Dear Readers,
I know I disappointed you last week with my lack of essays… but, it is for a good reason. You see, I’ve been in the process of moving to my new and improved website:
http://www.atticusuncensored.com
Let me tell you, it has been a struggle for me technically, but I’m coming up to speed. Please go to my new website, where pawsitive vibes abound! See you there…
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My cousin Hannah, is quite the movie aficionado. She is one of the few canines I know, who actually pays attention and engages in a movie. Like me, she’s open to all kinds of films; drama, comedy, action and science fiction. Note: Neither of us appreciates foreign films, unless dubbed, as our reading skills are slightly lacking. (Us dogs who can read, do so very slowly.)
Hannah has been obsessed with one particular movie of late; Lassie (not the original, the 1994 remake). She likes to view her prized dvd while lounging on her humans’ bed, her head hanging over the edge. She gets as close as she can to the television, without falling off the bed. Hannah’s favorite part of the movie, which she has been talking about incessantly, is when Lassie plays in a field with sheep.
You see, Hannah is an Australian Shepherd, and, innately, she yearns to corral sheep. So, the scenes of Lassie frolicking with a herd of sheep, is delicious torture for Hannah. She barks at the TV, directing Lassie in how to better herd those little mutton chops, and, every time, she gets frustrated that Lassie continues with his unsuccessful patterns.
I spent an afternoon with Hannah last week, and tried to explain to her that movies are permanent, and eternally destined to play the same story, the same way. Although Hannah is bright in some regards, she has a disconnect when it comes to the concept of film, and technology in general.
I, myself, enjoy the repetition and consistency that a movie brings. There are certain movies I can watch repeatedly, and never tire of them. For obvious reasons, I can watch To Kill a Mockingbird over and over again. I think that my namesake and I have many similar personality traits, with the exception of one. Atticus Finch and I are both dedicated, fair, respectable, and, dare I say, brilliant. But Scout’s dad is also stoic, and, primarily, a serious man. This is where we differ.
In addition to the highbrow qualities that I possess, I am also playful, silly, often mischievous, fun-loving and spontaneous. Sort of like a canine Ferris Bueller, but with more dignity. Maybe my stage name should be Ferricus. Or, better yet, I’ll use that as my secret, superhero nom. Don’t panic folks, Ferricus will rescue you! Yes, I like it very much.
Other flicks I watch repeatedly, and love every viewing, include: all Harry Potter installments (but Harry needs to ditch the owl in favor of a dog, at some point), Breaking Away (I love the friendships and their ferocious tenacity), Dogma (I mistakenly thought it was about dogs, but no—it’s much better!), and, for mama, anything with that bloke Clive Owen.
What are some of your favorite movies? You know, the ones you can watch a hundred times and still adore…
I just love the 4th of July! I love the pageantry of a parade, the smell of meat grilling on a barbeque, the patriotic music, and, this is strange for a dog, but I also love the fireworks. I spent my holiday weekend espousing my puppy patriotism in a number of ways.
As you, dear readers, know by now, I am a patriotic and political pup, and am keen on participating in our democratic process. I’ve mentioned, in previous posts, my longing for the right to vote, but, sadly, Freedom Fido (committee promoting canine suffrage) has not yet taken root. Given the opportunity, I would vote in every election, unlike a certain gubernatorial candidate, who’s trying her hardest to buy the election, but never votes.
Since my rights as a canine citizen cannot be fully realized (yet), I did the next best thing; encouraged humans to exercise their rights, and register to vote. Wilbur and I, along with mama, were honored to walk with our Congressional candidate, Dr. Ami Bera, in a local parade this weekend. This precocious pooch has been involved with campaigns in the past, and I feel very strongly about this particular race and candidate.
Dr. Bera is running against incumbent Congressman Dan Lungren in California’s 3rd district. In this dog’s opinion, it is imperative that Mr. Lungren be replaced, and I am proud to be supporting a strong, opposing candidate. Dr. Bera was the Associate Dean of Admissions for UC Davis School of Medicine, and was Chief Medical Officer for Sacramento County. “I am running for Congress because I know things can be different. Together, we can change our course and begin to create a more compassionate, sensible, and sustainable America”, says Bera.
Compassionate and sensible are two qualities lacking in our current representation. For the past 2 years, this Lungren cat, who is supposedly working for us (his constituents), has not been a part of the process. When a Congressman (or an entire party), decides to become obstructionist, just saying “no” to everything out of resentment towards our democratically elected President, he is not serving the community who sent him to Washington. Political debate and discourse are appropriate in the process, but to consistently sit on the side and declare “no”, regardless of legislation, is not working on our behalf.
The humans in my district pay our representative’s salary, his secure retirement package, and excellent healthcare. For that price, we deserve a thinking-person, who will work the process and stay engaged, for the betterment of our district. Regardless of position, this dog feels that it’s crucial to have a Congressperson who will work for their pay, and Dr. Bera is certainly not deterred by hard work.
Though my paws were getting hot on the pavement, I was one proud pup, walking with my future Congressman in the parade. Friends, I encourage you and your humans to get informed, get exited, and get out the vote for candidates who are willing to work for their paychecks. Even Wilbur and I understand, that if we don’t do our work (stop barking, sit, stay, dance…), we don’t receive treats. Just saying “no”, without thought, is not working…
This canine is continually curious… My curiosity has turned toward the technical, and I am teaching myself to make videos. It takes one patient pup to learn new software, but I am up for the task!
The past couple of weeks, I’ve had mama help me film my friends at the dogpark, with the hope of putting together a playful video. I must say, the editing process is time consuming, and has drastically cut into my nap time, but I persevere. Once I edited the images, I had the huge decision of what music to choose… ah, the options are endless! After much consideration, I chose an oldie that screams “summer!”. So, dear friends, enjoy my dogpark fun, Jungle Love style…
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I get along with my siblings, Wilbur and Bella, famously, and assumed this was the norm. But, I’m finding, especially within the human population, that sibling relationships are sometimes tense, fractured, and, in the most extreme, severed. I’m not referring to childhood sibling disputes and rivalries, instead, I’m noticing this trend with adult sibs. And, from what this pup has gathered, many of these familial relationships rapidly disintegrate, after the passing of a parent.
Unfortunately, I’ve witnessed this in my own human family, but, in speaking with others, this seems to be a much more common occurrence than I would have thought. I’ve concluded, through my research of this phenomenon (talking to mama’s friends’ dogs & buds at the dogpark), that many adult children seem to demonstrate their grief over the loss of a parent, in destructive ways. Deconstructing lifelong alliances with their adult siblings.
It appears to me, that human parents, regardless of the ages of their children, are truly the glue that binds a family together. When one, or both, parents die, the glue can begin to dissolve for some human packs. And, as the adhesive thins, I’ve noticed a tendency towards misbehavior. The common filter that most humans have in place, that prevents them from saying or doing things that are not in the best interest of the family, can evaporate along with the parent.
Could it be, that with the loss of a parent, the grown human children are no longer concerned with parental approval, so, they now have no concern for the consequences of inappropriate behavior? Or, is it the pain, and grief, that cause these humans to want to isolate? And, it becomes easier to isolate since they’ve pushed away their siblings, by treating them rudely, and coldly, and, ultimately, fracturing relationships.
We don’t often see this type of thing within the dog world, so it’s baffling to me that it’s such a prevalent response to parental death for humans. I’m extremely close with my brother and sister (note: we’re all adopted), and I cannot image a scenario where we would abandon each other. In fact, I’ve heard uncountable stories of multiple-pet families, where one pet passes away, and it’s sibling gives up life shortly thereafter. It’s because of how closely bonded we canine sibs are; we cannot stand to go on living without our brother, or sister, at our side.
Dear readers, once again, I implore you, to just think like a dog. Through life’s traumas and dramas, try to remember to hold family close, regardless of circumstances. If you have any pup-like tendencies, this shouldn’t be difficult. I will leave you with a quote. Granted, this one’s been overused (and slightly abused), but, I think it’s perfect, and from an unlikely source, which, for some reason, makes it more poignant. So, I bark the words of Rodney King: “Can we all get along?”
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Dear readers, I learned of some very upsetting news this weekend. My cousin Sofia, was the victim of a home invasion! She’s so traumatized, that she can barely speak of the incident. But, since we’re family, I cajoled her into opening up to me.
You see, Sofia’s dad (uncle Marty), had just departed for work one day last week, leaving Sofia safe and sound in her comfortable home. Or so he thought…. After her daddy had left for his day, Sofia was just getting situated on her favorite pillow, ready for a little morning siesta, when a large “pop”, interrupted her rest.
Immediately following the loud snap, a rock, (actually, a decorative lava rock), was hurled through the glass panes of uncle Marty’s French doors. Sofia was shocked, and alarmed, and confused by the noises, and the flying, broken shards of glass. As Sofia’s heart was resuming to normal speed, two strange men entered the property.
Just hearing my cousin recount this tale, has me in a tizzy! My heart is beating twice it’s normal rhythm, and I’m feeling, uncharacteristically, angry, protective and afraid. I asked sweet Sofia to take a moment before continuing her story, as I was beside myself with uncomfortable feelings.
Sofia continued recalling this fateful (and hateful?) day, and I cowered listening to her precise rendition of this memory. Poor, sweet, Sofia! She was so frightened by this invasion, that she cowered in a corner, and peed on her daddy’s hardwood floors. This is an indecency that Sofia has not experienced since her youth, and she was mortified, compounded with being scared poopless (quite literally).
These thuggish troglodytes, after scaring Sofia into silent submission, proceeded to clear uncle Marty’s house of all valuables. The big screen televisions, laptop computer, jewelry, and all precious mementos, gone….absconded by shifty shoplifters…demonic duffers, I tell you!
When uncle Marty returned home, after a full day of admonishing adolescents (he’s a Jr. High School Principal), he was confused when he entered his home and the alarm system was null. In fact, the entire electrical grid of the house was dead. It turns out, that the initial cacophony that Sofia heard, was the power system being manually cut.
I’m just a cognizant canine, and I know my limitations…but, how can anyone, with any decent, moral fiber, nonchalantly invade another person’s property? In this dog’s world, the worst I see, in the canine community, is the occasional swiping of a treat. That transgression in miniscule in comparison to what these marauders did to uncle Marty and Sofia.
Thankfully, the local police are on the case. And, double-thankfully, Sofia was not harmed during this crime spree. The CSI cats on the scene (not real felines… I’m just playing with some tough, Serpico lingo) told my uncle that he and Sofia are very fortunate, in that many of these hooligans harm any pet present, during their pilfering. So scary! My poor, sweet, scared, cousin Sofia, is now exhibiting symptoms of PTSD. Seriously, she is having a tough time, which is completely understandable, but she is receiving therapy.
Uncle Marty now has a brand new, state-of-the-art security system. And, God have mercy on any simpleton soul who has the misfortune of trying to infiltrate that fortress! Not to mention, Sofia is enrolled in a doggie self-defense course. I always thought of her as bad-ass, but now…watch out!
Ultimately, uncle Marty will be compensated for his loss, through his insurance. And, more importantly, no one was injured, which is my main concern. Please, dear readers, take good care of yourselves, and your neighbors. I know I am going to be more diligent in my surveillance of my house and my neighborhood. Peace, friends…
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It’s bloody hot, I tell you! This parched pup, of British decent, born in Canada, was not designed for this escalation of heat. I’ve had my summer cut, but even if I’d gone for the full shave (a doggie brazilian), and was bald like a hairless, I’d still be melting.
I hung my head in dread this morning, after hearing the local, perky, weather girl, speak of triple-digits. Triple digits on the ol’ thermometer, is the final side of the “triangle of trepidation” for me. Just add poor air quality, and the absence of any breeze, and we’ve hit the smoldering, summer trifecta of thermogenic terror. I never miss living in the Great Northwest, with the exception of days like this.
All of my usual pup pep has been completely zapped from me… eliminated, I tell you! I find myself wandering from the relative cool of the hardwood, to the cooler tile, and back again. I always enjoy looking out the windows at my neighborhood, regardless of weather, but today, not even the squirrels or local cats are out to watch. I’m bored, and socially starved, but I’m so exhausted by this fiery forecast, that snoozing is all that really interests me today.
Mama took us to our dogpark bright and early this morning, hoping we could get out some energy before the mercury rose above tolerable levels. Only a small handful of diehards were in attendance; T-Bone, Holly, Ollie, Wilbur and I. That’s it. After one obligatory lap (and sniff) around the park, we all congregated under the shade structure. We exchanged a bit of small talk, but the sweltering temp even squelched our sociability. As we drove home, it was already 94 degrees out, and not quite 9am yet!
In addition to my nearly nonstop nap du jour, I have caught up on correspondence and some reading. So, I suppose, this heat-o-rama day has not been a total loss. Plus, on these days when it seems we reside in a fireball, instead of Folsom, mama makes Wilbur and I a refreshing treat that is irresistible. You see, she pours beef stock into ice cube trays, and makes us meat-sicles. Delicious, and a cooling, revitalizing treat for us, during these dog days of summer. Stay cool, my friends…
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I’ve noticed that cheaters come in all shapes and sizes, and cheat in myriad ways; in sports, politics, love, business, war, and dogpark interactions. This optimistic pup naturally sees the good in all beings, so I am always shocked when I come into contact with schmucks and sharks. I try to always conduct myself in a fair and balanced manor. I know, I stole that tagline from “faux news”, but in this dog’s case, it’s true.
While sportsmanship has been highlighted this week, with the World Cup and Wimbledon, I have personally been witness to some very unsportsmanlike conduct recently. Today, for example, I had the privilege of watching mama and her partner, Shannon (Beemer’s mom), play a league tennis match. I was so excited to cheer them on to victory, but, I’ve learned, it’s difficult to claim victory when your opponents are grifters.
Mama, in her florescent lime-green, and Shannon, sporting a bright tangerine top on her long, lean body, looked tough…and blinding. It was obvious, to this canine spectator, that our team was stronger, and more competent than the competition. I was enjoying watching my human, and Beemer’s mom, flying around the court in their brilliantly, bright outfits.
My tail was wagging wildly, as mama aced her opponents serve after serve. But, to my surprise, the score was not jiving with all the aces, not to mention Beemer’s mom’s deliciously deep returns. I was confused, until I realized that all of these incredible shots and serves were being consistently called “out” by the opposing team.
What the what?!? Those balls were clearly within the court! I understand that this is club tennis, with no Mohamed Lahyani in the chair to make the calls. (He wouldn’t be officiating today anyhow, after umpiring the marathon at Wimbledon earlier this week.)
The players are dependent on each other to make fair line calls, as this is supposed to be a gentlemanly sport. Generally, players are cognizant of the proper etiquette, and fair play required, when playing tennis, but not these renegades.
Deep into the second set, mama served another ace. No question about it. That ace, was ace! Even a nearsighted ninny could see the 12 inches of court between where the serve landed, and the service box line. Mama and Shannon executed a nice paw-slap, and began to switch sides, just as the opponent yells, “out!”. Exsqueeze me?!? To call that serve out, she must be barmy! Crazy and mad, I tell you.
My team had tolerated enough, and were visibly, and vocally, ticked off. In response to the “out” call, mama, in her snarkiest voice, and with a Johnny Mac sneer, said, “you have got to be kidding!” One of the opponents, clearly recognized the error, but her partner wouldn’t budge. Mama shot them the stink-eye, and held it longer than necessary, but, sadly, the persistence of poor line-calls, gave the opponent the victory. “Poor line calls” is more generous, than just coming out and calling it what it was: their win was gained by incessant lying and cheating.
No worries, dear readers. Mama and I believe in karma, and karma is taking names and kicking ass. As Beemer cleverly remarked, cheaters never pawsper.
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In my house, we love tennis. Mama plays frequently, and we all enjoy watching matches on the telly. Sometimes, mama takes me with her when she practices serving. If no one else is at the courts, I get to run around and shag balls. I suppose this is closest I’ll get to actually playing tennis, but it’s still an energizing workout.
This week, Wimbledon started, which means many hours of watching this glorious event on the tube. The opening round match between Nicholas Mahut of France, and our home-grown giant, John Isner, should have been just another, ordinary, first round match. But, this match was anything but ordinary. Spanning 3 days, and over 11 hours, this was one for the record books.
Wimbledon is the only major tennis event where the fifth set, if needed, is not decided by a tie-breaker, but is played out, with the winner needing to win by 2 games. The final set between these two competitors, lasted over 7 hours, and ended with a score of 70-68! No, I didn’t mistype the score, it was a marathon of a set, with neither man giving an inch.
The 6’9”, South Carolinian prevailed in this match of herculean strength and endurance. The stamina and fortitude of these players, baffles this pup’s mind. I could never engage in any sport that lasts that long, as I’m accustomed to my naps every couple hours. Plus, I’m not terribly competitive, by nature, and I can be easily bribed with treats. “Psst….yes, you, dog on the court….I’ll give you a liver snap if you throw the match…” Well, congratulations to my opponent!
And, speaking of endurance sports… I’m inspired by, and in awe of, Landon Donovan, the goal-making chap for Team USA. At 90 minutes, Wilbur and I were tiring of the scoreless game against Algeria, and then….Gooooooaaaaaalllll!! Now, soccer is a game I can play, but not for 90 minutes. I’m feeling entirely sporty if I can play for a full 9 minutes! It’s an exhausting game, my friends.
I have many skills and talents, readers, but athletic endurance is not one of them. (Except when I am swimming. Please refer to my post, “The Canine Michael Phelps”.) So, I sit on the sidelines and observe, in wonder, the abilities of tremendous athletic specimens like Isner, Donovan, and Mahut, playing vicariously through them. And, after all that tennis and soccer, this pooch is pooped!
Any situation can be viewed positively, or negatively, depending on your perspective. I’ve observed more humans who automatically, out of reflex, choose to be pessimistic, whereas most canines I know, innately lean towards seeing the positive, in any given situation.
I mused about the thought processes of dogs versus humans, in my post, “Just Think Like a Dog”. I think this is an important distinction between humans and pups, and I need to expound on this directive. I think that humans need to be constantly reminded that they have a choice in how they chose to respond to stimulus. Sadly, the human condition (and conditioning) is skewed towards anticipating calamity, and, add a dose of righteousness (or paranoia), and, humans get stuck, in a contrary state of being.
I think that there are many factors that contribute to humans’ tendency towards a naysaying attitude. Humans are bombarded with information every hour, of every day. And, I’ve noticed, that it’s very easy for bipeds to be seduced into absorbing all this information. Sadly, news of the state of the world, and our local communities, is usually focused on the worst of the worst, thereby influencing the humans towards more pissiness, not less.
Another factor, is family. When our canine bitches birth a litter, we only have a few months to constantly care for the little ones, as they are ready to start their own doggie lives in mere weeks. But, you, poor humans who choose to procreate, have to nurture, support and tolerate your ankle-biters for many years. I can appreciate how that would add more stress and anxiety to humans, and contributes to their less-than-positive outlooks.
I’ve been training my mama to think more like a dog, and, in my estimation, I have been quite successful. I do have to give some thanks to my dancing dog friend, Taz, for some training advice. You see, Taz, and his human, Lynn, have a blog that’s devoted to human behavior (and some pup behavior too). It’s a very interesting and engaging blog, and I encourage you to take a look. (The link can be found to the right–Changing Keys).
I’ve found, that once humanoids start shifting their perception towards the positive, and, awesome aspects of our world, it becomes addictive and self-perpetuating. I’ll give you an example of this shift in play:
Mama and I took a walk the other day along Sutter Street in Old Folsom. It was a lovely walk, on a warm day, and we thought that sharing a gelato would be the perfect way to end our stroll. Mama favors the pistachio flavor, while I was just jonesing for gelato—any flavor! The special, at the creamery that day, was black cherry, which is a tempting taste for my human. She asked to sample the special, and we both agreed it was delicious, but we still ordered our usual.
When the shopgirl served us our cold treat, she mistakenly presented us with the special, instead of the pistachio we had ordered. When she noticed her error, instead of scoping the desired selection into a cup, she handed mama the black cherry concoction, plus, a coupon for a free scoop.
Here’s where the choice of attitude and mindset come into realization. One reaction to this interaction could be pissiness, and, irritation, that the clerk didn’t deliver the correct order, and then failed to replace the mistake. The opposite take on this, would be to feel content with the black cherry variation, and happy that a freebie is in the future. Well…Blimey O’Reilly! Mama left the shop with a satisfied palate, and felt thrilled that next week we could get another gelato, gratis! Now that, my friends, is how to think like a dog.
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