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As I was coming back from the bluff the other night I heard noises from Willy's home. I raced across the street, and there was my friend, on the other side of his screen door.
We were like Romeo and Juliet. Or Romeo and Romeo.
Finally the door opened, and we were reunited.
New intelligence on the squirrel situation just in, and my conspiracy hypothesis actually turns out to be correct! Apparently the government is engaging in squirrel eugenics.
It seems that the county has set poison distribution centers below the bluff because of concerns that the extensive squirrel tunnels were contributing to the destabilization of the hillside.
The photo above, taken yesterday shows a poison distribution center placed on the hillside between the bluff top and the fire road halfway down the bluff.
The photo below, taken in May, shows some of the tunnels that the squirrels made in the hillside.
Below is a photo of a squirrel enjoying the ocean view from the bluff on a lazy afternoon back in May, before he was targeted for extinction.
I can only hope that he or she enjoyed that day to its fullest.
Interesting graphics from Doctors Foster & Smith may help to resolve the ongoing question of whether I'm fat or just "built". In each group the top drawing is of a dog as seen from above, and the bottom drawing is a profile.
Very thin Thin Ideal Overweight Obese
Body score = 1 Body score = 3 Body score = 5 Body score =7 Body score = 9
Now let's see how I score according to this index:
Overhead Profile Less Flattering Profile
It looks like my body score is about a 6, placing me somewhere between "Ideal" and "Overweight." This may seem worrisome, but please refer back to my post regarding Stump, the winner of "Best in Show" at this year's Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. Stump would have a body score of 9 (Obese!) if the Foster & Smith schematics were applied. From this we may conclude that Ideal weight appears to be a moving target.
The graphics and accompanying explanation can be found here, on the Doctors Foster & Smith website.
There is nothing more rewarding than meeting with fans of my blog. Last night a party atmosphere prevailed here, as Thomas' friends Maggie,Mina, Melanie, Shaly, Ben and Dustin came over. I already knew Maggie and Dustin, of course, but the others were new friends.
We had a great time hanging out together in an informal setting, around the fire pit and in front of the dinosaur fountain. I am always amazed that college students would be so nice to me, a humble dog without even a high school degree.
Bottom line: The language of friendship and humor transcends culture, species and socio-economic status. We had a special evening discussing art, politics, bones, religion and travel. At the end, we posed for photographs to remember our special night together.
I know this is a crazy fantasy for a dog without any formal education, but I wish I could go to NYU with them. Perhaps I should look into getting my G.E.D. as a first step. Of course, I'd also have to look deep into my heart to see if I was really ready to leave my home and the bluffs.
I was in a funk for the past couple of days, due to a confluence of related factors.
First of all, there has been some very unkind criticism of my physique. Not unexpected, given a small but statistically significant recent increase in my weight -- but still hurtful. Some unfortunate photos did not help matters.
Does my family have nothing better to discuss than my size and what it portends for my long-term health? Apparently not. The house seems to be swarming with experts. Their consensus is that my tiny meals need to be cut back even further.
Then, the most unkind cut of all -- these so-called experts got nasty about my bone and the fattening nature of marrow. I was already feeling down about how the size of my bone had dwindled over the past couple of days to the point that it was really too little to gnaw on.
Last night they finally did the right thing: They gave me a new bone. I bonded with it for a couple of hours, and then I took it outside to bury it for the night.
I will say this: I slept much better knowing that I had a bone outside.
Yes, under the latest regime my meals are miniscule -- a few crumbs of rice and ground turkey -- but I can handle that as long as I have the bone. I appreciate my family members' trust in me, and I will not let them down by overdoing it with the bone. I will enjoy it judiciously, so that it lasts for at least two weeks, like the last one did. I will even try to act enthusiastic about the exercise program that they've been developing for me.
Because they do have a point about my weight gain. I'm still young, and this middle-aged spread is unacceptable, particularly since I'm already dealing with a serious health risk from my seizure disorder.
I have a lot to live for. I'm going to slim down, with my bone by my side.
Yes -- that's Winnie and Trudie, just back from their Colorado vacation. They said that Trudie had had some health issues while they were gone. As Nelson Mandela's wife commented the other day, it's hard to deal with the indignities of extreme old age. At Trudie's age, just showing up is a real accomplishment.
Winnie had missed the ocean, so I went with her and a bulldog named Buddha to check out the view.
The ocean air seemed to have restorative power. I think I saw an added buoyancy in Winnie's step as we returned.
One of our most esteemed bluff group members, Sadie, died tragically in May after a brief illness. Her family and her sibling, Harry, were blindsided with grief.
Preoccupied as I have been with my bone, I can't completely let the squirrel thing rest. It's hard to let go of something that has been so important to me. My colleagues at the bluff seem equally bemused by the squirrels' departure.
As Rosie and I were discussing the issue the other day, I took it upon myself to go down the hill to search for clues.
After a little while, Rosie came down and nosed around too.
Comparing notes after a bit, we found that neither of us had had any luck.
The Michael Jackson events of the past two weeks have led me to muse about the consequences of being a public figure. Yes, Mr. Jackson was odd in the extreme, but as a public figure myself I have empathy for him.
Now that I've been focusing on my bone, I've been shedding my clinginess and neediness. I find that I've been becoming more of an archetypal masculine self-actualized dog. Sort of a Robert Bly dog, if you will. Soon I will be involved in drum circles, no doubt.
I received a new bone a few days ago, and since then I have been very activated with the task of hiding it. Thank goodness my squirrel work is on the wane, because this bone work is very demanding and occupies most of my waking hours.
Some of my hiding places are indoors, under couches or cushions or bedcovers. I rotate between them frequently, because you can never be too careful.
My favorite spots, though, are all outdoors, in the back yard or along the fence on the north side of the house. I carry my bone out nonchalantly, subtly slip off to bury it, and then return casually. I don't think anyone notices, although it's possible that my dirty nose gives me away.
Its not easy doing bone work, dealing with the lack of understanding and appreciation from my family. Each time I dig my bone up from my outdoor hiding places and bring it, covered with a nice patina of dirt, inside to enjoy on a sofa or a rug, some family member grabs and cleans it off before returning it to me. Which just emphasizes the importance of keeping it safely hidden.
