Ok, so I lied about not having a new post tonight.
As some of you know, I have two dogs. A 9 year old male Lab, Bogey, and a 4 year old (I think) female Beagle, Candy (she was a stripper in her past life. Or an Interventionist. I’m not quite sure, but I didn’t have the heart to rename her Bridget, as I had originally intended). I love them both, and they couldn’t be more different.
Obedience
My lab, while in many ways is the canine Beth (i.e. the consummate people pleaser), in one way he is a stubborn mother. He doesn’t come when called unless there is some other enticement. When I put him outside, I have to hawk him. On more than one occasion, he has taken off for greener pastures (literally, my next door neighbor doesn’t have a dog, so his lawn is oh so green, unlike mine with yellow pee patches dotted throughout). When I call him, bellowing “BOGEY!” he typically doesn’t respond, or looks around like “Bogey? Who?” Not until I make it clear that some food product is in my hand does he even begin to act like he knows who I am.
That said, inside, it’s another story. My beagle won’t give me the time of day. Seriously, I’ve asked. She can’t tell time. The only person she will come to when called is my father, and that’s usually because he has Cheetos. When I do call her, Mr. Hearing Impaired Bogey himself comes trotting over. I think it’s because he gets sick of hearing me say “Candy…come here girl. Candy. Candy!” over and over again.
Food
Oh they both love their kibble (grain free Sweet Potato and Fish. What kind of fish? Damned if I know). Bogey had a slightly more discerning nose, despite the fact that I have seen him lick his feet, then where his balls used to be, then his feet again then try to give me a kiss. Candy literally will eat cat poo (sorry!).
I thought this was a sensory thing until one night last week when I spilled a container of brown rice. Bogey was in the room and saw it, went over and licked up a bit of it, then turned away, clearly disinterested. Candy on the other hand lapped every last kernel up, like fat girl on a diet only allowed 1 ounce (wait, that would be me). Bogey looked from Candy to me as if to say “What? She was a stray. What’s your excuse for eating that crap?”
Tonight while preparing my lunch they both sat in front of me, breathless with anticipation. I tossed a few pieces of Romaine lettuce to them. Bogey ate part of a leaf, again turning away. Candy ate every morsel on the floor. Then I tossed a piece of broccoli on the floor. Candy snatched the lone piece, ran under the dining room table and trotted back moments later with a floret on her nose. Bogey gave me the same disgusted look I never thought possible from a lab. I can’t say I wasn’t warned when it came to beagles.
Walking
Bogey loves to walk. He pulls me along as if there was a pot of gold at the end of our path, only pausing to pee every few minutes. For example, I took him on a short walk last week to see my dad at the office, less than a half a mile away from the house. By the time we got there my arm hurt from pulling him back, and I counted no less than four pauses to pee. Can dogs have an enlarged prostate?
As for Candy, she’s not so big on the walking, kind of like me when I’m not feeling the exercise thing. I’ll put the leash on her and oh yeah, she’ll go outside, but unless she sees a big juicy steak, she will plant herself in one spot and look at me with distain.
Night Time
I’ll admit, my motivation for getting another, smaller, dog was for nighttime. No, nothing strange, but while fostering my friend’s dog, a dachshund, I got used to the furry little foot warmer. Bogey will happily share my bed…well, sharing isn’t really the word. He takes up ¾ of my queen sized mattress, so he more like let’s me cling to the edge of it, so he has been relegated to the floor. Candy took quite a bit of coaxing to even sleep in my bedroom, forget sleeping in the bed. When I pick her up and put her next to me, she does what I call the “1950’s Housewife” routine. She will lay, stock still, paws in the air, looking at me as if to say “are we done cuddling now?”. As soon as I turn away she hops off of the bed and into her doggie bed on the floor.
I could go on, as any dog owner could, but I think I’ve demonstrated my two very different pups. And you know what? I wouldn’t trade either one of them in, with all of their personality tics, for the world.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Feeling Conflicted
Michael Vick, scumbag of the universe, cancelled on Oprah this week.
Supposedly, he cancelled because owners of the dogs he tortured (abused isn’t a strong enough word for what he did) wanted equal time. His reps said it was due to personal reasons.
Whatever.
Frankly, I’m not sure how I feel about it. On one hand, I feel icky about this POS getting time on a show like Oprah. I honestly thought she was classier than that. After all, this is a woman who changed the tenor of her show after skinheads had a brawl on her show. These skinheads, whose opinions are abhorrent to me, never caused the death of living, breathing beings to my knowledge. Perhaps they wished harm on those they hated, but, again and this is only to my knowledge, never electrocuted, drowned or forced defenseless beings to fight to the death. To think that she would give this POS air time, and for him would believe it would be a love fest, is shocking to me.
Yes, I did say that I thought it was refreshing when he admitted a few months ago that he wouldn’t have given up his dog fighting ring if he hadn’t been caught. I got some abuse for this, and perhaps now is the time for me to clarify. I don’t admire him (I really don’t want to type his name again). I was merely commenting on the fact that he didn’t trot out some B.S. line about always feeling conflicted, or blame another person, or the people around him for what he did. I was merely commenting on the fact that he admitted that what he did was wrong, and it took an intervention to get him to stop. Perhaps this is the line of a good P.R. person, but I stand by my original opinion.
Another point, and my father and I have had some words over this, POS has lamented the fact that the terms of his parole prevent him from owning another dog, and his daughter desperately wants one. My father feels that POS should be allowed the privilege (and as the owner of two dogs, trust me, it is a privilege despite the occasional trials and tribulations) of having a dog, as that pet would be the most looked after and pampered of canines.
I think his daughter should take this as a sign that she should petition for emancipation, no matter what her age is, if she wants a dog that badly.
Getting back to my original point, being conflicted about POS cancelling on Oprah, there is a part of me that is disappointed about him cancelling. I’d like to see him come face to face with at least one of his victims. It goes unsaid that I’d like to see said victim gnaw off his hand, but also for that victim’s person tell POS how his actions have affected them. I’d like for him to be confronted with the reality, the reality that he victimized a creature that didn’t have a voice, one that needed and will continue to need constant care and attention. One that may never fully heal from the torture endured.
For many fans of the Philadelphia Eagles, the ultimate redemption story would be for POS to bring home the Lombardi trophy, and Philly does love a good redemption story. I’d just like to see POS traded for someone who deserves to wear the jersey, and deserves to be the person of a loving dog, who will always feel safe, and will never have to experience what the victims of Bad Newz Kennels went through in their last days and hours. For that person, I’d ditch work for the parade down Broad Street.
And bring my rescue dogs without fear or need to explain.
Supposedly, he cancelled because owners of the dogs he tortured (abused isn’t a strong enough word for what he did) wanted equal time. His reps said it was due to personal reasons.
Whatever.
Frankly, I’m not sure how I feel about it. On one hand, I feel icky about this POS getting time on a show like Oprah. I honestly thought she was classier than that. After all, this is a woman who changed the tenor of her show after skinheads had a brawl on her show. These skinheads, whose opinions are abhorrent to me, never caused the death of living, breathing beings to my knowledge. Perhaps they wished harm on those they hated, but, again and this is only to my knowledge, never electrocuted, drowned or forced defenseless beings to fight to the death. To think that she would give this POS air time, and for him would believe it would be a love fest, is shocking to me.
Yes, I did say that I thought it was refreshing when he admitted a few months ago that he wouldn’t have given up his dog fighting ring if he hadn’t been caught. I got some abuse for this, and perhaps now is the time for me to clarify. I don’t admire him (I really don’t want to type his name again). I was merely commenting on the fact that he didn’t trot out some B.S. line about always feeling conflicted, or blame another person, or the people around him for what he did. I was merely commenting on the fact that he admitted that what he did was wrong, and it took an intervention to get him to stop. Perhaps this is the line of a good P.R. person, but I stand by my original opinion.
Another point, and my father and I have had some words over this, POS has lamented the fact that the terms of his parole prevent him from owning another dog, and his daughter desperately wants one. My father feels that POS should be allowed the privilege (and as the owner of two dogs, trust me, it is a privilege despite the occasional trials and tribulations) of having a dog, as that pet would be the most looked after and pampered of canines.
I think his daughter should take this as a sign that she should petition for emancipation, no matter what her age is, if she wants a dog that badly.
Getting back to my original point, being conflicted about POS cancelling on Oprah, there is a part of me that is disappointed about him cancelling. I’d like to see him come face to face with at least one of his victims. It goes unsaid that I’d like to see said victim gnaw off his hand, but also for that victim’s person tell POS how his actions have affected them. I’d like for him to be confronted with the reality, the reality that he victimized a creature that didn’t have a voice, one that needed and will continue to need constant care and attention. One that may never fully heal from the torture endured.
For many fans of the Philadelphia Eagles, the ultimate redemption story would be for POS to bring home the Lombardi trophy, and Philly does love a good redemption story. I’d just like to see POS traded for someone who deserves to wear the jersey, and deserves to be the person of a loving dog, who will always feel safe, and will never have to experience what the victims of Bad Newz Kennels went through in their last days and hours. For that person, I’d ditch work for the parade down Broad Street.
And bring my rescue dogs without fear or need to explain.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
General Musings
I don't have a specific topic I want to ramble about...haven't had a specific one (at least one that has come to me when I have my computer in front of me and it's not 2:00 am) for a while, so hence the lack of an update.
So, I'm going to go with it, and provide a general update in the life of moi. I'm actually going to treat this like a meeting minutes, so please forgive the "official" type headings. At least I'm not breaking out the bullet points.
Weight Loss
Still going strong on this point, and trying to avoid being my own worst enemy. To wit: have had a blockbuster past few weeks at WW, so much so that I'm not sure what the deal is. That said, last night my trainer sprung measurements on me. Side note here: my trainer is somewhere around 70 and has a crappy memory. I have to regularly remind him that I'm on WW, I run and that I'm training for a half marathon. Each time I tell him this, he reacts like it's news. Now I know that I'm not his only client, but he works part time, and the last time he measured me, he told me that was a record for him, so I'd like to think that something I say would stick with him. But I digress...
I had scheduled measurements (which BTW, I have to pay for, don't get me started) for 2/21, a day I have scheduled to take off from work. My plan was to go to the gym from a doctor's appointment I have scheduled that morning and face my date with the tape measure. Last night, after doing a 20 minute warm up on the stair master, I went over to the trainer's desk. He told me his 6:00 had cancelled, and he wanted to do measurements then and there. I sputtered.
My natural tendency is to dehydrate before I get on any type of scale, and I certainly wouldn't have done the StairMaster since I can practically feel my thighs plumping up from the exertion. He insisted. My results, while good probably by anybody else's standards, left me feeling deflated. For one thing, the scale at the gym had me weighing 3 lbs above my WW weight the week before, and somehow, despite losing everywhere else, my neck (huh?) grew by 1/4 inch. I wound up losing 17.5 inches and 21 lbs since November, and that includes Thanksgiving and the Christmas/New Years holidays, but I was disappointed. Crazy, right? Clearly I still have a long way to go with body acceptance and realistic expectations.
Food
I still look to food as my comfort. I'd like to say that when I'm upset my first instinct is to go for a run, or beat up a punching bag, but no, I want food. Last Saturday was a pretty upsetting day for me, for reasons I won't go into here. I spent the better part of the day crying if I'm honest. By the time I went to bed, I looked like I had collagen injected all over and a bad case of pink eye. My main instinct, after bursting into tears, was to eat. I took myself to lunch, ate a slice of pizza and at least half of a large order of fries (I'm being generous). I went to D&D and got a breakfast sandwich as the second part of my coping mechanism. It was low fat, supposedly low cal (I guess compared to my beloved bacon, egg & cheese) and tasted like crap. I actually tossed it after two bites. Fortunately, I caught myself and stopped. I cried some more, made some tea, and went to bed. I still wanted to stuff the feelings away, but I went with them, despite how miserable I felt.
Running
Still going strong here. I'm resolved to get up early in the morning, when I can, and get my daily runs over with before the day starts. This is good for me on two parts...one, I'm done for the day, and can do what I need to do after work rather than on the weekend, and two, I can wear my three to four inch high heels without worrying about my feet or calves aching while I'm trying to exercise. Ahh...vanity.
I'm making progress on the distance. I managed 5 miles last Friday and this past Sunday, and am hoping to do 5.5 tomorrow and/or this weekend. It sucks while I'm doing it, and I'm thankful for my DVR, but I feel a real sense of accomplishment once I'm done. I'm optimistic that I can get to 9 miles by the spring and do a 10k (roughly 6 miles) as a training exercise.
My New Body
My brain is still catching up to my body. A few weeks ago, I was at the supermarket, and being the good eavesdropper that I am overheard two people in line mention the gym I go to as a "meat/meet market". I chimed in that I go there, and one of the women said "you don't need to worry about the gym, you're skinny". I turned around to see if there was somebody standing behind me. I looked her dead in the eye I told her "Ma'am, this time last year, I weighed 230 lbs". She and the cashier, who went to my high school, both went slack jawed. The cashier went over to tell her colleague who came over to say she hadn't recognized me (she had waited on me many times before and was a customer of mine when I worked retail). My head was spinning.
The next day, at the request of some friends, I posted a few current pictures. I hadn't even combed my hair, had no makeup on, and was wearing my "booty shorts" (tight running shorts) and a throw away t-shirt that I wear when I run at home. The response was overwhelming. One person messaged me for tips. A few people told me I inspire them to exercise. It's a little much if I'm honest. I feel like Charles Barkley when I say this, but I'm no role model. Of course I'm flattered, but I don't feel like I'm doing anything exceptional. But hey, if somebody wants to start exercising or eating healthy because of me, who am I to discourage them and not cheer them along?
Life
Things in general are good here. As I alluded to, I experienced a bit of a loss recently, which I'm not ready to delve into, but I'm coping with it and moving on. Thankfully, I still have a job, and my family is healthy. Finances could better, but who can't say that?
So, that's it...the last two weeks in nutshell. Hopefully something more profound will come to me, and not just when I'm trying to go back to sleep after my pup has woken me up in the middle of the night! Until then...
So, I'm going to go with it, and provide a general update in the life of moi. I'm actually going to treat this like a meeting minutes, so please forgive the "official" type headings. At least I'm not breaking out the bullet points.
Weight Loss
Still going strong on this point, and trying to avoid being my own worst enemy. To wit: have had a blockbuster past few weeks at WW, so much so that I'm not sure what the deal is. That said, last night my trainer sprung measurements on me. Side note here: my trainer is somewhere around 70 and has a crappy memory. I have to regularly remind him that I'm on WW, I run and that I'm training for a half marathon. Each time I tell him this, he reacts like it's news. Now I know that I'm not his only client, but he works part time, and the last time he measured me, he told me that was a record for him, so I'd like to think that something I say would stick with him. But I digress...
I had scheduled measurements (which BTW, I have to pay for, don't get me started) for 2/21, a day I have scheduled to take off from work. My plan was to go to the gym from a doctor's appointment I have scheduled that morning and face my date with the tape measure. Last night, after doing a 20 minute warm up on the stair master, I went over to the trainer's desk. He told me his 6:00 had cancelled, and he wanted to do measurements then and there. I sputtered.
My natural tendency is to dehydrate before I get on any type of scale, and I certainly wouldn't have done the StairMaster since I can practically feel my thighs plumping up from the exertion. He insisted. My results, while good probably by anybody else's standards, left me feeling deflated. For one thing, the scale at the gym had me weighing 3 lbs above my WW weight the week before, and somehow, despite losing everywhere else, my neck (huh?) grew by 1/4 inch. I wound up losing 17.5 inches and 21 lbs since November, and that includes Thanksgiving and the Christmas/New Years holidays, but I was disappointed. Crazy, right? Clearly I still have a long way to go with body acceptance and realistic expectations.
Food
I still look to food as my comfort. I'd like to say that when I'm upset my first instinct is to go for a run, or beat up a punching bag, but no, I want food. Last Saturday was a pretty upsetting day for me, for reasons I won't go into here. I spent the better part of the day crying if I'm honest. By the time I went to bed, I looked like I had collagen injected all over and a bad case of pink eye. My main instinct, after bursting into tears, was to eat. I took myself to lunch, ate a slice of pizza and at least half of a large order of fries (I'm being generous). I went to D&D and got a breakfast sandwich as the second part of my coping mechanism. It was low fat, supposedly low cal (I guess compared to my beloved bacon, egg & cheese) and tasted like crap. I actually tossed it after two bites. Fortunately, I caught myself and stopped. I cried some more, made some tea, and went to bed. I still wanted to stuff the feelings away, but I went with them, despite how miserable I felt.
Running
Still going strong here. I'm resolved to get up early in the morning, when I can, and get my daily runs over with before the day starts. This is good for me on two parts...one, I'm done for the day, and can do what I need to do after work rather than on the weekend, and two, I can wear my three to four inch high heels without worrying about my feet or calves aching while I'm trying to exercise. Ahh...vanity.
I'm making progress on the distance. I managed 5 miles last Friday and this past Sunday, and am hoping to do 5.5 tomorrow and/or this weekend. It sucks while I'm doing it, and I'm thankful for my DVR, but I feel a real sense of accomplishment once I'm done. I'm optimistic that I can get to 9 miles by the spring and do a 10k (roughly 6 miles) as a training exercise.
My New Body
My brain is still catching up to my body. A few weeks ago, I was at the supermarket, and being the good eavesdropper that I am overheard two people in line mention the gym I go to as a "meat/meet market". I chimed in that I go there, and one of the women said "you don't need to worry about the gym, you're skinny". I turned around to see if there was somebody standing behind me. I looked her dead in the eye I told her "Ma'am, this time last year, I weighed 230 lbs". She and the cashier, who went to my high school, both went slack jawed. The cashier went over to tell her colleague who came over to say she hadn't recognized me (she had waited on me many times before and was a customer of mine when I worked retail). My head was spinning.
The next day, at the request of some friends, I posted a few current pictures. I hadn't even combed my hair, had no makeup on, and was wearing my "booty shorts" (tight running shorts) and a throw away t-shirt that I wear when I run at home. The response was overwhelming. One person messaged me for tips. A few people told me I inspire them to exercise. It's a little much if I'm honest. I feel like Charles Barkley when I say this, but I'm no role model. Of course I'm flattered, but I don't feel like I'm doing anything exceptional. But hey, if somebody wants to start exercising or eating healthy because of me, who am I to discourage them and not cheer them along?
Life
Things in general are good here. As I alluded to, I experienced a bit of a loss recently, which I'm not ready to delve into, but I'm coping with it and moving on. Thankfully, I still have a job, and my family is healthy. Finances could better, but who can't say that?
So, that's it...the last two weeks in nutshell. Hopefully something more profound will come to me, and not just when I'm trying to go back to sleep after my pup has woken me up in the middle of the night! Until then...
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