Saturday, February 11, 2017
Why Dogs Love Big Sticks (and so do we!).
Bud has made the transition from a Northern dog to a Southern dog easier than his his human care givers. But then, dogs "live in the moment" . . . . . . . . . . . . . a trait we humans could use. Being a Yellow Lab, Bud easily makes friends such as Bear, the Black lab-German Shepherd mix with whom Bud shared a large stick yesterday. It seems that dogs - mostly male dogs - love sticks and the bigger the better. Why Bud is proudest when prancing like a deer holding a big stick with antler-like branches above his head. He's obviously making Bear jealous that his stick is the biggest of the moment. A prancing dog is a happy dog - a dog that is on top of his world. Not unlike his human counterparts. Why, we love and just have to show-off our newest, shiniest, biggest, baddest or prettiest thing-a-ma-bob. Bud's big stick sure makes him proud just like us.
Bud has made the transition from a Northern dog to a Southern dog easier than his his human care givers. But then, dogs "live in the moment" . . . . . . . . . . . . . a trait we humans could use. Being a Yellow Lab, Bud easily makes friends such as Bear, the Black lab-German Shepherd mix with whom Bud shared a large stick yesterday. It seems that dogs - mostly male dogs - love sticks and the bigger the better. Why Bud is proudest when prancing like a deer holding a big stick with antler-like branches above his head. He's obviously making Bear jealous that his stick is the biggest of the moment. A prancing dog is a happy dog - a dog that is on top of his world. Not unlike his human counterparts. Why, we love and just have to show-off our newest, shiniest, biggest, baddest or prettiest thing-a-ma-bob. Bud's big stick sure makes him proud just like us.
Monday, March 17, 2014
Why Dogs Love Their Species (and people don't)
Comfortably ensconced in his new Georgia habitat, Buddy has made lots of new friends. Actually, he doesn't have any enemies (ok, there's Tiger the German Shepherd that gives him the evil eye on the Silver Comet Trail in the mornings, and the doggies that bark behind fences they never leave). But, Bud truly loves all doggies. I mean frantic tail wagging and glassy eyes at the sight or sniff of a high tailed Bella or Wheeler or Delilah or Annie or Bailey well . . . . you get the picture.
Better yet, Bud can fantasize about future encounters while snorting for Eau 'd Doggie through the low hanging leaves of bushes and even lower grass fronds. Bud's dog2dog encounters are full of sniffing all over and then more sniffing followed by the front leg bow with a bark of delight hoping the new doggie will do the same and play and play and play. O the rassling, running, jumping and sounds of dogs at play. And, Bud has never ignored a dog because of color, breed, gender, length of hair, parentage or sexual ability. Nope, this guy is an equal opportunity player and friend.
Too bad the world of the people with the logic and rational thought and, who actually know they will die some day, can't like and play with people that are not like them. Bud assumes he will live forever and still loves every dog. I know I will die one day and in the meantime cannot possibly apologize to all the people I have ignored, disliked and marginalized because they were from a different tribe than my tribe.
Of course tribes are big in the Bible, such as the 12 tribes of Israel. Yet, everyone belongs to at least one tribe and most of us to several tribes. You see, I was born into the American, southern, male, conservative, caucasian tribe but later also joined the protestant, professional, progressive, mid-western,nuclear family tribe. Today, I am also a proud member of the southern, retired, grandparenting, dog walking tribal community. And, assuredly, some day these tribal affiliations won't mean a thing. All that time wasted.
Better yet, Bud can fantasize about future encounters while snorting for Eau 'd Doggie through the low hanging leaves of bushes and even lower grass fronds. Bud's dog2dog encounters are full of sniffing all over and then more sniffing followed by the front leg bow with a bark of delight hoping the new doggie will do the same and play and play and play. O the rassling, running, jumping and sounds of dogs at play. And, Bud has never ignored a dog because of color, breed, gender, length of hair, parentage or sexual ability. Nope, this guy is an equal opportunity player and friend.
Too bad the world of the people with the logic and rational thought and, who actually know they will die some day, can't like and play with people that are not like them. Bud assumes he will live forever and still loves every dog. I know I will die one day and in the meantime cannot possibly apologize to all the people I have ignored, disliked and marginalized because they were from a different tribe than my tribe.
Of course tribes are big in the Bible, such as the 12 tribes of Israel. Yet, everyone belongs to at least one tribe and most of us to several tribes. You see, I was born into the American, southern, male, conservative, caucasian tribe but later also joined the protestant, professional, progressive, mid-western,nuclear family tribe. Today, I am also a proud member of the southern, retired, grandparenting, dog walking tribal community. And, assuredly, some day these tribal affiliations won't mean a thing. All that time wasted.
Why Dogs Can See Through the Fog and Sometimes We Can't
As a five year old neutered Lab you'd think Bud's procreative instincts would wane. Yet, upon the excitement of a new friend (or even some long time friends) his excited exuberances lean toward disfavored social behavior as in "I love you so much I want a copy of me." Bud can be forgiven because . . . well . . . he's a male dog. And male dogs sometimes have feral instincts even after being divested of necessary equipment. In a nutshell, dogs do what dogs have always done . . . keep the species moving forward.
Unfortunately, their human counterparts haven't learned much since the procreative command "to be fruitful and multiply" came from on high. Finally, after thousands of years human males are able to produce more copies than those that die. And, after those thousands of years we've developed rules of the road that allow us to function as a moderately successful society. Such as, don't pick your teeth at the dinner table and one spouse at at time. Yet very smart and famous dudes who should know better and (as my mother would say) "can't help themselves" continually "embareass" our species.
Must be the fog. You know the fog of war, the fog of campaigns, the fog of booze or drugs and "whatever's new in the office" fog. It's getting to where even fog gets a bad name. Now men, mostly, have had fogs overcome them for centuries. David was consumed by the Bathsheban Fog, Anthony by the Cleopatran fog and Tom Jefferson by the easypickings fog.
Good news! Now, there's treatment for fog and, well, everything else that tends to get men into trouble.
Yet, there's a much simpler cure for fog. Dogs know this. Their mothers taught them. In fact, dog moms teach their pups all they need to know . . . in about eight weeks!
Unfortunately, their human counterparts haven't learned much since the procreative command "to be fruitful and multiply" came from on high. Finally, after thousands of years human males are able to produce more copies than those that die. And, after those thousands of years we've developed rules of the road that allow us to function as a moderately successful society. Such as, don't pick your teeth at the dinner table and one spouse at at time. Yet very smart and famous dudes who should know better and (as my mother would say) "can't help themselves" continually "embareass" our species.
Must be the fog. You know the fog of war, the fog of campaigns, the fog of booze or drugs and "whatever's new in the office" fog. It's getting to where even fog gets a bad name. Now men, mostly, have had fogs overcome them for centuries. David was consumed by the Bathsheban Fog, Anthony by the Cleopatran fog and Tom Jefferson by the easypickings fog.
Good news! Now, there's treatment for fog and, well, everything else that tends to get men into trouble.
- Just Twittered a picture of yourself shirtless or pantless?
- Fathered a child by your aide or maid? Texted or sexted too much information to people who didn't want to know?
- Took a 3,000 mile vacation detour to comfort your new soulmate?
- Just have a wide stance?
- The fog defense is "I'm taking a leave of absence and seeking treatment" when everyone else wants them to say "I've taken a leave of my senses and I'm resigning to spend the rest of my life raising organic baby food and seeking a cure for stupidity." Nobody will miss you and our collective embarrassment quotient will be greatly reduced.
Yet, there's a much simpler cure for fog. Dogs know this. Their mothers taught them. In fact, dog moms teach their pups all they need to know . . . in about eight weeks!
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Why Dogs Love Hats (and Royal Weddings!)
Dogs love to dress up for their masters. Bud goes to the Halloween weenie roast every year as The Great Pumpkin sporting a huge orange globe-like felt expanse over his generous back with a bit of green and brown where the stem of the pumpkin belongs. Bud likes it because it attracts his two favorite kinds of friends: little doggies and little kids. Oh, for Christmas he proudly wears the red and green felt collar with silver bell-like ornaments as he surfs just beneath the snow for a discarded Taco Bell wrapper or the tasty carcass of a "not quick enough" squirrel. And, he's worn sunglasses and a Cubs cap (briefly) but only because its fun and attracts his friends.
That must be why the British ladies wore those retro hats to the Royal Wedding. It reminds of either a day at the pheasant farm or viewing a collection of extra terrestrial saucers on loan from Area 51. Now these ladies were, as they say, haute coutre which in Americanese means "hot stuff", as long as you didn't have to pay the tab. Actually, it was refreshing to realize that style and fashion have not been abandoned for Buckeye T-Shirts and Nikes. But then, our revolutionary forefathers wanted the opposite of what jolly old England had to offer: a king who made all of the decisions and the privilege of rank. And, we got it. We get to argue over everything. It seems we're in a constant state of anger.
When William and Catherine said "I will", and the strains of "Jerusalem" was in full throat in Westminster Abbey, it seemed all of England was united in a single purpose. Now maybe the purpose was "We're going to have one hell of a party for the next 3 days". Yet this was a validation of England culture as a still relevant nation. A nation with a thousand years of kings, queens, knights, sheriffs, poets and bards, beheadings, prime ministers and - yes - princesses.
Now comes a beautiful, modern princess with regal bearing and a smile that could disarm the hardest heart, marrying a search and rescue helicopter pilot whose life's destiny is to become King of England. Feathered and saucer-like hats (like doggie and kids' costumes) bring out the best in their wearers. Here, a dashing lieutenant's superbly cut red Irish Guards' uniform with blue sash and aviator's wings paired perfectly with a composed, slim brunette in a classic white satin gown trimmed in English lace all of which shouted to two billion watchers: "There is hope for all who look for the best in each other." And with that hope in each other comes hope for our time and, maybe, just maybe, for our kids' time.
Bud and I were struck by the wedding sermon. While It urged William and Kate to mutual love and support, and the gathered congregation to support them in marriage, it recognized the reality of life together in a world where others constantly work to divide loyalty and undermine respect. What pressure we put on 29 year-olds these days. "Change the world." William has been a work in progress and now with Kate - the world's newest rock star - perhaps they can. We need it. Especially the kids . . . and their little doggies.
Bud (and friend)
That must be why the British ladies wore those retro hats to the Royal Wedding. It reminds of either a day at the pheasant farm or viewing a collection of extra terrestrial saucers on loan from Area 51. Now these ladies were, as they say, haute coutre which in Americanese means "hot stuff", as long as you didn't have to pay the tab. Actually, it was refreshing to realize that style and fashion have not been abandoned for Buckeye T-Shirts and Nikes. But then, our revolutionary forefathers wanted the opposite of what jolly old England had to offer: a king who made all of the decisions and the privilege of rank. And, we got it. We get to argue over everything. It seems we're in a constant state of anger.
When William and Catherine said "I will", and the strains of "Jerusalem" was in full throat in Westminster Abbey, it seemed all of England was united in a single purpose. Now maybe the purpose was "We're going to have one hell of a party for the next 3 days". Yet this was a validation of England culture as a still relevant nation. A nation with a thousand years of kings, queens, knights, sheriffs, poets and bards, beheadings, prime ministers and - yes - princesses.
Now comes a beautiful, modern princess with regal bearing and a smile that could disarm the hardest heart, marrying a search and rescue helicopter pilot whose life's destiny is to become King of England. Feathered and saucer-like hats (like doggie and kids' costumes) bring out the best in their wearers. Here, a dashing lieutenant's superbly cut red Irish Guards' uniform with blue sash and aviator's wings paired perfectly with a composed, slim brunette in a classic white satin gown trimmed in English lace all of which shouted to two billion watchers: "There is hope for all who look for the best in each other." And with that hope in each other comes hope for our time and, maybe, just maybe, for our kids' time.
Bud and I were struck by the wedding sermon. While It urged William and Kate to mutual love and support, and the gathered congregation to support them in marriage, it recognized the reality of life together in a world where others constantly work to divide loyalty and undermine respect. What pressure we put on 29 year-olds these days. "Change the world." William has been a work in progress and now with Kate - the world's newest rock star - perhaps they can. We need it. Especially the kids . . . and their little doggies.
Bud (and friend)
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Why Dogs Love Easter (and Spring)
The comings, goings, conversation and laughter from the house next door rode the Easter breeze like personal nvitations to Buddy: "Come in - pull up a bowl - eat your fill - lick my hand - scratch your back on the carpet - take a nap." Never mind that Bud was supposed to be helping plant some of the first petunias and vinca in Northern Indiana.
Earlier this holy morning little girls with ribbons trailing down their necks and tied in crisp bows behind green and yellow polka dotted dresses clamored for attention next to little boys with spiked hair tugging at their first neckties. Families gathered first to worship and then to fawn over the newest grandchild, laugh and eat. Life and family go on. Yes, Bud loves Easter and "Yes m'am, I'll have whatever you're having. Put that dish right over here."
Spring (they say) has come to Northern Indiana. While reviewing the late April afternoon breezes Bud's nose wiggles overtime, first embracing and then cataloging the location of each odor in a canine Excel spreadsheet. Retrieval is just a breeze a way. Our daily walks reveal the renewal of the life cycle of all plants and animals. The buds of trees and bushes crouch in preparation for their great crescendo of color and fragrance - the resurrection of life.
When it rains the sidewalks are busy with the journeys of thousands of earthworms scrambling foremost to find drier earth, but also to avoid the paws of the 72 pound Yellow Lab bearing down on them. The dawn honking of Canadian Geese as they skim the rooftops in search of a pond and then using their wide wings as the original flaps to flare out and ski to a perfect landing. Soon, Mallard ducklings will follow their mothers single file to and from the ponds as they learn the lessons of survival. Bud recognizes and embraces this annual rite and plays his part in the balance of natural life.
Easter Scripture tells of the rising to life of Jesus from his tomb. Death cannot conquer those who are alive in Jesus. They will have eternal life. It's easy to see this spark of life in nature and animals. This determination to survive, to live on. Humans are the only form of life that sins. Humans are also the only form of life that know they are going to die. Hmm.
Bud lives each day to the fullest in balance with his abilities and limitations (remember he is not sad that he doesn't know how to open the refrigerator or drive the car). We, however, live each day in fear of others (what they might say or think about or do to us) and regretting that which we cannot do. Meanwhile Bud and his friends give us daily lessons for balanced living, without fear, pausing only long enough to say "Sir, I'll have what you're having."
Happy Easter
Bud (and friend)
Earlier this holy morning little girls with ribbons trailing down their necks and tied in crisp bows behind green and yellow polka dotted dresses clamored for attention next to little boys with spiked hair tugging at their first neckties. Families gathered first to worship and then to fawn over the newest grandchild, laugh and eat. Life and family go on. Yes, Bud loves Easter and "Yes m'am, I'll have whatever you're having. Put that dish right over here."
Spring (they say) has come to Northern Indiana. While reviewing the late April afternoon breezes Bud's nose wiggles overtime, first embracing and then cataloging the location of each odor in a canine Excel spreadsheet. Retrieval is just a breeze a way. Our daily walks reveal the renewal of the life cycle of all plants and animals. The buds of trees and bushes crouch in preparation for their great crescendo of color and fragrance - the resurrection of life.
When it rains the sidewalks are busy with the journeys of thousands of earthworms scrambling foremost to find drier earth, but also to avoid the paws of the 72 pound Yellow Lab bearing down on them. The dawn honking of Canadian Geese as they skim the rooftops in search of a pond and then using their wide wings as the original flaps to flare out and ski to a perfect landing. Soon, Mallard ducklings will follow their mothers single file to and from the ponds as they learn the lessons of survival. Bud recognizes and embraces this annual rite and plays his part in the balance of natural life.
Easter Scripture tells of the rising to life of Jesus from his tomb. Death cannot conquer those who are alive in Jesus. They will have eternal life. It's easy to see this spark of life in nature and animals. This determination to survive, to live on. Humans are the only form of life that sins. Humans are also the only form of life that know they are going to die. Hmm.
Bud lives each day to the fullest in balance with his abilities and limitations (remember he is not sad that he doesn't know how to open the refrigerator or drive the car). We, however, live each day in fear of others (what they might say or think about or do to us) and regretting that which we cannot do. Meanwhile Bud and his friends give us daily lessons for balanced living, without fear, pausing only long enough to say "Sir, I'll have what you're having."
Happy Easter
Bud (and friend)
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Why Dogs Lick Grandkids
Steeled against the wind flowing past the open back window of the Jeep, Buddy is scenting whatever primal smell was airborne. It was grandkid time. At least for Buddy's human parents who were being drawn to worship again at the crib of the first-born grandkid, Ryan Phillip Zegarelli. Yellow Labs like Bud love the squeally sounds of kids playing at whatever game.
Kids are great fun and Bud can run and jump and lick them all with great delight. Yet, for this trip to the Holy Grandkid Grail, Bud was destined to visit and play with his 100 pound Black Lab friend J.J. and his human parents, Tom and Diana, who love J.J. like a son. That is, a son with full grazing rights in the kitchen. Pastrami, prime rib, sushi and whatgever is on the menu. Oh those prawns! All while Buddy's human parents are off to Atlanta to ooh and ahh and change the diapers of the first born of the Noland-Zegarelli alliance.
If interbreeding is a genetic concern, not to worry about a mid-western Lutheran girl marring a Sleepy Hollow (read The Headless Horseman) New York Catholic guy of Italian descent and producing (so far) a blue-eyed, auburn haired boy that is fixated on laptops and cellphones - not to mention an 82" 3D LCD TV. But enough about Mark Zuckerberg and technology. Like ice cream and lollipops, seven month old grandkids are precious enough to lick again and again. If anyone doubts there is a life force within the the human form - observe a seven month old flail his arms for the next bite of pureed sweet potatoes while eyeing the remote control to the monstrous LCD screen in front of him.
Curiosity is rumored to have killed cats. Yet the curiosity of Yellow Labs and grandkids is close behind. For both, the smell and feel of anything earthly is irresistible. Bud's nose is in our clothes and crotches while grandkids stuff everything in their mouths savoring the feel and the memories. This is how community is built and preserved. Smell, taste and feel. But sight, well, has this been airbrushed or cut and pasted? You never know for sure. Smells and tastes those are forever, unless Steve Jobs is VERY good.
It's about reality. You can't fake out dogs or kids - especially grandkids. If you lick them they know they are loved forever - unconditionally. And, isn't that what we all crave? To be licked with unconditional love by our family and friends? Labs, Beagles and other doggies have the spark of compassion and love for humans, evidenced by unfailing love licks - like we would lick or kiss our precious grandkids and others we love.
Eternal bonds of friendship. "While our bonds might be strained by passion, our bonds of friendship should never be broken" spoke President Lincoln during the Civil War. Buddy knows this instinctively. Why don't we? Would that these words would overcome our hearts in today's discussions. But no, our short-term agendas flood the field of our discussions.
Life is fragile. Human events and history move quickly, yet harsh words spurred by emotions etch hurtful words in granite on our hearts. Should our very lives be demanded of us tonight, what choices would we make? Would we continue to make our earthly arguments to fulfill our agendas? Or, would we lay the foundation for a just and peaceful tomorrow for our grandkids (and our doggies)?
Yea, Yellow Labs and their friends have so much to tell us about life and the future. Especially the future. Will it really be any different than it is today? Won't there be love and hate, selfishness and compassion, rich and poor, powerful and weak, the living and the dying? But, will we choose to lick the hated, the selfish, the poor and the dying? Or, will we choose to lick the loved, the selfish, the powerful and the rich and the living? Ah, tough choices if we contemplate our epitaph.
But, if we realize that the choices our grandkids will have tommorow are mostly decided by the choices we make today: to love or to hate, to lift up the weak or the powerful, to help the rich or the poor, our choices are clear. Will we will know whom to lick? Yes, Labs, Golden Retrievers, Beagles, Poodles, Dachsunds and their brethren know upon whom to present their precious slobber. Why can't the humans get it? Hey, Bud, lick my hand again. I love you.
Buddy and Friend (for now)
Kids are great fun and Bud can run and jump and lick them all with great delight. Yet, for this trip to the Holy Grandkid Grail, Bud was destined to visit and play with his 100 pound Black Lab friend J.J. and his human parents, Tom and Diana, who love J.J. like a son. That is, a son with full grazing rights in the kitchen. Pastrami, prime rib, sushi and whatgever is on the menu. Oh those prawns! All while Buddy's human parents are off to Atlanta to ooh and ahh and change the diapers of the first born of the Noland-Zegarelli alliance.
If interbreeding is a genetic concern, not to worry about a mid-western Lutheran girl marring a Sleepy Hollow (read The Headless Horseman) New York Catholic guy of Italian descent and producing (so far) a blue-eyed, auburn haired boy that is fixated on laptops and cellphones - not to mention an 82" 3D LCD TV. But enough about Mark Zuckerberg and technology. Like ice cream and lollipops, seven month old grandkids are precious enough to lick again and again. If anyone doubts there is a life force within the the human form - observe a seven month old flail his arms for the next bite of pureed sweet potatoes while eyeing the remote control to the monstrous LCD screen in front of him.
Curiosity is rumored to have killed cats. Yet the curiosity of Yellow Labs and grandkids is close behind. For both, the smell and feel of anything earthly is irresistible. Bud's nose is in our clothes and crotches while grandkids stuff everything in their mouths savoring the feel and the memories. This is how community is built and preserved. Smell, taste and feel. But sight, well, has this been airbrushed or cut and pasted? You never know for sure. Smells and tastes those are forever, unless Steve Jobs is VERY good.
It's about reality. You can't fake out dogs or kids - especially grandkids. If you lick them they know they are loved forever - unconditionally. And, isn't that what we all crave? To be licked with unconditional love by our family and friends? Labs, Beagles and other doggies have the spark of compassion and love for humans, evidenced by unfailing love licks - like we would lick or kiss our precious grandkids and others we love.
Eternal bonds of friendship. "While our bonds might be strained by passion, our bonds of friendship should never be broken" spoke President Lincoln during the Civil War. Buddy knows this instinctively. Why don't we? Would that these words would overcome our hearts in today's discussions. But no, our short-term agendas flood the field of our discussions.
Life is fragile. Human events and history move quickly, yet harsh words spurred by emotions etch hurtful words in granite on our hearts. Should our very lives be demanded of us tonight, what choices would we make? Would we continue to make our earthly arguments to fulfill our agendas? Or, would we lay the foundation for a just and peaceful tomorrow for our grandkids (and our doggies)?
Yea, Yellow Labs and their friends have so much to tell us about life and the future. Especially the future. Will it really be any different than it is today? Won't there be love and hate, selfishness and compassion, rich and poor, powerful and weak, the living and the dying? But, will we choose to lick the hated, the selfish, the poor and the dying? Or, will we choose to lick the loved, the selfish, the powerful and the rich and the living? Ah, tough choices if we contemplate our epitaph.
But, if we realize that the choices our grandkids will have tommorow are mostly decided by the choices we make today: to love or to hate, to lift up the weak or the powerful, to help the rich or the poor, our choices are clear. Will we will know whom to lick? Yes, Labs, Golden Retrievers, Beagles, Poodles, Dachsunds and their brethren know upon whom to present their precious slobber. Why can't the humans get it? Hey, Bud, lick my hand again. I love you.
Buddy and Friend (for now)
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