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Dispatches From Dystopia

~ "What man by worrying can add one cubit to his span of years?"

Dispatches From Dystopia

Category Archives: Dogs

Things I Did Today

27 Thursday Jun 2019

Posted by David in Dogs, food

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Tags

#Dentistry. #Sleep

Got up. Turned on TV. Fixed J’s lunch. Watched Amtrak #98 Northbound Silver Meteor pass through Ashland on the way to New York. Turned to Cricket New Zealand vs Pakistan.

Decided to buy baked goods. Left home for store but went to Mass first. The priest is from Uganda, so understanding him in room with terrible acoustics is sketchy. But, hey, I went to Mass.

I did go to the store, bought lots of fruit. I came home, put the groceries away, then went to AA. I was getting sleepy. My friend Colette was there with her dog.* The dog is very sweet. He is an Italian hunting dog, a spinone. (Look breed up) He is gorgeous and sweet. He licked my face. 🌟. Went to another store to buy J the chocolate mini croissants she likes.

I came home, had a cat nap. The I went to the dentist. He told me teeth #31 and #18, far lower molars, need to come out, because keeping them clean has become increasingly difficult. We want to avoid risk of infection to jaw bone.

Made appointment for periodontist to extract them.

Went to dinner, had street tacos, carnitas. They were good.

Came home. Realizing I’d been struggling through day on 3-4 hours sleep, I fell asleep. I woke up after 2 hour nap. I am watching the British couple who trek around Britain looking for abandoned railway stations or the sites where they once stood. Very nice engaging couple.

Now I have to get sleepy again, real fast.

*Colette, who looks like Julia Roberts, has a penchant for finding off-the-wall dog breeds. Her last dog was a catahoula, a Cajun hound dog. New words today: spinone catahoula

Artificial Intelligence

23 Sunday Jun 2019

Posted by David in Dogs, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

#fArtificial_Intelligence #Dogs

I’m thinking humans are beyond hope for artificial intelligence. Too much of a deficit to start from.

Dogs, on the other hand, could greatly benefit. They could use AI and robotics to operate sophisticated machinery. A dog could operate a little robot to chase the postman on a rainy day. With artificial intelligence a dog could stick his head out the window and drive the car at the same time.

Therapy Dog & The Silver Bullet Stretch.

07 Tuesday May 2019

Posted by David in Dogs

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

#Stretch #Therapy Dog

As I sit with my ice pack across my shoulder, I feel encouraged that the pinched nerve drama is entering the final act. As dramas go, it is turning out to be comedy, because there is a happy ending. I’m not going to die and I am keeping all my limbs and their respective functions (insert smiley face) ☺.

What has helped is a stretch. Matt the PT showed me one that stretches the right muscles, restoring the way it ought to be. It is not a “1 and done” proposition, but all I need to do is stretch it every hour or so for ten minutes. I’m working up to that ten minutes.

The other magic aspect of PT wss the appearance of a therapy service dog. She belongs to one of the other patients. Her job is help people chill out, by simply being a sweet and attentive dog. I petted her and she leaned into my legs as if she had known me forever. Just remarkable the difference this dog made.

Speaking of History

05 Thursday Jul 2018

Posted by David in Dogs

≈ 4 Comments

I’ve been watching a lot of newsreel footage from 1914. Germany’s Kaiser, Wilhelm II, was frequently filmed with dachshunds. Quite handsome little mutts, I must admit. His great niece, Elizabeth II of The United Kingdom, is known for her corgis.

I don’t know where this is going. Marie Antoinette allegedly took her papillon with her to the guillotine, Charles I was said to take his Cavalier King Charles Spaniel with him for his meeting with the headsman.

Useless information. I concede. Now you know.

Birthday Extravaganza

24 Tuesday Jan 2017

Posted by David in Birthday, Cuba, Dogs, food, Relationships

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

birthdays, Dogs, Tres Leches Cake

Last week I was going to write about my birthday and how I was born on the same day as Confederate General Thomas J. (Stonewall) Jackson. Unless you are a military historian or a Civil War “buff”, he is of little interest. (Just What the Hell is a “buff” anyway?) He was born on 21 January 1824 in Clarksburg, West Virginia.  He was wounded in a friendly fire accident after his brilliant victory at Chancellorsville and died of infection a few days later. His last words, “Let us cross over the river and rest in the shade of the trees.” inspired the title for the Hemingway novel  Across river And Into The Trees.

I thought I would give the Civil War, Robert E. Lee, and Stonewall Jackson a rest, and share about my birthday in real time.  The Trump Inauguration set the stage for my 66th birthday, just as the Nixon Inauguration (where on I registered for the draft) marked my 18th, and the Kennedy Inauguration marked my 10th.  There are others, of course. Last Saturday, 21 January, I went to my discussion class on St Thomas Aquinas.  Not to worry, as interesting and important as it may be, we will not discuss Thomistic Philosophy today.  The real fun on my birthday came yesterday when  #2 Son CD came by with Aero, his Dobie/German Shepherd mix dog. We had to take some soup to my stepmother and we wanted to get lunch, so we thought we would leave him in the yard.

#2 Son says, “He’s a real escape artist, but I guess he”ll be OK for a little while.”  Nothing quite like a cloud of doubt cast over a decision.  We decide we will get take out on the lunch at a nice Cuban restaurant so we won’t be gone too long. We drop the soup off, chat a bit with Dorothy, and head over to Kuba Kuba II. We order a Cuban sandwich, a codfish cake sandwich, coconut risotto cakes, and tres leches cake for dessert.  We meet the baker of the tres leches cake, the mother of the owner. She is a refugee from the Castro Regime, a fellow parishoner at St Benedict whom I had never met, an all round nice lady, and one heck of a good baker.

When we get home, we are relieved to find  Aero still in the yard but very muddy, and the makings of a very nice hole just under the gate. After rubbing the mud off Aero, we begin our lunch.  The coconut risotto cakes were to die for,  golden crisp on the outside, creamy on the inside.  Yummy. I had the codfish sandwich, another delight, #2 son the Cuban sandwich. The sandwiches came with platanos, fried plantains, slightly sweet and subtly tasty. The tres leches cake was sublime, as if sweetened condensed milk was suspended in flour. The icing was this frothy sweetness, a slightly more substantial meringue.   Bottom line: Cuba’s loss was Richmond’s gain.  Had Fidel Castro not been the murdering SOB that he was, Senora M would not be here.

We spent the afternoon watching Aero fully revel in his dogness.  He would run around, sit, lie down, eat platanos and bits of roast pork.   Going back in the yard, we watched Aero bury the pig ear I gave him and inspected the hole he dug.  He could get his head out but not his shoulder.  We decide to fill in the hole another day. I cleaned the glass patio door with Windex, washed the mud-stained towel in hot water with bleach. and was prepared to give Mrs CorC? a redacted version of Aero’s visit.  However…

Just as Mrs CorC? arrives home, our neighbor is out walking her whippet and decides to make neighborly conversation. Neighbor Lady says to my wife

“You don’t have a German Shepherd, do you?”

“That’s my stepson’s dog. They came by this afternoon.”

“Well,  he was trying to dig his way out of your backyard. He almost got out”

This bit of idle chit chat sabotaged my plan to leave Aero’s burrowing escapade out of my recounting of his afternoon visit to Mrs CorC?.  I do believe women band together whenever they think a husband is trying to put something over on a wife. A Sixth Sense directs a woman to inform an unsuspecting wife of an attempted bamboozle by a not-clever-enough husband. It’s part of the sport of  marriage and relationships. Any upset over an attempted cover-up was dispelled by the slice of tres leches cake I saved for Mrs CorC?.  All’s well that ends well.

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