Woof!

11 days off the grid:  no posts.  More wag; less bark.
Reading Dog On It by Spencer Quinn.  Marvelous thus far.
Woof.

Dogs and Politics

Violated the cardinal rule about dog walking today:  engaged a neighbor in politics.  Oops.  Never again!  About the world she said, "I hope we don't get involved in another war."  Does that mean the "other side" is saying or thinking "I hope we do?"  No.  No one hopes for a war.
She said, "Hillary gave such a good speech yesterday."  I listened to it.  I supported Hillary strongly and even worked on her behalf.  I think in the speech she said, "... it's despicable.  You countries better do something."
When I walk Cookie I cannot say, "I hope she behaves."  I have to act to make her behave.  Behind my actions stands the firm belief that if I consistently do what will make her behave then life will be nicer for both her and for me.  Hope is not an action.
When one says, "I hope we don't get involved in another war" what is one doing?  Saying something to feel good about herself?  If one says, "I pray we do not get involved in another war," is that different from "I hope we do not?"  Is prayer more active than hope?  Should I pray that Cookie learns not to pull on her leash?  I believe I can only pray that I remain firm in training her to obedience, pray that I continue to do.
This neighbor is now a challenge.  I shall avoid politics and continue to talk with her.  I believe, like everyone, she is educatable.  I suspect she suspects I might be slightly evil.  So you can guess which side is which.

You need a dog

Today, I did it.  I crossed the line.  I saw a nice man walking at 7AM and he had no dog.  I called out, "You need a dog!"  He replied, "Yes,  I do.  I just lost mine."  I thought he had lost one but then I realized he meant his dog had gone  to heaven.  One is not lost in heaven.  He agreed that he would soon be getting another dog.  A walker without a dog seems so lost and isolated.  There is this whole underworld of (us) dog people.  We are so much happier--not only because we have our dogs; we have each other.  I have not met a dog walker I didn't like.

People walking without dogs

Now when I see people out walking in the morning without a dog I want to say to them:  "Where's your dog?" or "You need a dog."  or "A dog would be nice."  But I do not say it; I just think it.  Why take a walk without a dog?  When I wonder, if ever I do wonder, whether I should have gotten a dog, I look at her face.  The wonder changes to wonder.  When people ask me, "Are you glad you got a dog?"  my answer is always an immediate, "Yes," and so I believe that.  When I see JJ put up a cutie - like Ginger last night, who was said to cry non stop from the moment she got put in the pound - all I have to do is see Ginger, hear the crying, and know that I am taking care of another soul.  And it's Cookie's soul, so she is also taking care of me.  Right, Cookie?

Days pass quickly

with a dog.  Get up.  Food.  Sun rises.  Walk.  Home.  Day passes and dusk approaches.  Walk.
Simple.

The dog pulls you

Yes, before leash training, the dog pulls you.  The dog also pulls you into life, into acceptance, into giving.  Is it "going ok"?  Sure, it is going ok; the dog takes away the resistance to thinking about that.  It simply is.  If it is time for a walk, it simply is.  There is no equivocation.  Dogs bring us to life.

Having a dog is a luxury that some do not allow themselves.
I could see this in myself; I see it in others.  When "dog" came to me in December, my thought was, "Yes, why can't I have a dog?  I have never had a dog.  Other people have dogs.  Why can't I have a dog."  Somehow, self-defined cat-person that I was, I self-inquired as to why I could not for once in my life have the dog experience.  Somehow, all of us know a boy and his dog or a little girl and her doggie are pictures of the most complete way to have a childhood.  Same goes for adulthood:  a person "gets" a dog.  I realize now that when I would see a homeless person sittin' on the street with his dog and the dog canteen, feeble thoughts would flit through my mind:  How does that guy have the money for dog food?  does the dog know his master is homeless?  is the dog happy enough?  I see now that even some homeless people have the self esteem to realize that they "deserve" a dog.
Realizing you "deserve" a dog is a method, a symbol, a process of self-healing.

Elevator

I am finally ready to publish the book that has been percolating in me for 10 years:  The Four Winds of Social Life.  It comes from all four pillars in my background:  academic, corporate, the theater, and the spirit.  My audience is the creative Sociology class and the general reader too.  The model I create gives you a way to understand the many brands of social theory and to understand yourself.  It also might give us a means to steer the ship of group or self.

My Elevator Speech

I believe in the power of the word, the power of poetry.  I am finally putting the finishing touches on my book, "The Four Winds of Social Life."  In the Spring it will be ready.  I even have a marketing plan, and I'll do it all myself.  I realize now that I have had the feeling-image of this book in me since my college days.  It is yearning to get out and leave me free.

writing Feb and March

Yesterday and the day before I read 10 pages to each of my classes.  I got good grades.  I said I'd publish by April 1, but I am changing that to May Day.  By May Day, "The Four Winds of Social Life" will go live.

dog dog dog

A dog requires routines.  A dog pulls you into the moment.  The moment yeilds detail.  A dog is.

Uncle Pete

Today, this morning, Cookie and Pete met.  It was right before the coyote ran down the street. Pete heard the story for the first time called "Half a Dog."  I'm sending it to him and of course he is invited to the upcoming Cookie Party.  This could be the start of a great Uncleship.

a dream

go back in time, in life, and start looking for a house again (not that I ever want to move).  no sign of a Cookie in my life.  cannot get Google Maps to pan and zoom properly.  finally have to ask my husband from whom I am splitting which keys to use.  then he ravishes me in an elevator and I wonder if we really are splitting.  Glad to awaken and see that all I really have to deal with is coffee and a dog.  Husband has been in the far reaches of heaven for 12 years already!

Morning Rain

The heater is on; the dog has peed.  All's well with the world.
There is wonderment about when a thing becomes routine.  You paint your wall; you shift your bed; you place the coffee pot on the other side of the kitchen; you cut your hair; you get a dog.  For a time, you awaken and this change awakens you further, calls you to the moment.  Hi.  Woof.  I have a doggie.  I have you.  You are here.  Will this abate?  Will this doggie ever cease to amaze me with her beauty and her doggieness?  Hair cuts do; coffee pots do; I suspect doggie will continue.  How can that wag wag wag ever do anything except wag my heart.  I suppose I could come to take that wag for granted, but know now that would be a mistake.  May that wag evermore wag right to my heart and keep it soft.

Dogs for Humans

To meet over dogs is good.  To meet over God, politics, or Microsoft is bad.  Dogs bring us together.  There is always another cute face to look at, behavior to admire, tips to exchange, resumes to sniff, wonder to behold.

Bark less; wag more

Bark Less

Wag More

I saw that decal on this morning's walk.  Bingo.  A dog opens your eyes to love and common sense.

The Reno Kid

It's time to thank The Reno Kid for Cookie.  Reno has not met Cookie yet, but she played a key role in my Cookie-ing.  I met Reno in Michigan in the 7th grade.  I was new to the school and I picked her out as the cutest girl and decided on the spot that I wanted to be her best friend.  I never thought I'd make it--she had such long legs and seemed masterfully self-confident--but I made it:  we became best friends.
Now it is decades later.  Reno called me the day before New Year's Eve and said, "You know, I think you need a dog." I said, "Ok."
The day before, unbeknownst to us, Cookie (then nameless) had been dropped off at a kill-place.  On the 30th JJ retrieved her--only because the doggie she'd gone to pick up had been adopted that morning.  Cookie made it through that narrow place in just the nick of time.  This is a picture of her at the pound, ears hanging, and, as Auntie Jean said, determined, but frightened.  JJ to the rescue.
She got her fixin' and stuffs 'n Stephanie took her from JJ, named her Zoey, & I appeared in Stephanie's yard for that date with the first kiss.
Cookie was the cutest doggie. I picked her right then and there--just like I picked Reno.  We dated on the 4th and 5th, and she slept over on the 6th.
The next week, I got a brief case of cold paws.  I emailed Reno in Texas that I was a creative type, a change type, not a CEO, not a steady type. Would I tire of a dog the way I tire of any routine (the gym, journaling, juicing, cooking this food or that, this way or that, eating at the table, eating on the couch, eating in bed, eating at the table, not eating, eating, those shoes or those, blue jeans or dress-up, that metier or this --whatever:  I am always changing.  I write a syllabus for each class, and then I forget to check it, always coming up with the new idea of the day.  I ask my students what's due!)  What if ... say ... I forgot about the dog or regretted the dog?)
Reno said, "OK, time to talk."  We spoke for an hour.  Reno's been a dog person all her life, starting with Mikey in the 7th grade, a doggie I then knew for five years.  Though my family was dogless and maybe even anti-dog,  I totally accepted Mikey.  He was Mikey.  Wuff.
Reno was incredibly sensible.  She started with, "Ok, I've always been a dog person, I grew up with a dog, I cannot imagine living without a dog, but it is a bold step for you." Then came the outpouring of wonder and delights and depths of dogging, particularly with her Scarlett, the long-legged in Texas.  I knew Reno was right -- or that I wanted to be right, like Reno.
Reno was always better at French vocabulary than I was in the 10th and 11th grades.  It would have been annoying if it had not been so remarkable, the way she could pick up those words, les mots.  And she seemed correct about the wonder and sensibility of having a dog (chien?)--at least for herself.  Well, one of the wonders for me, is Chienning with The Reno Kid.  Wuff.  How do you say Wuff in French?

Down with Sophistication!

Cookie had her first moments without me yesterday evening:  four hours.  Auntie Jean came over which was extraordinarily nice of her, but, she reported, Cookie part of the time sat waiting with her nose to the door.  When I drove up she knew, Auntie reported, and when we touched I thought I saw joy.  I had never before seen joy move around.  Human joy is so much more sophisticated.  It was thirty seconds later that joy jumped that little red body around, and around, and around, and around.  I said, "That's your tail."  Auntie Jean just looked at me and cocked her chin down and said, "She didn't do that when I came in."  Jumps and more jumps and paws up followed the caramel spinning.  It was joy!
Have I ever, ever, ever been as happy as Cookie was happy?  Maybe that first Christmas when Bruce appeared at my Manhattan door, arms full of wrapped gifts and I knew for the first time in thirty years that there was a Santa Claus, but my human body probably tried to act sophisticated. Maybe when we moved into this house when it was all empty and we brought up two director's chairs to sit on, candles, cheese, and wine--but that is just a house, and I didn't run around in circles and jump up.  I sophisticated and probably said smart things. Maybe that night when Mr. Musse appeared in another Manhattan door years later, late, from the plane, bringing the gift of himself, and we sophisticated and said smart things.  Maybe when I saw my mother so peaceful and beautiful at death.  You cannot call that joy, but it was fullness, just as full as Cookie's joy was full.  I don't remember joy when I got my PhD--that was just a PhD.  Proud, maybe, but that 'ain't' joy.  Joy joy joy ... let's see ... Ah.  Maybe always dog related, as in the feather bed in Redmond with the bubbly wind comin' in from the window and Keno and Turbo making big dents in the feathers, four bodies, just lying around.  Maybe when the white Honda FIT was first parked outside--but that is just a car.  I liked it a lot, a lot a lot, but joy?  Joy?  It was good jumping back in a swimming pool two years ago after being dry for thirty years.  But joy?  It was laps.  Joy?  It was pretty close to joy when I put the song in the can in three hours at The Grand Master Studio, but 9/11 had just happened and joy was drained from all the earth, which was what the song sang.  Joy in the Grand Canyon on the river?  That was close, when you scream, wet all over, for five hours in a row.  Yes, that was close to joy.  Joy. That's that stuff we knock out of a kid, isn't it, with a "Calm down."
Cookie's joy last night was so joyful that it got in me.  It jumped inside.  It was the best joy, model joy, unbounded joy.  Unsophisticated joy.
Today I have to leave for the second time.  What will await me at 6:30?  Could there be more?  I think the answer will be yes and the real question is about me:  will I always feel it as I did last night when it jumped inside?  My heart crumpled!  The walls of my heart came down!

New Dog: Day 5, morning.

My neighbor said after my dog tales of just one day:  "I see you're being pulled into your dog's world."
Ha.  And here I thought I was pulling the dog into my world.  I did not realize that it was a two way street.  We miss so much without a dog.  I threw the Rune Stones the day after I met her (she kissed me on the first date) and the stones said "Partnership."  That was much better than Spikey the black dog; the stones for Spikey said "Disruption."  It's not that Cookie is not disruption, too, but she is a disruption of singlehood into partnership.  If she is my partner, I get to experience her as she gets to experience me. 
Yesterday, she made 20 friends, which is more than I made in the past 10 years.  They were all very good friends, too:  positive, upbeat, open, happy to see her, and giving.  Most of the relationships were brief, but each one could have been life long if the geography was different, e.g.,I am not going to move in to the Honda dealership. 
Besides the responsibility, which is great, the main thing about having a dog is how it changes your relationships with humans.  So many people talk to you.  "Well, hi."  "What's your name?"  "May I pet you?"  These are things we could be saying to one another, but we do not.   It is as if we walk around the world trying to ignore each other. 
The dog has got the basics down:  exercise, greetings, and expression of happiness.  Occasionally it is necessary to express caution or even fear (and its attendant aggression), but 90% of the time, expression is joy.  Maybe some of that will rub off on me (instead of or in addition to the fleas).
My dog loving friends would say when I was getting cold paws about this life change: "you'll see that the positives will outweigh the negatives."  Or, "Cookie will be your best friend."  Or, "In a few months she will seem like she's been a part of your family always."  Or, "Do it.  You deserve a dog."  These proclamations were positive, but intellectual.  It's when you see her face and you feel in your chest that you have adopted someone who cannot talk and you are to negotiate everything with looks and feelings and tones that she begins to sink down into your heart and open it up.  Cookie!  Aaaa, Cookie Girl.
PS:  Why didn't you pee this morning?  Addendum, she peed. 

Half a Dog

I began to write a piece called, "Half a Dog."
I did not dare get a whole dog:  too big of a life change.  I have never had a dog and what if I hated it?
I was going to propose to my neighbor, Pete, that we share a dog.  Holly had died three months ago, and he announced on New Year's Eve he would not be able to resist having a dog much longer.  So why not stick only my toe in the water instead of a whole foot and share a dog. 
I attended a two hour class for humans while dogging at the Glendale Humane Society (good class) but afterwards I said to the teacher, "Oh, I was thinking of getting a half a dog."  "What's that?" she said.  "You know: share a dog with my neighbor since it is such a responsibility, but after your class I don't think that would be right."  "Oh," she said, "That would work.  Sure.  Train her into both places and people from Day One.  A half a dog.  Yes."  Then she added, "But if I were you, I'd make sure I got the front half."
This inspired me and I returned home to write Chapter One of "Half a Dog".  We would track everything.   We would keep everything straight. We could write out our "Pre-Pup" so that if we ever had to break up we could abide by our rational agreements.   Chapter One was complete.
Now, I like Pete a lot, but I barely know him.  Would I place the 10 page chapter on his doorstoop?  Would I email it to him?  Would I invite him over for a glass of wine and read it to him?  Would I just knock on his door and blurt it out rather than making him read the 10 pages?  Or would I go and let the river of life carry my on and go and meet ... Cookie. 
Dates with Cookie and emails with her rescue ladies took over -- and then Cookie took over.  How can you have just a half a Cookie?

What I did on my vacation

     Dog decision.  Kindle Fire acquisition.  Facials.  Free will essay.  Garage, kitchen, and bath re-arrangement.  Extra funds acquisition.  KDP initiation.  Party fun.  New neighbor.   Cathy support.  Resistance of depression.
     Sloth, food, computer games, caring about politics.
     Preparation for school.  Seven film writing students will have an odyssey into their own creativity and why they are worthy to be good writers.  Fifty soc writing students will be experiments which will enhance my book.  Thirty new college students will learn to love one another and practice efficiency.
     2012 will continue to be exciting and wondrous.