Some days it’s all that keeps her alive.
Days just like today.
Trying to be patient.
Category Archives: Dogs
A Dog, Her Yard, And A Contrail
Her days may be winding down, but she does like to go out and survey her territory.
Soon the dark nights will come, and all of this will be covered in Christmas lights! On a daily basis, dusk will come, the automatic switches will trigger, and some nuclear power plant somewhere will have to put another turbine on line to handle the load.
Filed under Castle Willett, Christmas Lights, Dogs
Waiting For Her Mom
While I spent my day discussing moral outrage (look for me using @momdude56 on Twitter, hashtag #IStandWithAhmed) and trying desperately to avoid having anything to do with the Republican debates, Jessie had much more basic demands on her time. With The Long-Suffering Wife out getting her nails done after work, Jessie has to sit out on the lawn and wait for her car to come around the corner.
Yes, she had been fed dinner (by me). Yes, she had been taken outside (by me) whenever she needed to all day. Yes, she had gotten treats (from me) whenever she begged. Yes, she had dry food (which I gave her) if she was still hungry. Yes, her water bowls had been refilled all day (by me).
But I’m not “mom.” So we’ll just sit here and wait.
Filed under Dogs, Moral Outrage
Of Dogs And Critters In The Dark
It’s hot. It’s muggy. Jessie had to go outside to relieve herself and patrol her territory.
I’m sitting at the other end of the yard waiting for her, minding my own business, checking Twitter on my phone. Jessie’s gone down by the porch where the barbecue and hot tub are, just to make sure everything’s secure. She’s a dog, it’s her job.
Suddenly I hear a tussle down there. Bushes rustling, rattling, and shaking, Jessie growling, maybe something banging off the side of the barbecue. I look, but sitting under the patio light and squinting off into the dark I can’t see a thing.
Another round of things being shaken and then here comes Jessie out of the dark, a white ghost, running toward me, her fur in full “puffed” mode. The running part is significant, since she’s really getting on and most days is really fighting to walk with any reliability. To see her running is quite surprising, to say the least.
She tears past me and up the steps, right into the sliding glass door which is still closed. She bounces off, down the steps, stumbles and falls on the patio, then gets back up and starts looking at me, then the door, then the shadows over by the barbecue, then the door, then me…
Remember that look that Gandalf had when he was fighting the Balrog, just before he fell? “Run, you fools!”
I opened the door, let her in, gave her a treat, calmed her down. Then, probably because I’m a guy and definitely because I’m an idiot, I grab a flashlight and go back out to see what’s out there.
As I crossed the yard I could hear something moving in those bushes behind the spa. I stopped about ten feet away and played the flashlight around, but couldn’t see anything.
Every time I would take a step closer, the rustling would start again. When I got about five steps away, it occurred to me that this was the point in the movie where the protagonist (me) gets attacked and eaten by the antagonist (zombie, alien, leopard, killer bunny, and so on). I did not wish to be attacked or eaten, so I backed off. Plus, I had a hunch.
I went back to my seat at the other end of the yard and turned off the porch light, then let my eyes adjust to the dark. I could still hear something moving around back down there. I just sat quietly and waited.
After about ten minutes I could see something moving down there. I snapped on the flashlight and confirmed my hunch.
Mama Raccoon had at least two cubs with her, and they were using the leftover water at the bottom of the spa (from the sprinklers & odd shower we’ve had) to wash their food.
Jessie had been wise. Or terrified, it didn’t matter. I’m guessing that Jessie might have spooked them when they were down in the spa, and Mama couldn’t get back up into the pine trees while carrying the cubs, so she was stuck in the bushes. If Jessie had given in to her canine instincts and barked or attacked, Mama Raccoon would have kicked her ass.
I turned off the flashlight and left them alone to their dinner.
Thank goodness it wasn’t a skunk!
Filed under Castle Willett, Critters, Dogs
Juicy Chunks O’ Wisdom For Tuesday, June 9th
‘Cause I read the comments, that’s why.
- The dog survived her day and night alone with me.
- Saw a huge accident on the other side of the freeway when I was heading home from the hangar. Many fire trucks, cops, and ambulances, three and a half of the four lanes blocked, traffic backed up for ten miles. Big surprise, given that we’ve gotten rain (so, so, SO weird for SoCal) from the remains of Hurricane Blanca after it pummeled Cabo San Lucas. On the other hand, our side of the freeway was cruising right along at 65+ up until some freakin’ moron decided to slow down to 5 mph in the #2 lane so that he could watch the carnage. That’s a special kind of freakin’ stupid!
- Of course you’ve seen the first full trailer for “The Astronaut.” Of course. It’s okay, go watch it again. (Watch it in Hi-Def. On a big screen. With the sound turned waaaay up.)
- The third best thing about how Jessie deals with the absence of The Long-Suffering Wife is the way her ears perk up and she snaps her head around to look at the front door with every creak of the house or sound from the street. When she’s here along with The Long-Suffering Wife and I come home, I’m sometimes here for five or ten minutes before she wakes up enough to notice that I’ve arrived.
- While you’re waiting for “The Astronaut” to come out, go pick up a copy of the new, remastered, extended, director’s cut, Blu-ray version of “1776.” It’s a masterpiece, I say! You will cheer every word, every letter!
- The second best thing about how Jessie deals with the absence of The Long-Suffering Wife is the the way she uses gas as a weapon when she wants to go to bed and I’m not ready yet. She lays next to the desk and farts and farts and farts. The Syrian army could learn a lesson from her. “Just a dog being a dog,” you say? Right, sure. So how do you explain the big smile on her face and the way she keeps glancing up at me after each “event”?
- Did everyone see that the cubesat launched two weeks ago by The Planetary Society has successfully opened the world’s first solar sail? Did everyone see the fantastic picture of it?
- The best thing about how Jessie deals with the absence of The Long-Suffering Wife is the way she takes off across the yard, even in her ancient, arthritic, and decrepit condition, when she sees The Long-Suffering Wife’s car coming into the driveway. Who fed her, took care of her, cleaned up after her, took her outside over and over, gave her treats… It’s sort of like the way a dad will worth with his son for innumerable hours in Little League baseball or Pop Warner football, and then when the kid gets on national television during his debut he grins at the camera and says, “HI MOM!”
- 867-5309. Ask for “Jenny.”
- Has everyone joined The Planetary Society so they can build a full-sized solar sail to test? Plus, you’ll help support their efforts to keep our Congresscritters informed and educated about space and science. Just for taking on that thankless task they should have the support of all of us!
Remember, “Don’t EVER read the comments!”
Filed under Distracted Driving, Dogs, Family, Freakin' Idiots!, Juicy Chunks, Movies, Music, Science Fiction
I’m Here Alone With YOU?
I freely associated the other day about “patterns” and how we set up temporal patterns for ourselves, falling into a routine that’s both comforting and confining. Tonight it’s been interesting to watch how the Jessie Puppy has got her own patterns and habits.
This isn’t exactly news, but it’s really been accentuated tonight. She’s getting pretty old (coming up on fourteen years) and she’s always been a bit fussy and contrarian. She’s never been a lap dog, but she’s always been a dog that needs to have someone around. She has her short list of places to go to sleep, and there’s often a pattern of sleeping here at this time of day, then there for a couple hours, then there when we go to bed, then there in the middle of the night…
Tonight The Long-Suffering Wife is off on an overnight business “off site” so it’s just me and the dog. We have not stuck close to the usual evening routine (except for the sacrosanct feeding times!) and she’s been all discombobulated over it.
Some of the evening activities that are usually roles played by me have punctuated the evening with a bit of routine – out to pee after 7:00, out in the back yard again at about 9:00, and so on. But the roles filled normally by The Long-Suffering Wife have pretty much been ignored. Jessie doesn’t know what to make of that.
I’ve been reminded by her about every ten minutes, “WE NEED TO BE IN THE BEDROOM NOW!” But I’m more of a late worker (why do you think these posts usually go up between 23:00 and midnight?) and I’m not going to bed. Yet she doesn’t want to go to the bedroom by herself.
I keep inviting her to lay down in the “desk cave” (by my feet under the desk) but she just looks horrified at the prospect. Don’t I understand that’s where she sleeps in the late morning and early afternoon? If she goes and lays down there now it will render the fabric of space-time asunder!
So she’s pacing back and forth between my desk (to remind me yet again that I’m off-script), the kitchen floor (because it’s about half way, and always a good default spot to sleep), and the bedroom (where she can’t stay alone, obviously).
On the other hand, when I’m left to my own resources for the evening, it’s party time! If by “party time” you mean “take the shower doors off their tracks and try to fix that broken part,” “watch the new trailer for ‘The Astronaut’ four or five times,” or “get caught up on sorting & tagging the latest batch of photos.” Talk about wild and crazy, I’ve even had three Diet Cokes tonight, not just one!
Whoo hoo!!
The Puppy Called…
…and she would like her attention span back. (This may be rambling. Or insane. Or nonsense. Or all of the above.)
I was going to say “the kitten called” but then I remembered that today was “National Puppy Day.” Everyone and their cousin has been posting pictures of their dogs online all day. (I didn’t.) On the other hand, most of the people I saw on Twitter and FaceBook who were posting pictures of their dogs were the people who post pictures of their dog about ten times a day anyway, so it’s not clear that there was anything special about today for them.
That all got me to thinking — who determines that today is “National Puppy Day?” Or that tomorrow is… Well, I don’t know what tomorrow is. The only list I could find, which is titled as being unofficial, is on Wikipedia (which is about as unofficial as you can get). It doesn’t have anything listed for tomorrow, but it didn’t have today listed as “National Puppy Day” either, so the reliability of the data is low. Or possibly the gullibility of all of the rest of us is extremely high.
A little more searching proves that there are more extensive sources on the internet than Wikipedia. (Big surprise!) The Checkiday website (probably a clickbait site, but most certainly less so than Buzzfeed) seems to be up to their armpits in wacky and unofficial holidays. They’ve got today as “National Puppy Day,” as well as “National Chip & Dip Day,” “National Melba Toast Day,” “Near Miss Day,” “OK Day,” and “World Meteorological Day.”
None of this answers the question of who’s in charge. In fact, it’s worse now, since there are apparently also “World” fake holidays. Who’s in charge of those?
“Near Miss Day?” Are we talking about just barely dodging that lunatic on his cellphone on the 405, or are we talking about having her say “no!” when you get down on one knee only to find later that she turned out to be a serial killer? Big difference there.
Tomorrow is “National Agriculture Day,” “National Chocolate Covered Raisins Day,” “World Tuberculosis Day,” and “American Diabetes Association Alert Day” according to this website.
The source or authority behind the last one I can understand. Which gives me an idea.
Shouldn’t these “holidays” all be required by law to have their sponsor or corporate backer listed as part of the name? So we would have (for instance) “Pedigree’s National Puppy Day,” “Doritos National Chip & Dip Day,” “Nabisco National Melba Toast Day,” “Tulsa Chamber of Commerce OK Day,” and the “United Nations Full Employment for Weather Forecasters Society World Meteorological Day.”
Perhaps when a holiday gets to a certain level of notoriety, like Christmas or Thanksgiving, they can do away with that full disclosure information.
Or we could offer naming rights opportunities! “Amazon’s Christmas,” or “Butterball’s Thanksgiving.”
Or maybe we just assume that ALL of them, from “National Chocolate Covered Raisins Day” up to Christmas are all sponsored by Hallmark. Probably not too far off on that one.
Gonzo Is As Gonzo Does
A little “heads up!” here — the next two weeks or so will be a bit gonzo at this end. Pickings here might occasionally be on the thinnish side.
“Fifi,” the world’s only flying B-29, restored, flown, and operated by the Commemorative Air Force, will be at my Southern California Wing of the CAF from next Monday to the following Sunday. We expect to see a lot of interest, large crowds, and a ton of work for the CAF SoCal members and staff.
On the good side, you’re likely to get a LOT of pictures of “Fifi” from just about every angle possible. I doubt that I’ll get a chance to go up and fly in her (this time, at least) but other than that I’m expecting some great images to share.
In addition, we’re trying to finalize a complete redesign of our CAF SoCal website, and get it live by the end of this week. (It’s going to look great!)
And my annual audit by the CAF HQ financial staff and their auditors will be next week, while all of this is going on.
Between A, B, and C, I expect to be pulling some long hours.
Gonzo.
For an example of what I consider to be “gonzo” content, consider this:
Tonight we had a lovely quarter moon and it was finally clear as a bell in Los Angeles. The moon was quite bright, directly overhead through the trees when I took Jessie out in the back yard for her “evening constitutional.”
Jessie finished peeing in her chosen spot deep in the shadows, then wandered into the bushes to sniff for squirrels, bunnies, skunks, and raccoon. I chose to admire the stars peeking through the pine trees and pray that Jessie didn’t find any squirrels, bunnies, skunks, or raccoon. (She didn’t, although someone in the neighborhood very nearby obviously met a skunk. WHEW!!)
When I looked back down at the yard, I was struck by how I could see the puddle where Jessie had peed. The outline of the puddle was very bright and clear as it reflected the moonlight perfectly. The whole yard was dark, but I could clearly see that one spot lit up. It was almost like I was seeing sunlight glinting off of the seas of Titan, visible through the methane haze. As the fluid soaked into the ground, the vision faded.
“Reflections On A Pee Puddle.” Gonzo.
Filed under CAF, Critters, Dogs, Space, Uncategorized
Flash Fiction: Kate And Max
This week’s Flash Fiction Challenge is another mashup. Three lists, three random numbers, the final “1,000 words or so” must contain those three things. 4, 3, and 10 mean that I need to include “a murder,” “a found dog,” and “a prison.” What could go wrong?
Now that it’s done, I fear that I haven’t done justice to the idea. The scene and the circumstance were clear in my head, but getting it into 1,000 words needs more work. Even coming in a bit long, it still feels rushed and contrived. Oh, well, c’est la vie.
As always, comments and constructive criticisms are appreciated.
KATE AND MAX
The cobblestones were slick with rain and while the sun must be ready to rise somewhere behind the crowded, ramshackle houses, there was nothing but grey gloom to light the alley. Rats paused in their examination of their refuse treasures to evaluate the threat that the girl might present, but she was small and frail, so they went back to their scavenging.
Kate sat down on her haunches, her back against the stone wall, oblivious to the vermin around her. Her thin clothing did little to protect her from the early morning chill and her tattered shawl was absorbing more of the rain that it was shedding. None of it mattered. Hidden in the shadows, she kept her gaze locked on the windows of the building across the road.
The windows had no glass or shutters to keep out the weather, only bars to keep in the human vermin within. Most of the bars were rusty, the masonry holding them in crumbling to dust. However, the building’s occupants rarely had the strength to stand to reach the window, let alone try to worry loose a bar or two in hopes of escape.
From a second story window Kate could hear wailing and screaming, the shouts echoing across the rough pavement and storefronts, down the empty streets, and presumably up to the ears of an indifferent God. Kate could not decide if the screams made her happy or not.
Suddenly a face appeared between the bars, hands desperately grabbing at the iron.
“It’s not my fault!” the prisoner screamed. “Help me! I didn’t mean to do it! It was an accident! You have to listen to me!” The pleading continued until finally the man weakened and fell silent, still sobbing as he held onto the bars.
From far down the street came the sound of nails clicking softly on the stones. Kate leaned out to look around the corner. Stopping underneath the prisoner’s window was a scrawny, emaciated dog, a short scrap of rope hanging around his neck. He had patches of fur missing and a number of scars, but did not seem to be an immediate threat to her.
The dog barked loudly twice, the sound bringing the prisoner’s head up. Peering down as best he could, the man tried to see the dog beneath him. “Max?” he called, “is that you? Max?”
Max responded with another sharp bark, then started to circle around in the street, looking for a way to get to his master. He kept looking up at the window, barking and whining, but unable to solve the puzzle to reach his side. As he made another pass around the street looking for help, he spotted Kate.
Max danced away a couple of steps, growling and cautious. Kate stood slowly, her knees stiff, and stepped out of the alley. In the street she faced Max, putting her arms out at her side in what she hoped was a non-threatening gesture.
“Hey, kid!” the prisoner shouted down. “Max, sit! Max! Sit!” Max sat, but didn’t take his eyes off Kate. “Kid, you have to help me! Go get your father or someone, make him come to listen to me, I’m innocent. They’re making a huge mistake!”
Kate let the shouts echo away before she turned her attention from Max up to the prison window above her. She seemed to be struggling through some internal battle, not sure if she should give in to sorrow or to anger.
“I don’t have a father,” she said, a quiver in her voice, which was just loud enough to carry to the second floor above her. “He was murdered two days ago by a drunken bum.” She let the words sink in, staring straight at the man. “He was murdered by you, and now I’m here to make sure they hang you!”
Her words hit him like lightning, leaving him whimpering, the sound growing into a wordless wail. Max looked up at his master, turned to walk closer to the building, and added his voice to the howling.
Kate never moved, watching him with hatred and disdain the whole time.
The prisoner’s head suddenly snapped up, listening. Frantic, he turned back to the window and looked down at Kate.
“Kid, they’re coming, I can hear them. Please, I didn’t mean to hurt your father, please believe me. It was all an accident. But now they’re coming and there’s no one left to take care of Max. He’s all I’ve got, he’s a good dog, but he’ll die out there on his own. I can’t bring your father back and I can’t save myself, but I need to save Max and want to help you if I can. So take Max, take care of him and he’ll take care of you, he’ll keep you safe. It’s all I can do now. Please!”
From the cell window came the sounds of a struggle as the man was grabbed by the guards. They wrestled to loosen his grip on the bars and drag him away. From the street, Kate could see his hand still gripping the bars as he fought his final fight.
“Max!” came the call from above. “Max, go with the girl! Stay with her! Go on, Max!” With the sound of several hard blows, the man’s hands disappeared from the window and his screams ceased.
Max had started barking at the sound of his name and kept barking as his master’s voice faded. But with the return of silence, Max stopped. He looked around, confused, uncertain about what to do next.
Kate looked at Max, her head spinning. This was the last thing she had expected of this morning. Consumed by her hatred and anger, left orphaned and destitute to make her life in the streets, she had not yet had time to think past today and the vengeance that the man’s execution might bring.
She had no way of taking care of Max. She didn’t even know how she was going to take care of herself.
What had he said? “He’ll take care of you, he’ll keep you safe.” Suddenly the magnitude of her plight and the grief of her loss crashed down on her. She collapsed against the side of the building, crying.
When she was able to regain some small measure of composure and look around, there was Max, a few feet away, staring at her.
Kate had no idea why her life had come to this, but she could see where she might need Max as much as he might need her. There were going to be many long, cold, and dangerous nights ahead as she figured out how to stay alive in the city, or how to get away to someplace better.
Slowly she extended her hand toward Max. He took a hesitant step toward her, sniffing her hand. When he licked it and took another step forward, Kate quickly scratched his head before grabbing his makeshift leash.
Standing, she quickly moved toward the comforting shadows of the alley, pulling Max along, to meet their fates together.
Wind
The Santa Ana winds are blowing.
Anyone who has lived in Southern California know what that means. High pressure over Nevada, strong offshore winds, adiabatic heating, and the wind funneling through canyons and mountain passes speeds up as it’s squeezed through.
It was starting to kick up when I left for the CAF hanger this morning.
Out in Camarillo, near the ocean, near the edge of a large plain to the south of many of those aforementioned canyons and mountain passes, it was blowing a steady 20 to 30 knots, occasionally getting up to 35 knots steady, with gusts on and off to 50+ knots. Many of us there (most of us pilots) thought that might be a low value for some of the more severe gusts.
Planes have a tendency to blow about in such winds, but we made it through the day with just a couple of worrisome moments, no actual emergencies or damage. But it kept everyone hopping. The rides we had scheduled for the day got re-scheduled, obviously. Gusts of 20 to 25 knots are “exciting” in a small plane. Gusts of 40 to 50 knots can be downright dangerous. Let the business jets and commercial airliners have the skies today.
It also turns the huge hangers (like where I spend most of my days) into drums as the thin metal siding rattles and vibrates. Even more attention-getting, when you get a gust that REALLY howls past, some of the little holes in the structure (around doors, where wiring and pipes enter the building, etc) can act like wind instruments, giving off some truly ungodly howls.
Jessie loves it when it blows like this.
We suspect that it’s because there are so many new and interesting smells coming from far away. To us it just means allergies and sandpaper dry skin — to her it’s a cornucopia of sensations that we can’t even imagine. Her nose twitches a mile a minute, her head swivels to listen to the wind in the trees and catch the next exotic scent. For a few minutes, she’s a puppy again and the whole world is hers to explore.
The Santa Ana winds are blowing.
Filed under CAF, Dogs, Los Angeles, Weather
We Love The Stars Too Fondly 