Archive for the ‘Dogs’ Category


October 5, 2011

Rachael made an aside about her mounds of animals, and it reminded me of a moment at her last party. She’d locked all the animals in the bedroom, except for Adah (who had been hiding). When found, I offered to help Rach put the last cat away. I opened the door, knowing FULL WELL that beyond that barrier was a mass of animals. I still jumped back and screeched a bit. It’s not that any of them are scary or anything; they’re just so overwhelming, and really know how to fill a small space.

I must admit, I’m happy with the one. She keeps me busy, and she really adores being the queen of her domain.

Sadly, she’s only ever been queen for about a month or two. First, she had bratty little brother Brody up in her space for 3 whole years. How she ever put up with him, I’ll never know. Then he moved out, and she sorta breathed a sigh of relief and spread out a little. Then there was a short, bad episode with a small dog, moving immediately into a 2-cat situation. She is most decidedly not the queen of anything now; those cats knock her around like a fluffy big-eared volleyball.

And she copes. She even cuddles with the kitties once in a while. But while she is never as happy as when she’s chasing an oblivious ball-focused cattle dog in a park, having other animals at home never seems to add anything to her life. She loves not having to share the sunspots – or share anything, actually. She’s much less stressed about bones and toys when there’s not someone else trying to steal them.

Kinda like me. I enjoy writing dates, and my writer’s groups, and the fantabulous Night of Writing Dangerously, but those are my trips to the dog park. Those are the moments outside the norm. True, they make me gleeful. But for day-to-day routines, I prefer the moments alone at my desk when I wrestle something into submission-quality and do a private little happy dance. I like not sharing those moments. I like to jealously guard my plot revelations sometimes.

As if I didn’t anthropomorphize my dog enough already. Next thing you know, I’ll be dressing her in a beret and fashioning a typewriter that she can paw at.


July 9, 2011

I just opened a window on my browser, tabbed over to the google search bar, then… nothing. In the amount of time it took me to make those two actions, I’d forgotten what I was wanting to look for. So I came here instead. It’s just that kind of day.

What was I saying?

I’ve decided that Boonie will never truly be a ‘fetch’ kind of dog. She does adore running after balls… or so I thought. However she’s pretty terrible at picking it up when she gets there; she usually runs straight past it in the purer joy of simply running. If she does pick up the ball, she generally runs away from me, rather than the traditional fetch behavior of returning.

I always assumed she just didn’t get it. I figured some day it would click, but I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I’m starting to wonder, though. That gleeful chase for the ball could be a very different emotion. “Mom! My thing! Why are you throwing my thing? What on earth would you do that for? It’s mine!” Then the chase, and then she either gets distracted (she is a bit of a dim bulb, and really loves flat-out running) or she picks it up and takes it somewhere safe, somewhere far away from crazy precious-chucking momma.

So I shall not throw the ball for my dog any more. I refuse to torture her that way.

I had another thing I wanted to blog about, but I’ve completely forgotten what it was. I remember it was one word, that had the same rough number of syllables as “dog ball.” That’s how I told myself I was going to remember it. “Blankblank and dog ball.” Generally those sounding techniques work for me, but I think this one wasn’t quite close enough to work.

Sooo…. instead perhaps I shall talk about Oakland and the perfect waffle. No? Right, then, the joys of berrying. Also no? It came to me while I was in the car, just leaving the dog park… there was a lot of traffic… I remember seeing…. No good. It’s not going to come to me. It could have been while I was thinking about returning books, or finding wood (oo! gotta call Irina), or thinking of Urban Ore, or dreaming of putting fairy doors in the backyard, or thinking about art and supplies, how it’s a cheap thing to do, but requires a little outlay at first.

Nope. It’s not coming. It was far, far more interesting than the dog bit too. GOLdang it, that’s going to bug me. I mean, even more than it already does.

Something about my car? About concerts? About…

Memory is a funny thing. Just when you think you’ve got something down, it goes and twists on you. That’s why Memento was so affecting, and why Alzheimer’s is so terrifying. Everyone has those minutes, or hours even, where the loss of a memory drives them completely batty. But can you imagine living your entire life in those minutes? Having only moments of clarity, and then back into the fog.

Today is as close as I’d like to get to that, thank you very much. And yet, I know it’s highly likely I’ll get closer. I’ll just not think about that right now. Luckily, today it seems remarkably easy to not think about things.

Merry Christmas

December 25, 2010

Boonie says Merry Christmas.

boonie dog wiggling, wearing reindeer ears

We had a nice day yesterday, and a nice drink with the sisters, and are looking forward to a wonderful dinner and romp with Buster this afternoon.

I forgot to take pictures of most of my crafts this year, but I did snap a pic of the embroidery I did for Lala, of her awesome drawing of Loretta Lynn, Vampire Hunter:

black embroidery on white linen of Loretta lynn, vampire hunter

Then I came up, slept the sleep of the weary, and woke up to make Boonie pose on the disheveled couch, en deshabille.

Boonie with reindeer ears

September 23, 2010

So very, very tired… Between planning a bike event this weekend, a board meeting and development committee meeting this week, four grant deadlines, a mass mailing, a minor mailing, and 990 filing prep, I’m stretched so freaking thin you can see through me. I’m terrified I’m going to drop one of the bazillion balls I have up in the air.

The worst thing is that when I wake up at 6:30, after having gotten home late and in bed even later, my mind immediately goes to listing what I need to do today, and it’s physically impossible to get back to sleep. Yesterday I tricked it by watching Ponyo. Severance did the trick, the day before that. Today I’m not even going to try. Just a quick blog post, then I’ll be off to the packaging store for mailing supplies, Sports Basement to drop off a Regatta flyer and pick up energy bars for the ride, and then on in to work. Unless, of course, I hear from the embroiderers, then I should stop by there and pick up the schwag, and that’s right by the commercial mail post office…

In the interest of sanity, here’s a picture of my upside down dog:

upside down dog

Also in the interest of sanity, I’m going to go finish watching Severance now. This may be a new comfort movie. Don’t judge me.

A completely fictional… ah, forget it.

May 6, 2010

Dude, I could be funny here. If the internets weren’t so goshdarned… public, I could be hella funny. I could let loose with a string of ridiculous parodies that would make your head spin.

Except… the public thing. What happens on the internet does not in fact stay on the internet. Or it does, but that doesn’t help anything, since it goes viral. It’s tough to write any other posts, because the big thing in my life right now is this giant, ridiculous aspect. It’s kinda taking up far too much of my brain right now. I can fictionalize the ridiculousness, and I do, but that doesn’t help this blog, since the veil here is too thin. So what do I post here?

A Fictionalized Account of the Worlds in My Dog’s Ears

My dog has big ears. You hear that phrase, and you get a picture in your mind, but truly, your regular, man-sized brain can’t truly conceptualize the size of my dog’s ears. Each one is the same size as the rest of her head. When she looks up and perks her ears forward, it’s like looking at the top half of a six-pointed star.

Like anything else with dogs, they’re bigger on the inside. I am the Dr. Who of the canine world, because I am her master. Inside, there is a whole little factory of doozers erecting strange scaffolding and building little triggers and booby traps into the hidden nooks and crannies. These are to protect the community further in. That community I don’t know much about. It’s too deep and dark in there. All I know is what I can see near the surface.

The first line of defenses is a water sensitive strip. It’s the same mottled paper from cellphones that turn muddy and flat when water touches them. This one also starts to run straight onto the sensitive skin of the inner ear, burning like a stream of fire from the third sun of Hades, causing my little dog to buck, and shake, and essentially flip the heck out.

This strip actually activates in the simple presence of water. A shower turned on in the same house, a stream crossing barely covering the paws, even a pier or bridge 1/4 mile above a bay can activate the vile, burning acid. Water is just a big no-no.

There are other defenses, as well. Trip lines that lead directly to the lip area, forcing a happy, smiley face into a street dog I’m-gonna-tear-your-nose-off snarl. Those perhaps will be saved for another day of trying to avoid the ridiculous.

It’s Friday…

April 30, 2010

… I ain’t got shit to do… guess I’ll post something!

Except it’s past midnight, so I guess it’s technically Saturday. And I just stopped stuffing envelopes for my job (“Make a Ripple – Make a Difference” – y’all should come, June 10th!), so I guess technically I do have shit to do. And a job. Oh well.

I was at the dog park early this morning, and no less than five people commented on what a cute dog I have. I can’t help it. She’s cute. It’s the ears, and the eyeliner. Anyway, I found myself wondering what the correct response to that is. Normally I say “Thank you,” but that seems kinda silly. “Thanks, she was pretty dog-ugly until I gussied her up. It’s all thanks to me, that cuteness.”

So what is a correct response?

“I know, right?”

“Sure, but wait until you get to know her.”

“Shit, don’t let her hear that. She’s already got a big head.”

“Yep, that’s why she ain’t been et’ yet.”

(by the way, I had a few martinis while I was stuffing envelopes. It makes the time flyyyyyy by.)

Flat on my belly in the mud

December 4, 2009

I am bluuuuuue. And yes, you can say that with a lyrical LeAnn Rimes yodel in your voice. It’s appropriate.

This is arguably the worst day I’ve had, in the worst week I’ve had, in the worst month I’ve had, in what hasn’t been too hot a year. An overdue mailing gave me a papercut on my tongue, a niggling fear for my job won’t go away, I just came home to find my angry roommate half-packed to leave, I still have no roommate applicants so next month might be seriously tight, I’m overdrawn, exhausted, and I just got a ticket for the light that I knocked out backing into someone’s stupid invisible truck.

Grr. A good 50% of these problems can firmly be laid at my dog, Boonie’s, door. If she wasn’t such a brat, I wouldn’t have lost my roommate, I wouldn’t have such a problem finding a new one, if I didn’t have her I could even be living in my own apartment in San Francisco right now, even if it was in the middle of the Tenderloin.

And yet what am I doing right now? Rubbing her tummy, tossing squeaky squirrels in a log for her, and laughing uncontrollably.

Boonie chasing squirrels

Thank god for pets. They keep me sane, even if they do make my life merry hell.

C’s Backyard

October 17, 2009

BoonLovesCatPoop, originally uploaded by jujuwiz.

Boonie Loves Cat Poop.

Mission Bay, Howl-o-ween

October 4, 2009

BoonieHalloween09_2, originally uploaded by jujuwiz.

Sometimes, when I’m not writing, it’s my camera that has my attention (I totally wrote focus there three times and deleted it three times). This might turn into a bit more of a photo blog, since that’s how I seem to be speaking at the moment.