A Plea for a Great Dog

Today, I'm praying for my sister's dog.

Sam was old and in bad shape when my sister found him four years ago, or more accurately, he showed up and decided she was his owner.  He's blind, mostly deaf, fat and slow.  He is also a large furry beloved to her family.  Samwise (his full name) lives up to his Tolkien namesake. He stays, he's loyal, and he means to for all time.   Sam suffers through toddlers who love him deeply as only toddlers can (and all that that sort of love entails).  He also is simply a simple comfort and has been a friend during difficult and lonely dark times, as only the best dogs are. 

Samwise remains the only canine my oldest son has ever thought awesome. Dogs are allergic to my son. They see him and start barking.  I'm not sure why, but I know it has been true ever since he was 5 and a neighbor friend's adopted dog jumped into our minivan and scared the bejeebers out of him.  After that, stray dogs began following us in parking lots, zeroing in on him.  He's never been bitten, but he can see their hostility and it is decidedly evident to everyone else. Sam was and remains the exception, and Sam is now very sick. 

So we're praying to Saint Francis, who loves old dogs that gratefully thump their tails with all the energy it requires for a few pats and can give you the understanding look that only truly good and old dogs can give, that shows an empathy that surpasses the ages and a "You're still here?" bewilderment at the same time. 

I'm hoping Sam has a bit more time to spend with his family here because it's never a good time to say goodbye to a true and loyal pet.  So if you don't mind the littleness of this request (and I know there are plenty of harder worse things in the world to pray about), I'm asking for a quick petition, because the world is hard enough, and the blunter sharper edges are made better when dogs like Sam are still here, lying on the rug, thumping his tail.

Marie Antoinette's Legislative Tips for the Current Congress

Feeling darn firey lately, I put that energy to use and called my congressmen to tell them not to vote for the Cap and Trade bill currently being whipped to fruition by Nancy Pelosi et. al.

Why did I call?

Because I'm frankly tired of a congress spending money hand over fist without ever bothering to read the damn things they are voting on. Is it too much to ask that they read before they rubber stamp via their party affiliation?

When I was a kid, I loved making cakes from boxes but I didn't want to bother with the stinkin' directions, I wanted the cake. For me it was all about the end result, but I was impatient and unwilling to do what it took to get there, so there were a lot of cakes that 1) lacked structure 2) lacked significant ingredients and 3) got fed to the dog. Until I took the time to examine the directions --at my Mother's insistence (thanks Mom!), I continued to churn out crumble cake after flat cake after inedible reported to be cake. It wasted money. It wasted time. It wasted cake.

Here's an idea, make passage of every bill dependent upon everyone who votes, having listened to it be read aloud --it would slow legislation to a crawl but we'd spend a lot less, or at least, we'd know what we were spending the money on, because the bills would be smaller and more discreet but fully disclosed. And then,maybe we can have our cake and maybe eat it too.

Otherwise, we'll be left with something that isn't even healthy for dogs.

Call your representatives. Stomp up and down. Let them know at least, we require reflection and discernment before they spend more of our future earnings. They work for us, at least for now.

Moon Woman Speaketh

Some day, when aliens land on Earth, the president will have need of me.

I know it seems odd that a mother of eight children would have found the time to master an alien language without formal training at some university, but it seems I have somehow acquired this gift gratis. I know, because sometimes, I have spoken to my children in what I perceived to be plain English, asking them to get dressed in the morning, or at night, to sit at the table, to put away their clothing, pack up their back packs, and turn off lights and these simple normal every day actions go undone.

Sometimes, even as I have been speaking, “Don’t hit your sister!” and the child is looking at me, he or she chooses to still punch with abandon as if I said nothing. I can say “No! No! No! No! No!” and it avails me naught.

Since I know my children are intelligent, and that they are generally good kids, I can only conclude the fault is mine. I must somehow not be making myself clear. Thus I have determined that unconsciously, occasionally, I slip into some weird “moon man language,” which my children are unable to decipher.

Moon man language sounds to the adult ear, like English, but apparently conveys either no meaning, or the opposite of the speaker’s intent. For example, “We’re having dinner soon.” translates as far as I can tell to “Please help your self to a soda, an ice cream and a few pieces of left over fried chicken right now.” “We have to run an errand. I need you to get in the car.” means “Find a secret shelter immediately, remove your shoes and if possible, lose them. Make no sound and hope the danger passes by.”

“Clean your room.” elicits an aggressive response, that I think means what they hear is, “I have come to kill your dreams and destroy your future. Flee if you would live.”

I am working on the reverse orders, but so far have had no luck in actively initiating my fluency in Moon Man. “Have a snack.” does not have a corresponding translation. Neither does, “You can watch TV.” nor “Does anyone want pizza for dinner?”

To begin to master Moon man for that eventual day when the commander in chief calls, I practice. Since I can’t control when I begin speaking, I have to create situations that will allow the talent to flower. One method I have found successful, is to actually choose to speak gibberish to my children when they are peppering me with questions.
“What’s for dinner?” a child asks as he grabs an apple.

“Repast for thine evening’s pleasure is perchance a fowl most pleasant, roasted with gracious loving care and infused in a honey soy emulsified marinade to create a mahogany sweet and salty outer crust, served with wild grains that have been softened by a chemical reaction with evaporated H20, and fresh stalks of brocollini, prepared in the same manner, with pasteurized juices brought forth from a bovine as your beverage.”

“What?”

“Chicken, broccoli and brown rice. Milk to drink.”
“Cool, Mom.”

“Set the table please.”
“I’m going next door to see if I can walk Mr. Chips for the Browns. Be back in five.”

Hmmm. Set the table meant walk a dog. I think I’ll start a book of useful phrases.

I wonder how take me to your leader would translate? Probably something like “Please turn on the tv and watch until your brains ooze out.”

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