring. She would glance at me with despair, as if to ask "Why are you doing this to me? It's stupid and weird."
It seems that Star has moved from a reluctant trainee to a tough competitor. She's a bit sloppy, but she's enthusiastic, and that's fine with me. I'll refine the tricks later--right now I'm just happy that she's actually enjoying the training. I'm also really hoping that by seeing Dozer enjoying the tricks and treats, Star will discover that training is not some form of bizarre torture reserved just for her--it's a fun and normal thing that dogs and people do together.
Yesterday she learned "catch it" (catch the treat) and I refined the "sit" and "watch me" commands. Today I taught her "sit pretty" and "sit up" (sitting up from a down position).
Dozer actually did terribly by comparison, because his favorite trick is "bang bang," so he would collapse on his side in a death pose regardless of what I was asking. I think he realized he was just being used. :)
Friday, March 13, 2009
Sunday, March 08, 2009
The trainer came...
...and she was quite helpful.
Mostly, it was nice to have an authority figure there who could talk to Byrd about what it would take to try to reduce Dozer's anxiety and ball obsession. I had already told Byrd countless times that he needed to start taking responsibility and step up to the plate, especially when it came to walks. The trainer gently reinforced that idea. :D
She also suggested making the walk less like a walk and more like a fun game of fetch. This involved a special squeaky tennis ball that Dozer latched on to instantly (of course). We walked a few steps, played fetch and administered treats, and then walked a few more steps. Dozer did very well on his walk once the squeaky tennis ball appeared. A bit nervous, but not enough for him to shut down. The ball obsession worked for us in this case.
I'm not sure he enjoyed the walk per se--he probably would have had a ton more fun if he had been playing fetch in the backyard--but at least we managed to go a short distance without a bunch of slinking and whining. If he did it out of love for the ball, okay, I'll take that. Maybe some day he will decide that the walk's not so bad by itself without the ball.
The other topic we covered was Dozer's whining and obnoxious behavior toward guests at the house. He thinks every visitor is a ball-throwing machine, and will whine and pressure people to play with him. We've been very unsuccessful getting him to stop, in part because most guests readily give in to his cute face and shrill whine (he is like a siren luring guests to their doom) and in part because we've been notoriously inconsistent in terms of getting him to stop.
So, we are going to train Dozer to "Go to your bed," so we can ask him to do this when guests come over. Ideally, this will remove Dozer from the immediate scene so he can't hypnotize people into serving him. If Dozer fails to stay in his bed, he is to be put in "time out" for five minutes or until he is quiet, whichever is longer. Then he is to go back to his bed (with ample rewards when he is in bed and quiet).
This is actually something I tried to implement several years ago, but I was never successful because Byrd was not on board with me. I would get caught up being hostess for guests and I was simply not able to attend to guests and dogs all at the same time. Meanwhile, Byrd would completely ignore whatever the dogs were doing; if they got out of their beds when I wasn't looking, he wouldn't bother putting them back. I eventually gave up the idea. Now, hearing a similar strategy from an experienced, expensive trainer rather than his nagging know-it-all wife, he seems eager to make it work.
Fine with me. I really hope he sticks with this, and does all the things he agreed to today.
On an interesting side note, I finally managed to partially pin down one of the reasons Byrd has so much trouble with communication. He has a tendency to volunteer information without any context whatsoever, thus leading his listener to wonder what they are supposed to do with that information. It's rather confusing and frustrating for both parties--obviously so for the listener, who is not sure how to respond, but for Byrd, too, because he doesn't get the response he's seeking.
So today, the trainer was telling us about getting Dozer to go to his bed. Byrd suddenly interjected that Dozer has two beds--one in the dining room and one in the bedroom. There was a moment of silence as both the trainer and I simultaneously wondered why Byrd was providing this information. Was Byrd worried that the trainer might think we were too poor to afford more than one bed? Or was he just correcting the trainer's grammar (she should be saying beds, not bed)? Or was he going to ask some sort of question, like are the beds in the right rooms?
I finally asked Byrd, "What point are you trying to make by saying that?" Because it was not at all clear, and the trainer was struggling to find the right response. Byrd then explained that he wanted to know which bed we should teach Dozer to go to.
Byrd asked me later, "Do I say weird things or something? It seems like people have trouble understanding me."
When he has asked me this in the past, I've been able to say, yes, you are hard to follow. But I wasn't really able to figure out why.
This time I thought carefully about what had happened, and I realized that much of what Byrd says seems random because he doesn't give enough context. If I were him in the same situation as earlier, I would have asked the question first and foremost: "Which bed should I send the dog to?" and then supply any additional information as necessary: "He has two beds" (probably not necessary because this is implied by the question).
In Byrd's case, he supplies the additional information and leaves the question unspoken, expecting us to essentially read his mind and see his point / answer his question.
It leads to some very interesting and bizarre conversations, especially when Byrd draws some sort of parallel but forgets to draw the same parallel for his audience--it seems as if he's gone completely off-topic. It doesn't help that he's usually two or three sentences too late when he brings it up.
Example:
Byrd also says he feels left out of conversations, and now I realize it's because when he's volunteering information, people are saying "that's nice" or "that's interesting" and moving on without realizing that he's really asking a question or making an important point somewhere in his mind.
Knowing this, I am going to make more of an effort to ask Byrd to explain his purpose whenever he issues one of his random observations.
So I guess today's conversation with the dog trainer was helpful with more than just the dog.
Mostly, it was nice to have an authority figure there who could talk to Byrd about what it would take to try to reduce Dozer's anxiety and ball obsession. I had already told Byrd countless times that he needed to start taking responsibility and step up to the plate, especially when it came to walks. The trainer gently reinforced that idea. :D
She also suggested making the walk less like a walk and more like a fun game of fetch. This involved a special squeaky tennis ball that Dozer latched on to instantly (of course). We walked a few steps, played fetch and administered treats, and then walked a few more steps. Dozer did very well on his walk once the squeaky tennis ball appeared. A bit nervous, but not enough for him to shut down. The ball obsession worked for us in this case.
I'm not sure he enjoyed the walk per se--he probably would have had a ton more fun if he had been playing fetch in the backyard--but at least we managed to go a short distance without a bunch of slinking and whining. If he did it out of love for the ball, okay, I'll take that. Maybe some day he will decide that the walk's not so bad by itself without the ball.
The other topic we covered was Dozer's whining and obnoxious behavior toward guests at the house. He thinks every visitor is a ball-throwing machine, and will whine and pressure people to play with him. We've been very unsuccessful getting him to stop, in part because most guests readily give in to his cute face and shrill whine (he is like a siren luring guests to their doom) and in part because we've been notoriously inconsistent in terms of getting him to stop.
So, we are going to train Dozer to "Go to your bed," so we can ask him to do this when guests come over. Ideally, this will remove Dozer from the immediate scene so he can't hypnotize people into serving him. If Dozer fails to stay in his bed, he is to be put in "time out" for five minutes or until he is quiet, whichever is longer. Then he is to go back to his bed (with ample rewards when he is in bed and quiet).
This is actually something I tried to implement several years ago, but I was never successful because Byrd was not on board with me. I would get caught up being hostess for guests and I was simply not able to attend to guests and dogs all at the same time. Meanwhile, Byrd would completely ignore whatever the dogs were doing; if they got out of their beds when I wasn't looking, he wouldn't bother putting them back. I eventually gave up the idea. Now, hearing a similar strategy from an experienced, expensive trainer rather than his nagging know-it-all wife, he seems eager to make it work.
Fine with me. I really hope he sticks with this, and does all the things he agreed to today.
On an interesting side note, I finally managed to partially pin down one of the reasons Byrd has so much trouble with communication. He has a tendency to volunteer information without any context whatsoever, thus leading his listener to wonder what they are supposed to do with that information. It's rather confusing and frustrating for both parties--obviously so for the listener, who is not sure how to respond, but for Byrd, too, because he doesn't get the response he's seeking.
So today, the trainer was telling us about getting Dozer to go to his bed. Byrd suddenly interjected that Dozer has two beds--one in the dining room and one in the bedroom. There was a moment of silence as both the trainer and I simultaneously wondered why Byrd was providing this information. Was Byrd worried that the trainer might think we were too poor to afford more than one bed? Or was he just correcting the trainer's grammar (she should be saying beds, not bed)? Or was he going to ask some sort of question, like are the beds in the right rooms?
I finally asked Byrd, "What point are you trying to make by saying that?" Because it was not at all clear, and the trainer was struggling to find the right response. Byrd then explained that he wanted to know which bed we should teach Dozer to go to.
Byrd asked me later, "Do I say weird things or something? It seems like people have trouble understanding me."
When he has asked me this in the past, I've been able to say, yes, you are hard to follow. But I wasn't really able to figure out why.
This time I thought carefully about what had happened, and I realized that much of what Byrd says seems random because he doesn't give enough context. If I were him in the same situation as earlier, I would have asked the question first and foremost: "Which bed should I send the dog to?" and then supply any additional information as necessary: "He has two beds" (probably not necessary because this is implied by the question).
In Byrd's case, he supplies the additional information and leaves the question unspoken, expecting us to essentially read his mind and see his point / answer his question.
It leads to some very interesting and bizarre conversations, especially when Byrd draws some sort of parallel but forgets to draw the same parallel for his audience--it seems as if he's gone completely off-topic. It doesn't help that he's usually two or three sentences too late when he brings it up.
Example:
- I ask, "Can you reach that bowl on the top shelf? I'm going to make pancakes. Do you want some?"
- "We got a coupon for Home Depot in the mail," says Byrd as he pulls down the bowl.
- "Er... okay," I say (no idea why he's telling me this). Byrd wanders off, and I make pancakes.
- Later in the day, he asks me why I haven't gone to Home Depot and used the coupon to buy a kitchen stool, as he suggested this morning.
- I have no idea what he's talking about because he never verbalized the jump from out-of-reach bowl to Home Depot kitchen stool.
Byrd also says he feels left out of conversations, and now I realize it's because when he's volunteering information, people are saying "that's nice" or "that's interesting" and moving on without realizing that he's really asking a question or making an important point somewhere in his mind.
Knowing this, I am going to make more of an effort to ask Byrd to explain his purpose whenever he issues one of his random observations.
So I guess today's conversation with the dog trainer was helpful with more than just the dog.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Can we "fix" him?
Dozer was born nuts.
Not the scary serial killer nuts a la Silence of the Lambs, but the harmless goofy nuts a la Benny and Joon.
Dozer is obsessive-compulsive and anxious. He loves his toy (usually a ball, sometimes a disc). He loves his house. When he has these things, he is the happiest dog alive.
But when he loses either of those things, he starts whining and pacing, and his brain basically shuts off. He is essentially nonresponsive to the environment. His response to training commands slows to a trickle.
It's not that he becomes out of control, because there's really nothing about him that needs controlling. He turns on a very whiny autopilot. He'll go on a walk, but he won't notice the squirrels dancing a jig in front of him or the stray cat peeing on his leg. He won't "sit" without a sharp push on the behind. He just sort of goes into a trance where I guess he might be imagining himself back at home.
This is one of the reasons why loose leash training has never been successful for him. He simply isn't "there." I use a no-pull harness to make walking easier. (I should add that I can definitely walk him on his regular collar if need be. He is so sad that even the pulling is rather wimpy.)
This has been the way of things with Dozer since his early years. He had all the advantages his "sister" Felanie did, including puppy socialization class, obedience classes, and agility classes. Both dogs lived under the same house rules and expectations. Felanie turned into a fine dog without any social anxiety or obsessive behavior.
At first, Dozer did fine, too, though there were some hints that Dozer was not quite normal, even during early years.
During his puppy socialization class, Dozer ignored the other dogs, favoring a tennis ball above all else. When the other puppies started to play-fight, Dozer stood between them (he was the biggest puppy there), chewing on his ball and whining. The instructor called Dozer "The Peacemaker" because it bothered Dozer so much to see other dogs fight, even in play; he would always try to stand in the middle in order to break it up.
When we took Dozer to a very reputable professional trainer because he was so obsessed about his toy ball, the trainer suggested that we put him in a room and dump dozens of tennis balls in there. The idea was to make the balls so common that Dozer would have no reason to worry about where they all were. We tried this idea. Let's just say that that was the happiest day of Dozer's life--and he's still obsessed with toy balls.
The older Dozer got, the less he enjoyed leaving the house. He still likes car rides--as long as they're short, and he can hang his head out the window (which means only in the immediate neighborhood, since I don't allow dog heads out the window over 35 mph).
My husband has panic attacks when he goes out in public. This has only recently been controlled with medication. Byrd feels a bit guilty about Dozer as a result. "I gave him this," he says, as if social anxiety is some sort of contagious disease.
So here's where I get stuck in my thoughts. Some people, like my husband, think that Dozer needs "help." We have a trainer coming over to meet Dozer this weekend, to see what can be done. But can training really "fix" an issue that seems, to me, to be the result of faulty wiring? I'm all for training when it can alter behavior. But I also realize there are some cases where genetics has had the last laugh (this is where responsible management, rather than training, comes in).
I wonder if Dozer's problems haven't been a bit too humanized at this point. Why, exactly, does Dozer really need to learn to enjoy being out in public? People have to overcome social anxiety in order to function and live normal lives. They must be able to go to work, to the grocery store, and so forth.
Dozer is a dog. He can stay home all day and play in the yard with his ball whenever he wants. And if he's perfectly happy doing that, why do people think that he needs "help," or that his anxiety is a "problem"?
I can understand why Byrd keeps pushing for us to "help" Dozer--because he feels guilty and partially responsible for Dozer being this way, and because he can really empathize with the anxiety Dozer feels in public. He sees Dozer as a furry version of himself, and because Byrd sought help and feels better as a result, he wants Dozer to get help as well.
But I don't see it the same. I see Dozer as a senior dog who just wants to enjoy life from the comfort of his home. As long as we don't force him to go anywhere (and it's not like we really need to), he's quite happy, loving, and healthy. And no, he's not overprotective of our house. He actually loves visitors to our house, no matter who they are, especially if they play fetch with him.
So can Dozer be "helped"? Or more to the point, does he really need to be "helped"? I am tempted to choose the negative response to both questions.
Not the scary serial killer nuts a la Silence of the Lambs, but the harmless goofy nuts a la Benny and Joon.
Dozer is obsessive-compulsive and anxious. He loves his toy (usually a ball, sometimes a disc). He loves his house. When he has these things, he is the happiest dog alive.
But when he loses either of those things, he starts whining and pacing, and his brain basically shuts off. He is essentially nonresponsive to the environment. His response to training commands slows to a trickle.
It's not that he becomes out of control, because there's really nothing about him that needs controlling. He turns on a very whiny autopilot. He'll go on a walk, but he won't notice the squirrels dancing a jig in front of him or the stray cat peeing on his leg. He won't "sit" without a sharp push on the behind. He just sort of goes into a trance where I guess he might be imagining himself back at home.
This is one of the reasons why loose leash training has never been successful for him. He simply isn't "there." I use a no-pull harness to make walking easier. (I should add that I can definitely walk him on his regular collar if need be. He is so sad that even the pulling is rather wimpy.)
This has been the way of things with Dozer since his early years. He had all the advantages his "sister" Felanie did, including puppy socialization class, obedience classes, and agility classes. Both dogs lived under the same house rules and expectations. Felanie turned into a fine dog without any social anxiety or obsessive behavior.
At first, Dozer did fine, too, though there were some hints that Dozer was not quite normal, even during early years.
During his puppy socialization class, Dozer ignored the other dogs, favoring a tennis ball above all else. When the other puppies started to play-fight, Dozer stood between them (he was the biggest puppy there), chewing on his ball and whining. The instructor called Dozer "The Peacemaker" because it bothered Dozer so much to see other dogs fight, even in play; he would always try to stand in the middle in order to break it up.
When we took Dozer to a very reputable professional trainer because he was so obsessed about his toy ball, the trainer suggested that we put him in a room and dump dozens of tennis balls in there. The idea was to make the balls so common that Dozer would have no reason to worry about where they all were. We tried this idea. Let's just say that that was the happiest day of Dozer's life--and he's still obsessed with toy balls.
The older Dozer got, the less he enjoyed leaving the house. He still likes car rides--as long as they're short, and he can hang his head out the window (which means only in the immediate neighborhood, since I don't allow dog heads out the window over 35 mph).
My husband has panic attacks when he goes out in public. This has only recently been controlled with medication. Byrd feels a bit guilty about Dozer as a result. "I gave him this," he says, as if social anxiety is some sort of contagious disease.
So here's where I get stuck in my thoughts. Some people, like my husband, think that Dozer needs "help." We have a trainer coming over to meet Dozer this weekend, to see what can be done. But can training really "fix" an issue that seems, to me, to be the result of faulty wiring? I'm all for training when it can alter behavior. But I also realize there are some cases where genetics has had the last laugh (this is where responsible management, rather than training, comes in).
I wonder if Dozer's problems haven't been a bit too humanized at this point. Why, exactly, does Dozer really need to learn to enjoy being out in public? People have to overcome social anxiety in order to function and live normal lives. They must be able to go to work, to the grocery store, and so forth.
Dozer is a dog. He can stay home all day and play in the yard with his ball whenever he wants. And if he's perfectly happy doing that, why do people think that he needs "help," or that his anxiety is a "problem"?
I can understand why Byrd keeps pushing for us to "help" Dozer--because he feels guilty and partially responsible for Dozer being this way, and because he can really empathize with the anxiety Dozer feels in public. He sees Dozer as a furry version of himself, and because Byrd sought help and feels better as a result, he wants Dozer to get help as well.
But I don't see it the same. I see Dozer as a senior dog who just wants to enjoy life from the comfort of his home. As long as we don't force him to go anywhere (and it's not like we really need to), he's quite happy, loving, and healthy. And no, he's not overprotective of our house. He actually loves visitors to our house, no matter who they are, especially if they play fetch with him.
So can Dozer be "helped"? Or more to the point, does he really need to be "helped"? I am tempted to choose the negative response to both questions.
Monday, March 02, 2009
Dogs dogs dogs
All the dog-related stuff swimming in my brain:
BSL everywhere. New Mexico drops their proposed pit bull ban. An Oregon senator promptly proposes a pit bull ban. Florida, Texas, and Hawaii are all still dealing with possible statewide BSL. I went away for the weekend on a relaxing trip and came back to find my inbox overflowing with necessary updates for the StopBSL website. I hate BSL. It ruins my free time and keeps me up at night, but I can't let it go, because I just can't tolerate such a massive injustice.
Star and Dozer did surprisingly well on our trip. Dozer hated it, needless to say, but he didn't destroy anything. Neither dog required crating. I actually used Star a couple of times to help catch one of the other resort visitors' little dog--it liked to run away from people but not from other dogs.
On Tuesday I'm going to go to a seminar on canine search and rescue, to find out whether Star might be at all suitable for SAR training. She loves to smell every little thing on our walks.
I just missed Intro to Agility classes at the Travis Agility Group. I will enroll Star in the next Intro class, whenever that starts up.
I got the city to agree to put up a bulletin board at the city dog park. I think it will be a good place for dog owners to share information. I especially want to put up info about free training classes, events, and legislation. I think it will be a bit easier than telling people or handing out flyers at the park, which is what I've been doing lately.
Both dogs are itching something awful. It doesn't seem to be fleas. Star has some dandruff; she might have dry skin. I have pretty dry skin too due to the dry winter, but unlike Star, I can slather lotion all over myself. I'll give Star a hydrocortisone shampoo and see if that helps her. Dozer has known seasonal allergies. Dozer will get his cortisone shot at his annual vet visit at the end of March. That should help him a lot. I would get him a shot earlier, but he isn't supposed to get the shot very frequently, and the worst time for him is usually late spring/early summer.
BSL everywhere. New Mexico drops their proposed pit bull ban. An Oregon senator promptly proposes a pit bull ban. Florida, Texas, and Hawaii are all still dealing with possible statewide BSL. I went away for the weekend on a relaxing trip and came back to find my inbox overflowing with necessary updates for the StopBSL website. I hate BSL. It ruins my free time and keeps me up at night, but I can't let it go, because I just can't tolerate such a massive injustice.
Star and Dozer did surprisingly well on our trip. Dozer hated it, needless to say, but he didn't destroy anything. Neither dog required crating. I actually used Star a couple of times to help catch one of the other resort visitors' little dog--it liked to run away from people but not from other dogs.
On Tuesday I'm going to go to a seminar on canine search and rescue, to find out whether Star might be at all suitable for SAR training. She loves to smell every little thing on our walks.
I just missed Intro to Agility classes at the Travis Agility Group. I will enroll Star in the next Intro class, whenever that starts up.
I got the city to agree to put up a bulletin board at the city dog park. I think it will be a good place for dog owners to share information. I especially want to put up info about free training classes, events, and legislation. I think it will be a bit easier than telling people or handing out flyers at the park, which is what I've been doing lately.
Both dogs are itching something awful. It doesn't seem to be fleas. Star has some dandruff; she might have dry skin. I have pretty dry skin too due to the dry winter, but unlike Star, I can slather lotion all over myself. I'll give Star a hydrocortisone shampoo and see if that helps her. Dozer has known seasonal allergies. Dozer will get his cortisone shot at his annual vet visit at the end of March. That should help him a lot. I would get him a shot earlier, but he isn't supposed to get the shot very frequently, and the worst time for him is usually late spring/early summer.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Eat This, Not That
Byrd is overweight and trying to shed pounds. I'm underweight and trying to gain.
I don't have high blood pressure or high cholesterol (yet), so I really don't watch what I eat. But Byrd does have high everything, and Byrd does have to watch his intake.
We're always having these major food issues as a result. Byrd designated me his "food police" to help him eat healthier. But he doesn't appreciate watching me practice the opposite of what I'm preaching. I stuff my face with whatever I feel like (even at my worst, I usually don't eat more than 1000 calories a day), while telling Byrd he can't have any.
Yet even after guiding Byrd toward healthier foods, packing his lunches, and cooking dinner five or six nights a week, neither one of us was having any success reaching our weight goals. I was burning all my calories preparing his meals (ha ha), and he was sneaking fast food during work because he was still hungry even after eating the lunches I made him (as I discovered when he got food poisoning last week, vomiting pickle slices, which raised my eyebrows since we do not have pickles in our house).
So I bought the book Eat This, Not That. And by reading it, I realized where I was going wrong. I recommend the book if you are a frustrated grocery shopper like me.
For instance, I keep buying the wrong wheat bread. I didn't realize that mistake until I read what the book described as a proper nutritious bread: high fiber, no sugar, serious grains. I buy a wheat bread that has barely any fiber in it and a lot of sugar. Mistake!
Similarly, in purchasing what I thought were healthy snack foods--granola bars, puffed rice cakes, Ritz crackers, and even yogurt--I was really buying foods with lots of sugar, trans fat, and/or saturated fat. I didn't bother to read the ingredients list or compare nutrition labels (I don't want to spend hours in the store, I want to grab and go). Dummy.
The nice thing about the book is that it has lots and lots of pictures. Pictures of things I should be buying, and pictures of things I shouldn't be buying. It makes for a quick and easy reference.
Byrd, who is close to illiterate and rarely touches books, really enjoyed looking at the pictures. This was great for me because I thought, hey, he will learn something from a neutral source rather than from his nagging know-it-all wife.
Well, okay, it was great... until he started recognizing things that I often buy. "Oh, look, that's our margarine spread under 'Eat This'," he commented, "but that spreadable butter you bought that one time is a 'Not That.' It is banished from this house!" (Insert dramatic arm wave here.)
I had to yank the book away from him before he saw which column my beloved Oreos fell into. He'll be banishing those delicious cookies over my dead body.
I don't have high blood pressure or high cholesterol (yet), so I really don't watch what I eat. But Byrd does have high everything, and Byrd does have to watch his intake.
We're always having these major food issues as a result. Byrd designated me his "food police" to help him eat healthier. But he doesn't appreciate watching me practice the opposite of what I'm preaching. I stuff my face with whatever I feel like (even at my worst, I usually don't eat more than 1000 calories a day), while telling Byrd he can't have any.
Yet even after guiding Byrd toward healthier foods, packing his lunches, and cooking dinner five or six nights a week, neither one of us was having any success reaching our weight goals. I was burning all my calories preparing his meals (ha ha), and he was sneaking fast food during work because he was still hungry even after eating the lunches I made him (as I discovered when he got food poisoning last week, vomiting pickle slices, which raised my eyebrows since we do not have pickles in our house).
So I bought the book Eat This, Not That. And by reading it, I realized where I was going wrong. I recommend the book if you are a frustrated grocery shopper like me.
For instance, I keep buying the wrong wheat bread. I didn't realize that mistake until I read what the book described as a proper nutritious bread: high fiber, no sugar, serious grains. I buy a wheat bread that has barely any fiber in it and a lot of sugar. Mistake!
Similarly, in purchasing what I thought were healthy snack foods--granola bars, puffed rice cakes, Ritz crackers, and even yogurt--I was really buying foods with lots of sugar, trans fat, and/or saturated fat. I didn't bother to read the ingredients list or compare nutrition labels (I don't want to spend hours in the store, I want to grab and go). Dummy.
The nice thing about the book is that it has lots and lots of pictures. Pictures of things I should be buying, and pictures of things I shouldn't be buying. It makes for a quick and easy reference.
Byrd, who is close to illiterate and rarely touches books, really enjoyed looking at the pictures. This was great for me because I thought, hey, he will learn something from a neutral source rather than from his nagging know-it-all wife.
Well, okay, it was great... until he started recognizing things that I often buy. "Oh, look, that's our margarine spread under 'Eat This'," he commented, "but that spreadable butter you bought that one time is a 'Not That.' It is banished from this house!" (Insert dramatic arm wave here.)
I had to yank the book away from him before he saw which column my beloved Oreos fell into. He'll be banishing those delicious cookies over my dead body.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Peanut butter
This is how we tell the difference between the "dog peanut butter" and the "human peanut butter" in our house.
God forbid the lids get swapped somehow.
God forbid the lids get swapped somehow.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
I don't get politicians
So Hawaii Senator Colleen Hanabusa, who wrote SB 79, which would ban "pit bulls" from Hawaii if it passes, is now quoted in EVERY recent news article saying she doesn't actually agree with the legislation she wrote. No, she wrote up this legislation "at the request of a consistuent."
Which basically leaves me thinking: wtf??
Seriously, if one of her constituents walked into her office and asked her to write up legislation banning Labrador Retrievers... would she do it? (Hey District 21 residents, I dare ya to try it and see what she says.)
I'm calling shenanigans on Senator Hanabusa. You better believe she thought it was a good idea, or she wouldn't have introduced it. But methinks the outcry has her wondering whether she'll survive re-election, so she's publicly backing off.
Which basically leaves me thinking: wtf??
Seriously, if one of her constituents walked into her office and asked her to write up legislation banning Labrador Retrievers... would she do it? (Hey District 21 residents, I dare ya to try it and see what she says.)
I'm calling shenanigans on Senator Hanabusa. You better believe she thought it was a good idea, or she wouldn't have introduced it. But methinks the outcry has her wondering whether she'll survive re-election, so she's publicly backing off.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
The Unicorn Story
Ever since I told my mom I was dabbling in fiction writing, she keeps saying "Oh, good! I always wanted you to finish that unicorn story!"
Huh wha?
Until I was maybe twelve, I was pretty sure I had an invisible pet unicorn hanging out with me. I was also the proud owner of the largest collection of unicorn figurines ever to grace the planet. I lived, ate, breathed, dreamed unicorns. My Christmas presents were all unicorn-themed. I had unicorn stationary, unicorn sheets, unicorn light switches, unicorn posters, unicorn books... I was so into unicorns that my poor sister, who preferred cats, nevertheless received various unicorn-related gifts from relatives who were blinded by my obsession.
But back to the unicorn story. I wasn't a big writer when I was a kid because I considered writing to be something you had to do as homework, not something you did for fun. Almost everything I wrote was for school, and was therefore technically accurate but not emotionally engaging.
So hearing Mom talk about this unicorn story was a big surprise. I don't remember writing it, I don't know what it was about, and I'm sure I must have been, like, six years old when I wrote it. I don't think there are any surviving copies.
I guess Mom still thinks of me as a little kid. :) I thought she was going to faint when I told her I'm going to be 30 this year.
Huh wha?
Until I was maybe twelve, I was pretty sure I had an invisible pet unicorn hanging out with me. I was also the proud owner of the largest collection of unicorn figurines ever to grace the planet. I lived, ate, breathed, dreamed unicorns. My Christmas presents were all unicorn-themed. I had unicorn stationary, unicorn sheets, unicorn light switches, unicorn posters, unicorn books... I was so into unicorns that my poor sister, who preferred cats, nevertheless received various unicorn-related gifts from relatives who were blinded by my obsession.
But back to the unicorn story. I wasn't a big writer when I was a kid because I considered writing to be something you had to do as homework, not something you did for fun. Almost everything I wrote was for school, and was therefore technically accurate but not emotionally engaging.
So hearing Mom talk about this unicorn story was a big surprise. I don't remember writing it, I don't know what it was about, and I'm sure I must have been, like, six years old when I wrote it. I don't think there are any surviving copies.
I guess Mom still thinks of me as a little kid. :) I thought she was going to faint when I told her I'm going to be 30 this year.
Monday, January 26, 2009
He said WHAT?
Byrd asked me today, "Do you want to have a baby?"
I was putting up things after dinner and this caught me totally off guard. This, from a man who insists he hates kids. I thought he was joking around.
I didn't answer. I asked him back, "Do you?" Still thinking he was joking. His usual response to my teasing suggestions about procreation is "HELL no."
This time he said, "Yeah, maybe."
I nearly choked.
Could it be that he's softening up a little, maybe feeling his age? Or is it the fact that I'm staying home, taking care of things, that makes him feel more comfortable with the image of a traditional family?
Not to worry, though. I won't be ready for kids for another five years, at least. I still have a lot I want to do before taking on that sort of responsibility. And then there are the dogs.
I was putting up things after dinner and this caught me totally off guard. This, from a man who insists he hates kids. I thought he was joking around.
I didn't answer. I asked him back, "Do you?" Still thinking he was joking. His usual response to my teasing suggestions about procreation is "HELL no."
This time he said, "Yeah, maybe."
I nearly choked.
Could it be that he's softening up a little, maybe feeling his age? Or is it the fact that I'm staying home, taking care of things, that makes him feel more comfortable with the image of a traditional family?
Not to worry, though. I won't be ready for kids for another five years, at least. I still have a lot I want to do before taking on that sort of responsibility. And then there are the dogs.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Morning Fun With Water Heater
You know it's going to be a weird morning when you let the dogs outside and hear this odd rushing sound in the wall by the kitchen sink while you're standing there waiting for the dogs to relieve themselves.
I knew it was water. It just didn't sound like the usual running water through the pipes to cater to the toilet that is constantly refilling itself in the master bathroom. No, this was much more... free and unrestrained.
The dogs got very excited when I started to run. I didn't know where I was running, but I knew this was a situation that required running. I grabbed the phone on my way past, because I felt I was going to need it. I ran outside in my nightrobe and looked under the addition (I was thinking exposed pipes plus freezing weather). Dry. I went back inside and peeked under the kitchen sink. Dry. I then ran up and down the hall trying to pinpoint the location of the noise.
Yes, it was a glorious romp for the dogs. I nearly killed myself tripping over Star, who has not yet learned the art of moving the hell out of the way.
Then I flung open the closet under the stairs, where we access the water heater. This was a mysterious and uncharted land for Star. She crammed herself into the closet with me. There was water pooling on the floor, and it was spraying on the walls like crazy from somewhere around the water heater.
Phone call to Byrd. "We have a major problem. I need you home right now. Water everywhere." No more explanation needed. Over the phone, Byrd walked me through the steps to shut off the water to the house while he sped home with the yellow light on top of his work truck flashing as if he were a cop (lol).
I went out to the front curb, still in my nightrobe, and found the shut-off valve by accident when my foot plunged into a two-foot hole concealed by weeds and leaves, like a miniature lion trap. The plastic cover was gone and the hole was mostly filled in with dirt. I had to dig out a foot of dirt before I could access the valve.
Byrd got home and assessed the situation. The culprit? A pinhole leak in one of the ancient copper pipes connected to the water heater. Byrd went to Home Depot, bought some fancy new flexible plasticky hoses, replaced the copper pipes with the new hoses, and headed back to work. I mopped up the water and pointed a portable heater inside the closet to encourage rapid drying.
Byrd said he was glad I was home when this happened. I think that was his way of pointing out that I'm worth a lot to the household even when I'm not actively working on a paying job.
I knew it was water. It just didn't sound like the usual running water through the pipes to cater to the toilet that is constantly refilling itself in the master bathroom. No, this was much more... free and unrestrained.
The dogs got very excited when I started to run. I didn't know where I was running, but I knew this was a situation that required running. I grabbed the phone on my way past, because I felt I was going to need it. I ran outside in my nightrobe and looked under the addition (I was thinking exposed pipes plus freezing weather). Dry. I went back inside and peeked under the kitchen sink. Dry. I then ran up and down the hall trying to pinpoint the location of the noise.
Yes, it was a glorious romp for the dogs. I nearly killed myself tripping over Star, who has not yet learned the art of moving the hell out of the way.
Then I flung open the closet under the stairs, where we access the water heater. This was a mysterious and uncharted land for Star. She crammed herself into the closet with me. There was water pooling on the floor, and it was spraying on the walls like crazy from somewhere around the water heater.
Phone call to Byrd. "We have a major problem. I need you home right now. Water everywhere." No more explanation needed. Over the phone, Byrd walked me through the steps to shut off the water to the house while he sped home with the yellow light on top of his work truck flashing as if he were a cop (lol).
I went out to the front curb, still in my nightrobe, and found the shut-off valve by accident when my foot plunged into a two-foot hole concealed by weeds and leaves, like a miniature lion trap. The plastic cover was gone and the hole was mostly filled in with dirt. I had to dig out a foot of dirt before I could access the valve.
Byrd got home and assessed the situation. The culprit? A pinhole leak in one of the ancient copper pipes connected to the water heater. Byrd went to Home Depot, bought some fancy new flexible plasticky hoses, replaced the copper pipes with the new hoses, and headed back to work. I mopped up the water and pointed a portable heater inside the closet to encourage rapid drying.
Byrd said he was glad I was home when this happened. I think that was his way of pointing out that I'm worth a lot to the household even when I'm not actively working on a paying job.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Spayed but not as stated
The shelter did not spay Star last Monday, though they claim they did.
There is a scar that appears to be from spaying. But it's a very old scar.
I took Star to the vet because, frankly, I didn't see any sutures and I thought I was going crazy. I wanted the vet to give me some answers. And the vet agrees, so I'm not crazy (about this, anyway)--my dog sure didn't get spayed a week ago.
I'm a little annoyed because the shelter literally went through the entire song-and-dance about spaying. They held my dog for three days in order to "spay" her. And when we picked her up, they showed us that "the sutures aren't inflamed, the incision site is very clean." (I took their word for it at the time; Star was wiggling all over like a crazed worm and I couldn't really see anything at all between her flailing legs.) And they warned us not to give her a bath, and keep her calm for several days.
What's worse, when we filled out the adoption paperwork, we felt sure she was already spayed. The guy helping us with the adoption forms said "Great, you can take her home today. That will free up space for more dogs!" Then he said "Oh, no, she hasn't been spayed, so you have to wait to take her home." The waiting was not a big deal--if they had actually spayed her. But they didn't. And what is implied by the guy's statement is that, because Star had to stay and take up a run for an additional three days, that meant some other dog got euth'd because there wasn't enough space.
Nice. Not that there's anything I can do about it now. I did gratefully give her a bath, though. She seemed happy to be clean and did a bunny hop across our lawn afterwards.
There is a scar that appears to be from spaying. But it's a very old scar.
I took Star to the vet because, frankly, I didn't see any sutures and I thought I was going crazy. I wanted the vet to give me some answers. And the vet agrees, so I'm not crazy (about this, anyway)--my dog sure didn't get spayed a week ago.
I'm a little annoyed because the shelter literally went through the entire song-and-dance about spaying. They held my dog for three days in order to "spay" her. And when we picked her up, they showed us that "the sutures aren't inflamed, the incision site is very clean." (I took their word for it at the time; Star was wiggling all over like a crazed worm and I couldn't really see anything at all between her flailing legs.) And they warned us not to give her a bath, and keep her calm for several days.
What's worse, when we filled out the adoption paperwork, we felt sure she was already spayed. The guy helping us with the adoption forms said "Great, you can take her home today. That will free up space for more dogs!" Then he said "Oh, no, she hasn't been spayed, so you have to wait to take her home." The waiting was not a big deal--if they had actually spayed her. But they didn't. And what is implied by the guy's statement is that, because Star had to stay and take up a run for an additional three days, that meant some other dog got euth'd because there wasn't enough space.
Nice. Not that there's anything I can do about it now. I did gratefully give her a bath, though. She seemed happy to be clean and did a bunny hop across our lawn afterwards.
Loose leash walking
Dozer and Fel were never "loose leash" walkers.
Fel, in fact, was such an incorrigible puller that one of our area's top trainers, confident only minutes before that he could stop her pulling immediately, muttered "She's a tough case, eh" as she yanked him along, oblivious to his various tactics. It was something of an understatement. He gave up on her before too long, and so did I; she wore a Gentle Leader head harness from then on, and that stopped the pulling, for the most part. Once she got old and sick, the walks got a lot easier.
Dozer is not a well-trained loose leash walker. He hates walking, so it's more of a cowed slink; the leash is loose because he doesn't want to go very fast. Show him something interesting, and he darts ahead. He also surges forward when a car passes, as if he's trying to keep up with it, or maybe hitch a ride back home without me.
Star may be the redeeming dog here. We have been relentlessly training loose leash walking since day 2 (I let her do what she wanted on day 1, just to see). For a while, I doubted my ability to train loose leash, considering my poor track record. Sure, I can teach a dog to put toys in a toy box and close cabinet doors, but walking? But Star is learning--fast. This is the serious "heel," too, not the "as long as you're somewhere nearby" type of loose leash. It's kind of neat.
I'm using the "circle" technique to train. Basically, as soon as the dog gets too far ahead, out of the range you specify, you turn around and walk the other way. The dog goes "what the?" and turns and follows, and you reward as soon as the dog reaches the "heel" position. Then you circle back around and continue on with your walk. The first several times, the reward is probably delivered as the dog runs past to pull ahead (at which point you turn around again), but after a while, the dog realizes the reward comes from staying beside the walker's leg. Furthermore, the circling around causes the dog to focus on the walker (to avoid collision at the very least).
Then it's just a matter of constant reward for the "heel" position, slowly delivering the treats at a less-frequent interval as the dog "gets it," and at a more frequent interval if a challenging/distracting situation arises, such as barking dogs or people walking by. There's no punishment involved, unless you consider it punishment to walk in circles (I sure do--I get dizzy after a while!).
Fel, in fact, was such an incorrigible puller that one of our area's top trainers, confident only minutes before that he could stop her pulling immediately, muttered "She's a tough case, eh" as she yanked him along, oblivious to his various tactics. It was something of an understatement. He gave up on her before too long, and so did I; she wore a Gentle Leader head harness from then on, and that stopped the pulling, for the most part. Once she got old and sick, the walks got a lot easier.
Dozer is not a well-trained loose leash walker. He hates walking, so it's more of a cowed slink; the leash is loose because he doesn't want to go very fast. Show him something interesting, and he darts ahead. He also surges forward when a car passes, as if he's trying to keep up with it, or maybe hitch a ride back home without me.
Star may be the redeeming dog here. We have been relentlessly training loose leash walking since day 2 (I let her do what she wanted on day 1, just to see). For a while, I doubted my ability to train loose leash, considering my poor track record. Sure, I can teach a dog to put toys in a toy box and close cabinet doors, but walking? But Star is learning--fast. This is the serious "heel," too, not the "as long as you're somewhere nearby" type of loose leash. It's kind of neat.
I'm using the "circle" technique to train. Basically, as soon as the dog gets too far ahead, out of the range you specify, you turn around and walk the other way. The dog goes "what the?" and turns and follows, and you reward as soon as the dog reaches the "heel" position. Then you circle back around and continue on with your walk. The first several times, the reward is probably delivered as the dog runs past to pull ahead (at which point you turn around again), but after a while, the dog realizes the reward comes from staying beside the walker's leg. Furthermore, the circling around causes the dog to focus on the walker (to avoid collision at the very least).
Then it's just a matter of constant reward for the "heel" position, slowly delivering the treats at a less-frequent interval as the dog "gets it," and at a more frequent interval if a challenging/distracting situation arises, such as barking dogs or people walking by. There's no punishment involved, unless you consider it punishment to walk in circles (I sure do--I get dizzy after a while!).
Monday, December 29, 2008
Adoption
We adopted a dog this weekend. She's approx. three years old, "buff" colored (greyish tan like a nice leather car interior), 40-50 lb. pit bull mix. Sweet, alert, good on a leash, intelligent and interested in learning, and seems friendly toward other dogs. The shelter called her Lula, but I'm going to call her Star.
She's getting spayed today, so she has to stay at the shelter until Tuesday. No pics yet, alas. The only one I have is a terrible photo obviously taken by the shelter immediately upon intake; she is cowering, and her eyes are big glowing yellow balls. Her photo is so bad that I didn't even consider her when I was doing a web search; I went to the shelter to look at a different dog and ended up checking her out as well.
I'm so excited, but also nervous. I have no idea how Dozer will do. The shelter did not require us to do a meet-and-greet, which was a huge relief. Instead, I am going to do the slowest possible intro--two weeks of crate and rotate--before bringing them together. Hopefully by then he will have accepted Star as a roommate (I think 'pal' is probably asking too much).
Now I've got to do some reading up. I haven't trained a green dog for years. Our comfy routine and our house rules are about to get all shaken up. The chaos will be similar to that created by a foster dog--but we're keeping this one, so I have to get my training cap on.
She's getting spayed today, so she has to stay at the shelter until Tuesday. No pics yet, alas. The only one I have is a terrible photo obviously taken by the shelter immediately upon intake; she is cowering, and her eyes are big glowing yellow balls. Her photo is so bad that I didn't even consider her when I was doing a web search; I went to the shelter to look at a different dog and ended up checking her out as well.
I'm so excited, but also nervous. I have no idea how Dozer will do. The shelter did not require us to do a meet-and-greet, which was a huge relief. Instead, I am going to do the slowest possible intro--two weeks of crate and rotate--before bringing them together. Hopefully by then he will have accepted Star as a roommate (I think 'pal' is probably asking too much).
Now I've got to do some reading up. I haven't trained a green dog for years. Our comfy routine and our house rules are about to get all shaken up. The chaos will be similar to that created by a foster dog--but we're keeping this one, so I have to get my training cap on.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Sure, make this adoption a little more difficult
We've been trying to find a suitable dog to fill the hole left by Felanie. I have been taking my time, and I've had very high expectations: small adult female pit bull-type that is social and dog-friendly. That in itself narrows my options considerably.
And yet, no one seems particularly eager to rehome their adoptable dogs. To date, not a single local rescue group has bothered to respond to my general inquiries about adoption. I can't even seem to get in touch with them when I want to meet a dog they have posted on Petfinder. So I guess rescue groups are out.
That leaves shelters. And out of the six shelters in our area, two require meet-and-greets, which are guaranteed to go badly because of Dozer. No exceptions—I asked. So those are out. Three others do not require meet-and-greets, but refuse to do home visits (which might actually work for Dozer). If I adopt from any of these three, then, I'm going to have to make an on-the-spot decision.
Only one shelter does home visits. Not only that, but they allow overnights / trial runs! Perfect, right? Sure, if they had a dog there that met my criteria... but they don't.
Meanwhile, my visit to one shelter (one that recommends but does not require a meet-and-greet) netted a very promising dog that seemed to fit my criteria fairly well. I asked about the adoption process. When I explained my situation (meet-and-greet will not be a good idea) the lady helping me proceeded to advise me to look elsewhere for a shelter that would do a home visit! Yes, she was encouraging me to go away.
I ventured to suggest a trial period. The lady stared at me as if I had just fallen out of the ceiling. Then she said, "No. Once you adopt, the dog is yours permanently. You really should do a meet-and-greet. Just today we had several animals returned because they aren't getting along with the other critters in the house."
Okay, I just explained why a meet-and-greet won't work. But wait a sec. You won't do a trial period or an overnight. But it's okay for people to return the animals they adopt. Isn't that sort of the same thing? And wouldn't a trial prevent those much-lamented returns? At the very least, a trial run means one dog not sitting in a kennel going nuts, one dog not "taking up space," one dog weasling its way into a prospective adopter's heart.
I am utterly stumped. As much as I hate making a psuedo-commitment, the shelter system here has put me against a wall. How the heck am I supposed to adopt a suitable dog when nobody shows the least bit of interest in working with me (the exception being the lone shelter that allows overnights, but has no dogs that show potential)?
While our shelters refuse to help potential adopters (or treat them like loonies, which is something I keep running into whenever I ask a real question), and cling to their either-or philosophy ("either you take it home for keeps or you don't take it home at all"), all these dogs are being put to sleep.
I don't know why this is so difficult. Grr.
And yet, no one seems particularly eager to rehome their adoptable dogs. To date, not a single local rescue group has bothered to respond to my general inquiries about adoption. I can't even seem to get in touch with them when I want to meet a dog they have posted on Petfinder. So I guess rescue groups are out.
That leaves shelters. And out of the six shelters in our area, two require meet-and-greets, which are guaranteed to go badly because of Dozer. No exceptions—I asked. So those are out. Three others do not require meet-and-greets, but refuse to do home visits (which might actually work for Dozer). If I adopt from any of these three, then, I'm going to have to make an on-the-spot decision.
Only one shelter does home visits. Not only that, but they allow overnights / trial runs! Perfect, right? Sure, if they had a dog there that met my criteria... but they don't.
Meanwhile, my visit to one shelter (one that recommends but does not require a meet-and-greet) netted a very promising dog that seemed to fit my criteria fairly well. I asked about the adoption process. When I explained my situation (meet-and-greet will not be a good idea) the lady helping me proceeded to advise me to look elsewhere for a shelter that would do a home visit! Yes, she was encouraging me to go away.
I ventured to suggest a trial period. The lady stared at me as if I had just fallen out of the ceiling. Then she said, "No. Once you adopt, the dog is yours permanently. You really should do a meet-and-greet. Just today we had several animals returned because they aren't getting along with the other critters in the house."
Okay, I just explained why a meet-and-greet won't work. But wait a sec. You won't do a trial period or an overnight. But it's okay for people to return the animals they adopt. Isn't that sort of the same thing? And wouldn't a trial prevent those much-lamented returns? At the very least, a trial run means one dog not sitting in a kennel going nuts, one dog not "taking up space," one dog weasling its way into a prospective adopter's heart.
I am utterly stumped. As much as I hate making a psuedo-commitment, the shelter system here has put me against a wall. How the heck am I supposed to adopt a suitable dog when nobody shows the least bit of interest in working with me (the exception being the lone shelter that allows overnights, but has no dogs that show potential)?
While our shelters refuse to help potential adopters (or treat them like loonies, which is something I keep running into whenever I ask a real question), and cling to their either-or philosophy ("either you take it home for keeps or you don't take it home at all"), all these dogs are being put to sleep.
I don't know why this is so difficult. Grr.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
A great Christmas gift
Sports Illustrated is finally making up for their 1987 sensational, stereotypical, fearmongering cover and article about pit bulls:
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2008/magazine/12/22/vick.dogs/
1987 SI cover: The article inside was similarly ridiculous.
2008 SI cover: The article inside is thoughtful and much less sensational.
The 2008 article even references the ghastly 1987 SI issue. The reference is both apologetic ("oops, we might have contributed to a problem") and exculpatory ("but the article inside was not so bad"). Yes, SI, back in 1987 you did contribute to a serious problem--and yes, the article inside was that bad.
But thank you for this positive coverage. I hope it undoes some of the damage you did to the pit bull's image twenty years ago.
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2008/magazine/12/22/vick.dogs/
1987 SI cover: The article inside was similarly ridiculous.
2008 SI cover: The article inside is thoughtful and much less sensational.The 2008 article even references the ghastly 1987 SI issue. The reference is both apologetic ("oops, we might have contributed to a problem") and exculpatory ("but the article inside was not so bad"). Yes, SI, back in 1987 you did contribute to a serious problem--and yes, the article inside was that bad.
But thank you for this positive coverage. I hope it undoes some of the damage you did to the pit bull's image twenty years ago.
Almost... there...
Come on, Christmas. I'm ready. The house is clean (kinda). The gifts are wrapped (well, halfway). The menu is done (the cooking is not). The tree is decorated (only took a week to get around to it).
Yes. I'm ready.
Dozer seems more ready than me. He is deeply disturbed by the presence of the tree. It's a bit larger than usual, true, and it does loom ominously as a result. Bigger is not always better. Next year I'm going to pick something a tad more suitable. (But it didn't look nearly as large on the lot, I swear!)
Dozer also participates in the bizarre gift-wrapping ritual that my husband and I go through every year. I say it's bizarre because we always pile the unwrapped gifts under the tree, then wrap them at the last minute. Because we have family members at our house constantly, the unwrapped gifts are a source of stress--what if Mom comes over and sees her amazing gift sitting there? The surprise is ruined! Quick, throw a sheet over it in a way that doesn't look totally suspicious. I don't know why we don't wrap as we buy. It would make life a lot less ridiculous.
Anyway, that's beside the point. Dozer, for some weird reason, likes to "help" with the gift-wrapping, which takes place on our living room floor. I bring down the paper, scissors, and tape from my office, settle onto the floor, and almost immediately find myself the target of a huge, excited white dog. He sits on me. He puts his head on my leg. His lips caress each gift--each mysterious box, each paper or plastic bag, each price tag I yank off. I pick up the scissors, and Dozer shoves his wet nose between the blades--sniff sniff sniff. I have to reach over his bulk to spread out the wrapping paper.
What on earth is this dog's problem? He's always directly between me and the gift. And if I dare to look at him or talk to him ("Dozer, move your fat head"), he starts licking my face uncontrollably.
I suppose he thinks some or all of these gifts are for him. Or perhaps it's my mistake for letting him "help" by tearing apart some of the unnecessary cardboard boxes. It actually was helpful (we must flatten for recycling), but now I have to rein in his new desire to rip apart ALL the boxes and packages.
To Dozer's credit, he has been very good about it all. This is his first year being left unsupervised and uncrated around the Christmas decorations and gifts. I expected at least one chewed candy cane or one torn gift, but the only thing he's done so far is discover his own Christmas gift. That was my mistake, as I left it on the floor in a Petco bag. Amazingly, he pulled his gift out of the bag but did not touch the cat toys or the dog toys that I had bought for friend and family pets. I guess we really know Dozer well, since he self-selected the gift intended for him.
Unfortunately, I hadn't taken the packaging off the toy yet. Fortunately, Dozer apparently realized it was not in a condition to be played with; he abandoned it on the dining room floor and we found it easily when we got home--it was still in perfect condition. Byrd stuck it in Dozer's stocking.
Oh yes. The stocking. It's a little depressing: it says "DOGS." Depressing for me, I guess. Dozer could care less. There's no way he remembers Fel after all this time.
Yes. I'm ready.
Dozer seems more ready than me. He is deeply disturbed by the presence of the tree. It's a bit larger than usual, true, and it does loom ominously as a result. Bigger is not always better. Next year I'm going to pick something a tad more suitable. (But it didn't look nearly as large on the lot, I swear!)
Dozer also participates in the bizarre gift-wrapping ritual that my husband and I go through every year. I say it's bizarre because we always pile the unwrapped gifts under the tree, then wrap them at the last minute. Because we have family members at our house constantly, the unwrapped gifts are a source of stress--what if Mom comes over and sees her amazing gift sitting there? The surprise is ruined! Quick, throw a sheet over it in a way that doesn't look totally suspicious. I don't know why we don't wrap as we buy. It would make life a lot less ridiculous.
Anyway, that's beside the point. Dozer, for some weird reason, likes to "help" with the gift-wrapping, which takes place on our living room floor. I bring down the paper, scissors, and tape from my office, settle onto the floor, and almost immediately find myself the target of a huge, excited white dog. He sits on me. He puts his head on my leg. His lips caress each gift--each mysterious box, each paper or plastic bag, each price tag I yank off. I pick up the scissors, and Dozer shoves his wet nose between the blades--sniff sniff sniff. I have to reach over his bulk to spread out the wrapping paper.
What on earth is this dog's problem? He's always directly between me and the gift. And if I dare to look at him or talk to him ("Dozer, move your fat head"), he starts licking my face uncontrollably.
I suppose he thinks some or all of these gifts are for him. Or perhaps it's my mistake for letting him "help" by tearing apart some of the unnecessary cardboard boxes. It actually was helpful (we must flatten for recycling), but now I have to rein in his new desire to rip apart ALL the boxes and packages.
To Dozer's credit, he has been very good about it all. This is his first year being left unsupervised and uncrated around the Christmas decorations and gifts. I expected at least one chewed candy cane or one torn gift, but the only thing he's done so far is discover his own Christmas gift. That was my mistake, as I left it on the floor in a Petco bag. Amazingly, he pulled his gift out of the bag but did not touch the cat toys or the dog toys that I had bought for friend and family pets. I guess we really know Dozer well, since he self-selected the gift intended for him.
Unfortunately, I hadn't taken the packaging off the toy yet. Fortunately, Dozer apparently realized it was not in a condition to be played with; he abandoned it on the dining room floor and we found it easily when we got home--it was still in perfect condition. Byrd stuck it in Dozer's stocking.
Oh yes. The stocking. It's a little depressing: it says "DOGS." Depressing for me, I guess. Dozer could care less. There's no way he remembers Fel after all this time.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
And the "meet and greet"...
...bombed. I was hoping it wouldn't, but I had doubts... doubts that proved to be right.
Dozer made his growly "I don't like you" display and the other dog said "You want some? Here's some!"
I have no problem with Dozer's behavior and I'm sure Dozer would have been quite good if this had been a home visit (shelter wouldn't do a home visit). On the other hand, this did give me an opportunity to assess the other dog's level of dog friendliness, and unfortunately she didn't meet my rather high (too high?) standards. She would still be a great dog for someone who just wanted a cuddlebug.
I think the shelter was annoyed with me for being the catalyst that resulted in a "best as only dog in household" note on the dog's file.
Back to the drawing board.
I have no idea how to choose a dog. They usually just show up at my house.
Dozer made his growly "I don't like you" display and the other dog said "You want some? Here's some!"
I have no problem with Dozer's behavior and I'm sure Dozer would have been quite good if this had been a home visit (shelter wouldn't do a home visit). On the other hand, this did give me an opportunity to assess the other dog's level of dog friendliness, and unfortunately she didn't meet my rather high (too high?) standards. She would still be a great dog for someone who just wanted a cuddlebug.
I think the shelter was annoyed with me for being the catalyst that resulted in a "best as only dog in household" note on the dog's file.
Back to the drawing board.
I have no idea how to choose a dog. They usually just show up at my house.
Well, the house LOOKS clean, anyway...
Sitting here eating cheese, crackers, and apples--my favorite lunch--and willing my sore throat to go away. No, I refuse to get sick over the holidays! I've been hit by at least three mysterious sore throats (plus assorted random symptoms that manifest into a knockout illness) over the last year. The doctor has no idea what the problem is. I think he's tested for everything. I'm starting to wonder if it's allergies. (Welcome to Austin, allergy capitol of the world.)
I hired a maid service to clean my house today. Could I have done the cleaning myself? Yes. Do I have time? No. Let's put it this way. It took two experienced cleaning women almost two hours to clean my house. And that's not including laundry, dishes, and picking up, which I have been doing sporadically over the past three days. It also excludes my darling husband's office, which he refused to pick up at all (probably because he knows it is beyond hope). Now the maids are gone, my house looks sparkly (sans hubby's office), and I still have four or five loads of laundry to cycle. And Christmas decorations to put up. And so much more that I am not even going to mention.
Dozer was quite polite while the maids were here. He stuck with me, per my request (read: command), and we stayed out of the way. Unfortunately, he is incredibly farty today, so our house smells a lot less clean than it should. In fact, for a short while I had him closed in the bedroom, and when I went in there to let him out, I had to turn on the ceiling fan. It was terrible! I don't even want to know what the maids thought... how embarrassing.
Today I'm taking Dozer to the animal shelter to meet a potential housemate. He's going to hate it. And it will be worse since his stomach is apparently upset--he will be awful, I know it. But at least I will find out how the other dog feels when confronted by a sick, anxious, grumpy, anti-social selfish jerk dog.
I hired a maid service to clean my house today. Could I have done the cleaning myself? Yes. Do I have time? No. Let's put it this way. It took two experienced cleaning women almost two hours to clean my house. And that's not including laundry, dishes, and picking up, which I have been doing sporadically over the past three days. It also excludes my darling husband's office, which he refused to pick up at all (probably because he knows it is beyond hope). Now the maids are gone, my house looks sparkly (sans hubby's office), and I still have four or five loads of laundry to cycle. And Christmas decorations to put up. And so much more that I am not even going to mention.
Dozer was quite polite while the maids were here. He stuck with me, per my request (read: command), and we stayed out of the way. Unfortunately, he is incredibly farty today, so our house smells a lot less clean than it should. In fact, for a short while I had him closed in the bedroom, and when I went in there to let him out, I had to turn on the ceiling fan. It was terrible! I don't even want to know what the maids thought... how embarrassing.
Today I'm taking Dozer to the animal shelter to meet a potential housemate. He's going to hate it. And it will be worse since his stomach is apparently upset--he will be awful, I know it. But at least I will find out how the other dog feels when confronted by a sick, anxious, grumpy, anti-social selfish jerk dog.
Friday, December 05, 2008
So I thought the end of November would bring me a little downtime. Instead I got an unexpected call from an old boss, and to make a long story short, I am now working on two rush copyediting jobs at once. Which is great, because I love copyediting, and more than that, I love getting paid tons of money to copyedit.
But it means no downtime. Except weekends, which I am going to fight to keep free. Not that I'll be doing any relaxing on the weekends, since I've got Christmas shopping and cards and housework and all that jazz to deal with.
Dozer has become both frisky and pesky over the last few days. I'm sure part of it is boredom, and part is the colder weather blowing in. The other night when I was copyediting past 3 am, he began to get increasingly impatient with me. He acts as my "bodyguard" around the house, following me everywhere--it's what he considers his "job"--and I guess he figured it was very late, and he was tired, and he wanted to clock out and get some sleep, and I was being unreasonable by staying up so ridiculously late.
So he started whining: a quiet, yet shrill, continuous gasping sound. I tried to silence him by letting him outside to potty. I gave him a treat. I stared him down. I told him "no," whereupon we had a conversation that went like this:
"no"
whine
"no"
whine
"no!"
whiiine
"NO!"
whiiiiiiiiiine
"ARGH! SHUT UP!"
silence....
silence....
whine
Byrd got home from his job at about 3:30 am, and at my request (Dozer was now whining with every breath out), he took Dozer to bed with him. Dozer did not go willingly, but I think he finally realized I was not ready for bed, and there was nothing he could do about it.
But it means no downtime. Except weekends, which I am going to fight to keep free. Not that I'll be doing any relaxing on the weekends, since I've got Christmas shopping and cards and housework and all that jazz to deal with.
Dozer has become both frisky and pesky over the last few days. I'm sure part of it is boredom, and part is the colder weather blowing in. The other night when I was copyediting past 3 am, he began to get increasingly impatient with me. He acts as my "bodyguard" around the house, following me everywhere--it's what he considers his "job"--and I guess he figured it was very late, and he was tired, and he wanted to clock out and get some sleep, and I was being unreasonable by staying up so ridiculously late.
So he started whining: a quiet, yet shrill, continuous gasping sound. I tried to silence him by letting him outside to potty. I gave him a treat. I stared him down. I told him "no," whereupon we had a conversation that went like this:
"no"
whine
"no"
whine
"no!"
whiiine
"NO!"
whiiiiiiiiiine
"ARGH! SHUT UP!"
silence....
silence....
whine
Byrd got home from his job at about 3:30 am, and at my request (Dozer was now whining with every breath out), he took Dozer to bed with him. Dozer did not go willingly, but I think he finally realized I was not ready for bed, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Monday, December 01, 2008
Back to normal, whatever that is
Titan got adopted today, and we're hoping it will stick. I think it will; the family has an extensive dog-owning history and experience with cattle dogs as well.
So with Titan's departure, I'm looking forward to cleanup. I can un-puppy-proof the house: pull down the dog toy box and the giant tiger toy (the giant lion toy succumbed to its injuries shortly after Titan discovered the stuffing inside), put away the dog crate and the extra metal bowls, wash the dog blankets and beds, vacuum, and file away Titan's adoption paperwork--or just dump it on the floor in my "to file" pile. Dozer won't care.
The timing is perfect, since it looks like I have a steady job for a while. The textbook company I'm freelancing for has started churning out chapters for me to copyedit. Yay! Work!
I'm toying with the idea of redesigning a website for a local pit bull rescue as my big donation for the holidays. They badly need a new site--their current one is outdated and unpleasant to navigate--I'm just not sure how to tactfully approach them, especially since it looks like someone took a personal interest in creating the current site, investing a lot of themselves into it. What should I say? "Wow, okay, I know you meant well when you designed this, but the purpose of your site isn't very clear. Are you trying to rescue dogs, or induce migraines?" Gah. :/
So with Titan's departure, I'm looking forward to cleanup. I can un-puppy-proof the house: pull down the dog toy box and the giant tiger toy (the giant lion toy succumbed to its injuries shortly after Titan discovered the stuffing inside), put away the dog crate and the extra metal bowls, wash the dog blankets and beds, vacuum, and file away Titan's adoption paperwork--or just dump it on the floor in my "to file" pile. Dozer won't care.
The timing is perfect, since it looks like I have a steady job for a while. The textbook company I'm freelancing for has started churning out chapters for me to copyedit. Yay! Work!
I'm toying with the idea of redesigning a website for a local pit bull rescue as my big donation for the holidays. They badly need a new site--their current one is outdated and unpleasant to navigate--I'm just not sure how to tactfully approach them, especially since it looks like someone took a personal interest in creating the current site, investing a lot of themselves into it. What should I say? "Wow, okay, I know you meant well when you designed this, but the purpose of your site isn't very clear. Are you trying to rescue dogs, or induce migraines?" Gah. :/
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