#448
Sinking
Would I were a poet
Instead of just a hack;
I'd fill the world with wondrous stuff,
And ducks that poop and quack.
Behavior Modification: Chapter XXX
Side bar: one terminally cute, destructive, little red dachshund--Schuster. Mary is home; now we can trap him between us again, though he may actually have figured out that it isn't curtains for him if we pick him up. Besides, he loves to eat and that helps us secure him too.
What delights me no end though is the way he lies down. Standing in front of me when I am sitting in my chair, eating, he keeps his very short little legs straight and simply collapses backwards onto the floor. He was up; now he is down, and he does not lose eye contact should the person before him decide to charge.
When I collapse onto the floor someone calls for an ambulance.
Behavior Modification: Chapter XXIX
It is difficult to write anything when you have, as they say, an embarrassment of riches from which to choose. Schuster, for example, should have been called Havoc, given that that is the way he leaves the house and what he makes me want to do: "Cry Havoc!". Mary is/was in Texas; I am/was on my own with 4 dogs (well, 6 counting Schuster), Pinkie the cat, Dusty the outside cat, and Possibly the possum (Possibly the outside possum).
My body does not work well at all anymore. I cannot catch the little beast. I cannot crate him at night. He mocks me daily. He pees on the floor beside the pad instead of on the pad--well, half the time; thus the mockery. He figured out how to get into the blocked-off upstairs carpeted rooms by crawling under the sofa by the door. At first I thought he jumped over the barrier. Who knew he could get that close to the ground though and wiggle through. Inside the room, he tore up a series of decorative lamp shades, some odd colorful costume material (not mine), a collector's outfitted teddy bear (also not mine), and he pooped on the floor. He POOPED on the floor!
The last I saw he was outside on the deck wrestling with Simon. Simon on the inside attacks only pillows and he does that right in front of us. Well, that is not quite true. I was remembering Frollie's and Dexter's food bowls which he also attacks, as I have explained before.
In any case I am exhausted.
However, now it is time to feed everyone, all "6" dogs, Pinkie the cat, Dusty the outside cat, and possibly, Possibly the outside possum.
Grubb Street Writers Inc.
#447
Ah, Well
While I'm not a poet
With any kind of skill,
I can, sometimes, turn a small verse
To make it do my will,
Like sun rays streaming through dark clouds
To light that distant hill.
Behavior Modification: Chapter XXVIII
Schuster, as of last Wednesday (I think), underwent the operation. Schuster now has low T. It has not, however, slowed him down any. Not even from the start. He still calls Dexter "Uncle Dexter," and Uncle Dexter usually tolerates that as just one more of those things in life that he has no control over. Schuster, ignoring the rejection, climbs up on the love seat (a nice irony there), gets as close to Dexter as he can, and goes to sleep. Precious.
Behavior Modification: Chapter XXVII
Simon: he sits with me for only the first half of the evening; he sleeps alone overnight on the sofa under pillows and blankets; he mostly determines how long walks last and where we will go. However, when Mary is vacuuming the house and the sweeper roars, he comes to my chair at the table and begs to be picked up and held tightly, and I am happy to oblige.
The Versifier Reverses...
#446
Time
It slips around a corner
Like rabbits on the run
Chased by zealous dachshunds
Out to have some fun.
You hardly know direction's changed
Until you hit the wall
And find yourself with aches and pains
And bruises from the Fall.
Behavior Modification: Chapter XXVI
Schuster is adapting to the household, though he still prefers the company of other dogs, especially Dexter, to people. All things considered, that is probably sound.
We have to crate Schuster "overnight," as the meteorologists say, since he is very quick and quite destructive. Everything on the floor is at risk: magazines, books, electrical cords, etc. He hits a room like a cyclone, with equal destructive power, if we do not watch him. We have the "crate" in the bedroom now next to Dexter's bed, which seems to keep Schuster quiet, at least. When we had the crate in the kitchen he howled and carried on something fierce. He sounded like a caged demon, not that I really know how caged demons sound. But it was fierce. So, he won; mostly. Five of us are in the bedroom (three dogs and two people), the cat is in the laundry room (our choice), and the Little Master, Simon, chooses to sleep on the sofa, under covers and pillows, in the living room by himself.
Behavior Modification: Chapter XXV
Retirement means having time not to do those things that I do not want to do, and feeling good about not doing them.
Frollie has "turned on" Schuster to the joys of watching TV. Last night NBC news was doing a report on the love lives of bull elks (the creatures were big and brown and wearing antlers) in a national park about to be closed. Frollie heard their loud, odd mating calls, turned to the TV and barked at them. Schuster followed Frollie, saw and heard the creatures, and went wild. He barked, he jumped at the screen, which is fortunately out of his reach, he barked some more to our amusement. If we weren't technologically challenged, we would have a video of his behavior, for he not only charged the TV, but when the report was finished and the animals disappeared, he quickly went behind the TV looking to see where they had gone.
Behavior Modification XXIV
Real behavior modification: Mary bought a red, long-haired dachshund, whom we (I) have named Schuster, or Schuey (Shoey). We found the seller in the Cracker Barrel parking lot. There it is, a new addition to the Little Master's household. He is not troubled, for now we are Simon and Schuster, the red and the black.
In fact, the only troubled (I watch "Haven" on Friday nights) creature in our house is Frollie who growls at Schuster every time he passes by. And then there is Schuster who came into the house troubled. He is eight months old and apparently has known only his litter mates up until we bought him and, according to our vet, created a separation anxiety. The little guy won't let us pick him up. He's okay when he's in our arms (all nine and a half pounds of him), but before that happens he runs. He'll come close but he doesn't want anything to do with being picked up. He'll sleep between us on the bed, but before we can hold him, we have to catch him. I can scarcely walk on my own let alone catch a small (did I say nine pounds and a half?) red streak flashing by my feet. "Schuey, oops, damn! Missed him again!") I tried getting down on the floor to see if I could entice him to come with a tidbit. He grabbed the tidbit and ran. I think I heard him giggle. Then, of course, I spent the next half hour trying to get up off the floor.
At this juncture, Schuster is the canine version of those people who think everything going on around them is about them. Walk into the room where he is lying down and off he goes, even if you just want to sit down too. Go to the kitchen for a drink of Ocean Spray Cran-Grape and he dashes into the bedroom. In fact if someone just looks at him, he runs. And so on. (And no, Ocean Spray is not paying me.)
The oddity is that he has, of course, bonded with the most neurotic dog in the house, Dexter the Beagle. It occurs to me that Dexter will just reinforce Schuey's neurotic tendencies. Dexter is afraid of almost any man who comes to the house, as well of many other things. It took him two years to get over his fear of me. Fortunately he did get over it, perhaps because I am the person who feeds him Alpo every day. Dexter's response to Schuey is mostly toleration. Schuey thinks Dexter's food bowl is also his, apparently, for when Dexter gets his bowl of food, Schuey rushes in and sticks his nose in the bowl too, though of course we don't let him do that. Dexter, the gentle giant, just backs away as if that's simply the way the universe works: the little dog eats the big dog's food. Frollie would have snapped his ear off, and I am not sure what Simon would do since his food never lasts long enough for anyone to find out, but Simon isn't food aggressive.
Interestingly, Simon was asleep on the sofa two nights ago when Schuey, who was up there with Mary, crawled over and fell asleep stretched out next to him, the black and the red, Simon and Schuster, too cute. Apparently Simon hadn't known that Schuey was asleep next to him for most of the evening, for suddenly he woke up, saw Schuster beside him and jumped down to the floor as quickly as he could move, which isn't all that quickly anymore. I keep cutting back on his food, but he is still a slightly tubby little dachshund, and maybe Simon is just a tad troubled by the new addition, though he doesn't growl at him.
Done but not Done...
#445
Undone
For those with a religious bent,
Life on earth seems Heaven sent.
Suffering has a central place
For this fallen Human race.
While Redemption is a given,
That for which Our Lord has striven
On a cruel and rough-hewn cross,
Turning into gain a loss.
Life on earth may not be Hell;
Instead it's Purgatorial
For all those with a Christian bent,
Thus to see the life that's lent.
Behavior Modification: Chapter XXIII
Tuesday, 8/17/2013. Simon! At home the little rascal wanted desperately to go along, barking and carrying on with the other two dogs, but when we got to the trail, he wouldn’t walk. First, he would not cross the street to get to the trail. He would not go right to go up the hill toward town. He would not go left to take the park trail around the BMU building. Then he heard Dexter baying off in the distance where the others were.
So we crossed the road and started down the Memorial trail, for a bit, presumably to find Dexter who had quit baying. Suddenly Simon seemed to realize where he was and that he had determined not to go there. He stopped and gave me the look. I tugged. He froze. We turned around and went back to the parking lot. This time he would not turn right to go up the hill as he usually does. Instead, he started across the parking lot. I thought he was going to the car and wanted to go home. By this time I was ready to oblige.
However, he walked past the car, kept on going across the parking lot, through the grass, across the black-topped trail, and up to the tree and shrub line. From there we followed the shrub line right, along the creek and around the bend to the bridge. At the bridge I got him to cross the road and follow the creek and tree line on the other side of the road around the wide grassy field.
A woman with two dogs in the field got his attention. He was willing to turn right to walk toward the swiftly disappearing woman with dogs. He issued a few perfunctory barks, went back to the tree line and moved toward the street. I thought I had it made. We will get to the sidewalk, go up the hill, and we will get to go home. I should have known. He’s a dachshund with his own agenda.
When we got close to the sidewalk, he started to romp, through the grassy field, here and there, nose to the ground, snuffling into holes, sending up bugs and seeds, having a marvelous time. I was like the foot of a compass; he was the pencil that made the circle. I tried to move him to the sidewalk to no avail. He was determined to romp. I began to worry, for if Mary did not come with the car, I had no idea how to get him to move toward home, and we had been walking and romping now for a good 45 minutes.
But Craig went up the hill in his truck with his dogs; I yelled at him to call Mary and tell her to come get us. He did, she did. She was still in the parking lot on the east side of the building, talking to two dachshunds, fortunately. I was in the grassy field on the west side of the building talking at one dachshund. She saw us, I waved, she waved. She sent Frollie racing down the walk to us. Simon saw Frollie coming, sat down in the grass and was at least interested. When Frollie (such a Sweetie) reached us, Simon decided he could follow her down the long trail to the car. We did.
I have no idea what provoked such behavior. The heat and humidity were bad again, and I know he does not handle those conditions well. There were other dogs on the walk which sometimes he is okay with, sometimes not. I thought perhaps his feet were sore, but he did not limp and two days earlier, we walked a mile and a half on city sidewalks without any trouble. This time we managed to do a good mile, according to my pedometer, just romping in the doggone field, so to speak.
The next time we will start from the house and, as Yoda might say, we either do or not do. No more parking lot follies.
Watching the Window Feeder...
#444
Air Raid
He rode into the feeder
On a wave of summer air,
The chickadee, the surfer,
A bird without compare.
He landed with a subtle grace,
Picked a seed and flew
Back into the summer sea,
With avian derring-do.
Simon on the Rocks...
#443
Get Along, Little Doggie
He climbs the rocks around the pond,
Agile as a mountain goat;
If he should slip and tumble in,
No one is certain he can float:
Simon.
Behavior Modification: Chapter XXII
At 2 in the morning, Simon, walking in the kitchen for a drink from the water bowl, looked out the glass back door, saw his reflection looking back from the overnight, and barked ferociously, loudly, whereupon chaos ensued.
I turned off the bright inside light whereupon the outside dachshund disappeared and peace was restored. Blessed are the peace-makers, I hope.
Growing in our front yard...
#442
Oak Tree
Its roots are tenacious,
Its trunk is audacious,
Its branches majestic, abide.
Its leaves, though dark green,
Glow with a sheen
That commands
the whole broad hillside.
Out from the Trinall Triplicity
#441
Thrones
The Angel has a hundred eyes
And wings too swift to count;
The Angel sees to your soul's dark depths
And reckons your account.
Behavior Modification: Chapter XXI
With Simon I never quite know where to begin. For example, he just showed up to finish my oatmeal/banana mid-afternoon snack; he'd been having his mid-afternoon nap on the sofa. I was reading at the table, as I usually am, and eating when I looked down to see Simon staring up at me. He had, apparently, heard my spoon clacking against the bottom of the bowl. I finished my last large spoonful, left him a generous taste, and put the bowl on the floor. The bowl is now clean, except for one oatmeal flake struck to the bottom.
This morning all 3 dogs showed up to lick my Yoplait yogurt container. I gave it to Simon, of course, no contest, but then I had to get up to find some dog "snaps" to give to the other two who also had great expectations. Guilt is an effective motivator. Dexter and Frollie had been there before. We have played out this scenario often. Like Simon they just stare at me. I get up and get the treats, by which time Simon is back to get one too.
Simon and Frollie are very clever. Each has learned how to chew the bottom of the yogurt container until it loosens or comes off. There is good yogurt left around the bottom and under the edge, apparently well worth the effort unless I am passing out snaps.
Last evening Mary came home with groceries from Walmart. Simon always comes downstairs to see what we are doing. He goes into the garage, investigates the car with its open doors, sniffs the laundry room where I am restocking shelves with the 9 bottles of Ocean Spray Cran Grape that Mary just brought home (yes, we drink a lot of Cran Grape; I'm having one now).
Meanwhile Mary had been putting bags of groceries at the bottom of the stairs. She moves bags from car to stairs, from stairs to kitchen. While she was making the second trip from car to stairs, Simon found the bag with the leftover chicken drumstick from the Walmart deli. (Mary had gotten hungry "out there.") Dexter and Frollie had noted the bag and left it alone as "people business"; they are like that. Simon being Simon stuck his nose in the bag, found the drumstick, hauled it out, and raced upstairs eating it as he went. By the time Mary caught up with him, he had eaten the drumstick, bone included.
With Simon there is no real distinction between people business and Simon business. Everything is Simon business; there is nothing he won't stick his handsome dachshund nose into and investigate, and act if he determines the situation warrants it.
The Dragon waits in the Dragon's keep...
#440
Into the Dark
Beyond the darkness
That everyone knows,
There’s a realm of light
Where no one goes.
No one gets past
The darkness deep,
For there the Dragon
Has his keep.
Should you wish
To reach the light,
You first must brave
The Dragon’s might.
#439
The Crash
When at last the mighty fall,
They fall like redwoods,
Leaves and all.
They scrape the sky,
But leave no traces,
Only wide and empty spaces;
They hit the ground
With mighty cracks,
Loud apocalyptic thwacks.
Nature then sees to the rest,
Disappearing them with zest.
That is how the mighty fall,
Angels, men, and redwoods tall.