Friday, February 20, 2009
Obi Haikus
Obi is nappingSlightly re-arranged:
Obi will be barking soon
Obi is barking
Obi is barking
Obi will be napping soon
Obi is napping
Insider's Guide to Obi's Sleep Positions
Alligator dog - this is when he is resting on his stomach, his full five feet length in a straight position. His long snout and large black nose gives this pose its name.
Crescent dog - here we see him curled slightly in the shape of Pillsbury's finest.
Circle dog - here he's tightly curled, tail to nose, in a circular position.
Carpetbagger Dog - not a pose but a tendency to relocate to where you were sleeping after you get up.
Flat dog* - here he lies on his side (colloquial usage: flatamaran).
Centerfold dog - he's flat on his back, package to the wind.
And some non-sleeping descriptions:
Necktie dog - sits alert his with his neck craned as if wearing a necktie.
Begasaurus Rex - self-explanatory.
The Flying Nun - ears up! (see pictorial here).
Crazy dog - occurs especially after baths, runs wildly to and fro.
Bucking Bronco - occurs during Crazy dog phase; begins to buck.
* - my favorite
Crescent dog - here we see him curled slightly in the shape of Pillsbury's finest.
Circle dog - here he's tightly curled, tail to nose, in a circular position.
Carpetbagger Dog - not a pose but a tendency to relocate to where you were sleeping after you get up.
Flat dog* - here he lies on his side (colloquial usage: flatamaran).
Centerfold dog - he's flat on his back, package to the wind.
And some non-sleeping descriptions:
Necktie dog - sits alert his with his neck craned as if wearing a necktie.
Begasaurus Rex - self-explanatory.
The Flying Nun - ears up! (see pictorial here).
Crazy dog - occurs especially after baths, runs wildly to and fro.
Bucking Bronco - occurs during Crazy dog phase; begins to buck.
* - my favorite
Interview with our Dog
A few questions for Obi while on a hike:
Me: I couldn't help notice that you have this disturbing tendency to seek out and smell...well, let's call it manure. Why?
Obi: Why do you spend so much time trying to figure things out?
Me: I don't know, why?
Obi: Because humans have the best brains on earth. So that's what you do, you use your brains. We, on the other hand, have the best noses. I ask you: Have you ever heard of drug-sniffing humans? Drug-sniffing cats? Drug-sniffing rhinos?
Me: No I have not.
Obi: That's 'cuz humans use their strength and dogs use theirs. Wait-a-sec - oh joy! - I think I just found some scat!
Top Domestic Threats...
...as written by our dog Obi:
1) Daily incursions on our property by driver driving on wrong side of vehicle. Stops in front of house briefly, I bark and he moves on. He becomes so terrified he doesn't come back for ten minutes and then he stops, paralyzed, on other side of the street until I bark him down the road. My master calls him "the mailman" and seems eager to chase him off too. He runs out to the road to inspect the scene of the crime. Oddly, he opens a small box and takes something out.
2) Weekly incursions on our property by large tank-like conveyance probably in league with the aforementioned mailman. This threat comes in a pair, as if realizing it takes more than just one person to fend off the likes of me. But they are particularly audacious: They steal from my master! They take something my master calls "garbage" though I call it a buffet of still delicious food items, such as nearly empty soup cans, steak bones and stale bread.
3) Quarterly incursions by a man wearing a mask to hide his identity. He goes around with a hose spraying my yard. This is the most outrageous insult and I bark and bark. If I were outside I'd make mincemeat out of him. My master calls him "the chemlawn guy". I'm glad when he steps in my poop.
The Scare
Our “bright” dog, so labeled by a vet assistant, had swallowed eight to twelve inches of dental floss. I have a hunch he could've eaten far more without ill effect since he routinely “dumpster dives” and consumes the contents of indoor garbage cans. There’s often been floss in this particular can but it was only this time I’d caught him and I sense he's like the drunk driver who got caught the seven-hundredth time he'd driven drunk. We tried to induce vomiting with hydrogen peroxide but he’s a big dog and is able to fend off bodily assaults that would’ve had smaller dogs puking their proverbial guts out.
Two days later, after noting a rare loss of appetite and an episode of (belated) vomiting, we took him to the emergency vet. They took x-rays of our dog and our wallets and found both with excesses that needed to be purged. Obi’s was a suspicious “gas pocket”. Now, since the colon is the natural environment of gas, it seemed a stretch even at the time that he should be kept overnight for observation and fluids. Reports have it that he barked quite loudly and crisply at 3am. He seemed nonplussed at all the fuss. “Why am I here?” asked Admiral Stockdale in the ‘92 vice-presidential debate and one imagines Obi saying the same thing with more cause. The crisis was over as soon as it’d begun and a day later we were laughing about the “$600 fart”. (I was laughing because I wasn’t paying for it; Obi's officially my wife's dog.)
But fortunes changed as they often do. Our laughter was shortlived after receiving a disturbing phone call a few days later. The vet had sent the x-rays to a radiologist as they routinely do. The radiologist noticed an alarming mass which the emergency room vet had not the training to have noticed. An ultrasound was called for, and Obi was taken to his regular vet for that. This vet said the large mass was next to either the spleen or liver – only a specialist could tell for sure. Naturally we assumed it was a tumor as that seemed the likely explanation though son Aaron came up with an extremely plausible one: “it’s probably a sock.”
So Friday my wife took him to the specialist for a second ultrasound and to possibly take a biospy. But about 11:15am she called me at work sobbing jubilant tears -- the mass was just part of his spleen! It was not only beyond our expectations it was more than we dared hope for. German Shepherds have larger spleens than normal, and apparently Obi’s had “folded over,” at least during the xray & ultrasound, making it look like there was a foreign mass next to a smaller-sized spleen.
Two days later, after noting a rare loss of appetite and an episode of (belated) vomiting, we took him to the emergency vet. They took x-rays of our dog and our wallets and found both with excesses that needed to be purged. Obi’s was a suspicious “gas pocket”. Now, since the colon is the natural environment of gas, it seemed a stretch even at the time that he should be kept overnight for observation and fluids. Reports have it that he barked quite loudly and crisply at 3am. He seemed nonplussed at all the fuss. “Why am I here?” asked Admiral Stockdale in the ‘92 vice-presidential debate and one imagines Obi saying the same thing with more cause. The crisis was over as soon as it’d begun and a day later we were laughing about the “$600 fart”. (I was laughing because I wasn’t paying for it; Obi's officially my wife's dog.)
But fortunes changed as they often do. Our laughter was shortlived after receiving a disturbing phone call a few days later. The vet had sent the x-rays to a radiologist as they routinely do. The radiologist noticed an alarming mass which the emergency room vet had not the training to have noticed. An ultrasound was called for, and Obi was taken to his regular vet for that. This vet said the large mass was next to either the spleen or liver – only a specialist could tell for sure. Naturally we assumed it was a tumor as that seemed the likely explanation though son Aaron came up with an extremely plausible one: “it’s probably a sock.”
So Friday my wife took him to the specialist for a second ultrasound and to possibly take a biospy. But about 11:15am she called me at work sobbing jubilant tears -- the mass was just part of his spleen! It was not only beyond our expectations it was more than we dared hope for. German Shepherds have larger spleens than normal, and apparently Obi’s had “folded over,” at least during the xray & ultrasound, making it look like there was a foreign mass next to a smaller-sized spleen.
Beer Drinker Extraordinaire
Our dog loves beer. I can’t tell if he likes Beck’s or Guinness better though I suspect he’s more of a quantity man than quality. The best chance for him to catch a swill is at the very end or beginning of a bottle since this is when I’m most likely to notice his presence. Yet he sits expectantly throughout, eyes unblinking, not missing a move I make. He’s never unaware of my presence. I sometimes suspect he knows me better than myself, and in his watching me more closely than I do my master his raptness carries with it the hint of reproachment.
A slow leak of saliva develops from the side his mouth but he is oblivious; he doesn’t wipe it with the cuff of his shirt or his paw-hand as a human might. He holds his ears at half-mast and I marvel he can do so seemingly indefinitely without fatigue. If there are muscles in those ears they are well trained. This is half-mast syndrome is known around our house as the “Flying Nun" look, for obvious reasons.
A slow leak of saliva develops from the side his mouth but he is oblivious; he doesn’t wipe it with the cuff of his shirt or his paw-hand as a human might. He holds his ears at half-mast and I marvel he can do so seemingly indefinitely without fatigue. If there are muscles in those ears they are well trained. This is half-mast syndrome is known around our house as the “Flying Nun" look, for obvious reasons.
Dreams & Dances
Obi rattles his legs against the hardwood floors when he’s dreaming. I think it’s funny that all animals dream. Perhaps it’s a “species prejudice” (they have issues too!) but I figure they have less call for dreaming than humans. My understanding is that dreams help resolve the conflicts of the day, help tie things up for purposes of BMH (“Better Mental Health”). So naturally I’m wondering what my dog is dreaming about. Near as I can tell, he sleeps the whole day so there’s not much to resolve. I wonder if he has repressed memory syndrome concerning a painful early childhood incident of an absentee father or having a squirrel picked before him in some sporting event.
_________
He is never far from us. Those intelligent shepherd eyes never miss a thing we do, especially if it involves the acquisition of food. He’s laying on his side and his back paws are so large they look like a fallen deer’s hind legs tied together after the hunt. He avoids the throw rug and lays on the wood floor as if his body continually stores up heat and requires the cool floor to drowse.
_________
Our dog has some sort of tickle spot on his back such that scratching it results in his doing an Irish jig on the kitchen floor. His paws come with nails which makes it sound like a tap dance. We sing: "doggy-dance, doggy-dance, dog-e-dance!"
He is never far from us. Those intelligent shepherd eyes never miss a thing we do, especially if it involves the acquisition of food. He’s laying on his side and his back paws are so large they look like a fallen deer’s hind legs tied together after the hunt. He avoids the throw rug and lays on the wood floor as if his body continually stores up heat and requires the cool floor to drowse.
Our dog has some sort of tickle spot on his back such that scratching it results in his doing an Irish jig on the kitchen floor. His paws come with nails which makes it sound like a tap dance. We sing: "doggy-dance, doggy-dance, dog-e-dance!"
Not on my bed please
sparkles in the glancing light
from each jowl a collecting globe
--like drooping exclamation points
and I own mixed emotions
I would they fall,
these suspenseful stalactites,
but not on my bed.
Dogs & Pony Shows
Whenever we come home we always find our dog waiting for us and always with at least one of his toys in his mouth. We judge his enthusiasm for our return by how many stuffed animals he has. We occasionally get "two shows" and on exceptionally rare occasions "three shows". We've also taught our 118-lb animal to do a few basic tricks such as shaking hands and giving us a high-five.
There's nothing more exciting than pleasing God and that excitement is most palpable when it happens in matters where heretofore He hasn’t seen much obedience. But the trick is to never tire of showing God the same "toy", or showing him the same ol’ "trick". Our dog never tires of shaking hands. And that we’ve learned to obey in one matter doesn’t mean that obedience there can then be discarded after doing it once or thrice or a million times.
There's nothing more exciting than pleasing God and that excitement is most palpable when it happens in matters where heretofore He hasn’t seen much obedience. But the trick is to never tire of showing God the same "toy", or showing him the same ol’ "trick". Our dog never tires of shaking hands. And that we’ve learned to obey in one matter doesn’t mean that obedience there can then be discarded after doing it once or thrice or a million times.
The Dog who Chased Turkey & Deer Thinking Them Ducks & Dogs
O righteous dog
those egregious turkeys
and bounding killdeers
who tramp the mission path!
Flush, Obi
those winged Thanksgiving dinners
and antlered Hopalong Cassidys
who thrush the brush
of our wooded retreat.
Flush, my boy
the strangers in the 'hood
the dogs in seersucker suits,
the ducks with jangly necks.
A Vomitory
Our dog is not a reader of Aquinas, and especially eschews the virtue of moderation. We found a couple stray pieces of paper that had once made up the cover of four (4) sticks of butter, one pound in all. Doggie ate said butter. The proof came a few hours later, in an epic vomitalia that in sheer volume was something I had never witnessed by man or beast or the Minotaurus college student. A few hours and one steam-cleaning later, the carpet still stank. Carpet was summarily dismissed from service.
One pound of butter = lingering offensive smell to our guests = a new rug needed. The price of gluttony is steep indeed. Said dog was proffered butter a few hours later. He just said no.
One pound of butter = lingering offensive smell to our guests = a new rug needed. The price of gluttony is steep indeed. Said dog was proffered butter a few hours later. He just said no.
8-ball
Obi’s lip is made up of a cluster of bean-like protuberances. I touch one of them as he sleeps and he wakes, his eyelids open, and I watch as his eyeball slowly rolls back from the heavens, like a Magic 8-ball saying slowly coming to the fore.
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