I got my own thing and I do it in my own time

The Getaway People -- All About It -- 1998


Gather round people. We want to welcome Miss Medway Massachussets back into the fold! She has been among the missing for a while, but now she has returned. Let's all give her a hearty round of applause for her stealthy, stalking ways! Anyone for a rousing chorus of Kumbaya?


In other news, the littlest Poodle boy

continues to heal. He had his stitches out last week and was cleared for leash walking. However, we have not yet been given the clearance to return to Rally training, so we recruited a last minute stand- in for the new session.


Trevor.



He was not advised of this development beforehand. We just grabbed a bucketful of Liver and dumped him into the car. He didn't really have time to study the signs.

Or take his Ritalin.

So, for your entertainment and my embarrassment, I will take you through our training session last evening. From both my point of view, and Trevor's. My actual words are in bold. The rest are just the thoughts racing through our respective heads during the session.


We enter the training room. Me, my Mother and Trevor. We are greeted by our trainer, Linda. There are 2 other new teams. One is a woman with a Bernese Mountain Dog, and another woman with a small, scruffy looking dog. The generic version. Neither have any prior Rally experience. Even though I have had 2 six-week sessions worth of training, we begin at the beginning as Trevor only knows Agility. And in Agility, the dog has to be trained to work AWAY from the owner. They have to move out to do the obstacles. In Rally, the dog primarily needs to be at the owner's side. So I knew this would be a new way of thinking for Trevor.

We get ourselves settled and make our introductions. Trevor is clearly nervous. His ears are back, his tail is still. He is eying the Berner suspiciously. Since he lives with all little dogs, he views other large dogs as vicious curs and avoids them accordingly.

Our trainer preps us for a few minutes, has us walk the course without our dogs and then the show begins. She calls Trevor and me up as first team.

This is where it all began to take a left turn into entertainment vs. sport:


Me: Hmmmmmm. Mkay. We should be able to do this. I mean, I've done courses like this with Willie. How much different could it be? " Okay, ready Trev?"

Trevor: What the hell???? What is this?? Where is the teeter and the A-Frame? Hey, you up there, don't you realize we're in the wrong place? I better get outta here!

Me: "Trev. Trev. Watch me! Are you ready?" What the hell has gotten into him? He looks like he's gonna run off any sec.......... "Trevor! With me. Now, let's go!"

Trevor: OK, I get it. We're supposed to WALK! Why didn't she just say heel? Maybe because she's a moron. She thinks I have to come to a special school to walk. Man, does she ever need some training. What??? Wait.....where are you going???? Why are you turning around and around those cones? Hey, those cones are kinda cute. I should stop and sniff them. Yep, I should probably sit right here and sniff them nice and deep. They smell like Jack Russell mixed with Pit Bull. What???? Oh, we're still supposed to be walking?

Me: "Trev! Leave it". What in hell is so interesting about those stupid cones? "C'mon Trev. With me. Over here". Oh no, we have to take a sharp left. How am I going to keep from running into hi........."Ooops. Sorry Trev" Let's keep going. Maybe no one noticed. "Trev. Sit. Sit Trev. Trevor, SIT" Shit, he won't sit. What's he looking at? Why won't he sit? Do I get disqualified if I bump his butt to make him sit? Remember you have to keep your tone cheerful. Rally training is supposed to be all about fun. "Trev. SIT" Oh, thank god he sat. Lemme give him some treats for that. "Okay, let's go"

Trevor: What is wrong with this chick? Walk, stop, sit, get up, with me, watch me. I DO NOT think this is Agility. I wish she would just make up her mind and...............HEY!!!! TREATS!!!!! I LOVE TREATS!!!!!! I need another one. Please. I'll sit nicely. What? I'm supposed to be walking! How's about I lay down? That's always good for a treat!!!

Me: Oh. my. god. He's laying down. Please get me out of here. Why did I think this would be a good idea?

Trevor: Well, if you won't give me a treat for laying down, I know.........I'll whisper!!!! Yes. Whispering. EVERYONE loves that trick!!! Huh, where are we going? Without a treat? But I'm hungry for a treat. I neeeeeeeeeeeeed a treat! I wonder if she brought my ball. I sure do love to play with my ba..................

Me: "Trev...no whispering. C'mon. Let's go. With me" Holy shit. He's actually listening. He's right with me. "Good boy Trev! Nice job paying atten............" Where the heck did he go??? "Trev. Trev. TREVOR! WITH ME!! Yes. Good boy"

Trevor: That's funny to duck behind her that way. Gets her all crazy and then she gives me a treat when I come back. Gotta remember that trick for next time.

Me: Great. He's gotta lay down on this one. He likes that. "Trevor. Wait. Now down!"

Trevor: Wohoooooooo! Down is my favorite. Here I go!!!!

Me: Owwwwwww! What the heck is he doing? He slapped me on the way down!!! Please let me keep from laughing. Please. Oh no, everyone else is laughing at him.

Trevor: Hey. Those ladies liked my spectacular down. I better try it again!!!

Me: "Trevor. UP! UP! Trevor, get up. Let's go"

Trevor: This girl is a killjoy. She is ruining my act. The ladies are loving me. Alright, alright. I'm coming. What? With you again? Okay. Can I have another treat? Did you find my ball? It's yellow. Maybe we should go find it. Over there. In the bag. C'mon, let's go.

Me: Two more obstacles. Thank god. We only have to do a 360 degree circle and then walk slowly to the finish. I can't wait to be done. "Trevor. With me". Please let him turn when I do.

Trevor: Hey!!! Lady. You bumped into me!!! That's not right. I could'a been hurt. I'd better lay down and check myself for injuries.

Me: Oh no. He's laying down again. "Trevor. let's go. Trev? Trevor. What are you doing?" What is he watching?

Trevor: Well, that little dog is cuuuuuuute! I think it's a girl. Maybe she'll like me. I hope she doesn't bite. Biting is scary. WHAT??????? OMG, she barked!! I better hide!!! She might be coming to kill me.

Me: "TREVOR!! TREVOR!!!!!!! STOP!!!!!" Is he behind me????? I think he's trying to hide behind my legs. If he keeps twisting around, we're gonna fall. "TREVOR. SIT! YES. GOOD BOY!!!"

Trevor: I sat. Can I have a treat? It was a good sit. Very pretty. Straight. Can I have a treat now, please? Puleeeeese??

Me: We're done. "C'mon Trev. Good boy"



According to the audience, it was the funniest Rally demonstration they had ever seen. Trevor was even more enthusiastic on the second and third run thru. We used up all the Liver treats, he made friends with a Sheltie by peeking at her through the crook of my arm, and no one was maimed.

All in all, it was a successful first night.



Now please excuse me while I dye my hair, burn off my fingerprints and change my name.

you used to be a victim now you're not the only one

Accidents Will Happen -- Elvis Costello -- 1979



For the past 2 days, the local news has inundated our area with this ongoing story.

It sickens me. Aside from the questions I have about the mother's culpability in leaving her 2 year old for a week with these 2 scumbags, it doesn't take away from the fact that her toddler is dead.

So, in honor of the pigs who prey on the weak and vulnerable around the world, I would like to propose that we give them a dose of my very special type of medicine.


For the brother and sister in the article above, I suggest that we place them in a prison cell, together. We feed only one of them on every 5th day. Food smothered in hot sauce. Let the other watch as their sibling suffers the indignity of scarfing down hellaciously hot food to keep from starving. Knowing what is coming for them. No water will be served. If they get thirsty enough, let them drink from the toilet.

I think that might be a start. If they die, oh well. In my honest opinion, no great loss.


Then we can move on to this guy.
Let's take him out of isolation. For amusement. And leave his cell door open for one hour every night. Anyone who would like a swipe at him is welcome. As a matter of fact, let's arm the biggest and toughest prisoners with walkers and canes. Just for Jack. And then, for shits and giggles, we will take all of the prisoners diagnosed with Hepatitis, TB and HIV out of their cells to spit on him. Just like he did to his 2 elderly victims.


Then we will take our revenge on him.
With the same type of drill he used on his dog. Except we won't start with his skull. We'll strap him down and start lower. His feet. And work our way up. Slowly. A few burr holes at a time. When we get to the really sensitive parts, we'll prop his head up to watch.


We'll finish up the scumbag justice 2008 tour by visiting these 2.
I think a just punishment would be a little forced inhalation of their own. Maybe in the form of this , beginning at 800 ppm. We can work our way up to a higher dose if we so desire. We will carry out our plan of justice in a windowed room, with a video camera. For posterity sake.




Feel free to add scumbags of your choosing to my list. Together, we can devise appropriate punishments for them. It will be fun! Kind of like a scary stories sleepover.........except true.



C'mon. Whaddya' got?

Got to keep searching and searching

David Bowie -- Station To Station -- 1976




My head is empty. I have nothing of interest to impart.

So, I will play another round of "what brought you here"? To my Blog.

Aside from my regular devotees, of course.

Here are a few searches that led to my doorstep:



1.Chris Hansen probiotics takeover

Huh? What?

2.Into every life some rain must fall:

No friggin kidding. It's been pouring around here lately. You?

3.Tired tattoos:

If your tattoos are tired, spruce them up a bit. Give them a makeover. A Sharpie will do the trick temporarily, but if you really want some spicy tattoos, get yourself to a local prison, post haste! Tell them I sent you.

4.Repairing Poodles dislocated knees:

I'm good, but not quite at the Orthopedic expert level quite yet. However, there is this really cool pull-twist-pop-method that seems to be effective. The Poodle runs like the wind after you try it!

5.Did she make you cry, make you breakdown:

Well, she nearly did. I refuse to discuss it any further. Doctor's orders.

6.Poodles standard tired:

My Poodles standards are often exhausted. Actually, I sometimes wonder if they have any standards at all. They will sink to any level to get what they want. I don't really know what to do to raise their standards, aside from dislocating their knees.

7.Looking for a dog toy called Larry the Cucumber:

You sneaky asshole!!! You are trying to steal a cucumber right from under the snout of my Trevor. Back away from Larry. Just move away slowly and no one will get hurt. Good. Now go find your mutt a tomato!

8.Tired of lazy, unmotivated boyfriend:

Princess? Is that you? Thank goodness you finally came to your senses!

9.Tattoos for the upper chest boob:

How about for the lower chest, boob? Or the thigh, moron? Maybe the arm, asshat? Possibly consider the back, jerk?

10.Julie Wilson party Blog:

Damn you Julie Wilson!! You had a party and didn't invite me! How could you? I thought we were BFF. And then you Blogged about it!

11.I absolutely love you:

Well, thanks for the sentiments, but most likely, if we met, I would absolutely hate you.

12.Apricots tattoos:

Who in the hell would tattoo an apricot? I've heard of beginners tattooing oranges, or pigskin. But apricots. Wouldn't the tattoo be kinda wrinkly?




So for this post, I apologize heartily. Just not feelin' it right about now. Don't know when I'll be better.

If you want it, here it is come and get it

Badfinger -- Come And Get It -- 1969




I am only bowing to pressure. Breaking under the stress of a veritable mountain of requests. Compromising privacy in the name of journalistic satisfaction. I must please the teeming masses.





Or maybe just the 5 of you that commented.





In some places, 5 people might constitute a mass.







Don't laugh. Or pity me.




The littlest Poodle boy is doing great. Sailed through surgery, having an uneventful recovery. If you discount the fact that he whacked his suture site on the doorframe today and made it bleed.




Not good thinking.





And then he proceeded to jump off of the bed within milliseconds of me placing him there with a clear command of "stay". Did I mention.......it's a VERY HIGH BED?





Clearly, more faulty thinking.





Aside from those minor glitches, he's fine. We will, however, dispel any rumors that he is HAPPY about his plight with the following pictures. All taken the day after surgery.




Sad, sedated, shivery and sleepy:

Really thinking that collars suck hairy big ones:

Sick of all this surgical bullshit:

THE END

Its been a bad day. Please don't take a picture

REM -- Bad Day -- 2003


The littlest Poodle boy is home. The surgery went well. I have pictures, but spent my weekend with him instead of downloading at the computer, so you will have to wait for the pathetic-ness that is a Poodle in a collar with a bum leg.

Until then, you can amuse yourselves with a virtual tour of the same type of cruciate ligament repair that Willie had done (WARNING - IT'S GRAPHIC!) He also had the groove where his kneecap sits routed out to make it deeper, increasing the odds that the repair will hold.

ENJOY!

And if your way should falter along this stony pass......................

It's just a moment -- U2 -- Stuck In A Moment -- 2000


Willie is at the Vet's for his surgery today. Send a little good juju his way, wouldja'?


And while you're at it, send a little for the Princess too?


She's not having very much fun right about now. The carnival ride spun out of control and she got tossed onto the blacktop. Lemme' tell ya' all about it, but first, refresh your memories with the last few paragraphs of this.

Are you done yet? You sure are a bunch of slow readers? Are you high?

Nevermind. Counselor, strike that last question. Let's move on.

So, do we have the picture? The Princess was hoping to move into the lead teacher position for next year's class. She submitted her application and resume several weeks back and waited patiently.

Alright. Maybe not so patiently.

You sure are a demanding bunch. Truth in journalism and all that bullshit.

Where was I? I should take this opportunity to let you know that stress seems to exacerbate my ADD symptoms ( see previous post).

Back to the Princess. This past Monday, she gets an e-mail from the school's HR person to say that the director, J, wants to meet with her. She had heard through the grapevine that J was interviewing others for the lead teacher's position. It was only natural that she would assume she was to be interviewed as well.

She dressed nicely. She talked to me about what she might answer when asked specific questions. She was very excited even though she tried to steel herself against the fact that she probably would not get the job. She was convinced that she did not, despite the dual Master's, have enough experience. But my Princess, ever the fearless go-getter, forged ahead.

I told her to call me as soon as she was done. She did.

Near tears.

She would not be a lead teacher. There is a very strong candidate, well known to the current director who is the top contender for the job.

The Princess was disappointed, but that was not actually the reason the Director had called her in. He went on to tell her that not only was she not getting the lead teacher's job, she was basically being pushed out of her current job at the end of her contract in July. It seems that the school has an " informal policy" to allow the lead teachers to choose their own associates. He told her that there have been 3 separate instances in the past where a new lead had joined the staff with a returning associate, and the integration had NOT worked. The kids were too attached to the returning associate and did not bond with the lead. The returning associates had sometimes been resentful of the new lead teacher. The associates had tried to tell the lead how to do things.

Blah de blah de fucking blah.

He called this kid into his office knowing FULL WELL that she was expecting to be interviewed for the lead teachers job..........and then he basically asks her to leave at the end of the school year!

He did, however, make it a point to tell her OVER AND OVER that this had NOTHING to do with her performance or abilities. He just thought that, with the precedent already being set, it was better for the associates to leave when their lead left. He asked her to think about what he had said and get back to him with her decision after the weekend.

She was blindsided. Devastated. She called me a few minutes after the meeting, barely able to keep composed.

He has her over a barrel. Because she works by an annual contract, if she tells him that she has decided to stay, he will simply refuse to renew her contract and probably make certain to refuse a reference letter to a potential new employer. She has to leave. She was given no choice.

The first year teacher who worked extra hours to meet their staffing needs, who stayed late and came in early, who served for days at a time as the lead teacher when R. was out again and yet again............. and he's shoving her out the door without regard.

The school scuttlebutt is that he has already promised the lead teacher job to the top contender, and likely promised her that she could bring her own associate with her.

So the Princess has to suck up, be nice and tell him that she will leave for the good of the kids........so she can get a decent reference letter clearly stating that she was not fired, nor was she asked to leave because of incompetence. Her current lead teacher has already agreed to write a glowing reference on the Princess' teaching abilities.

The job search begins anew, with less vigor than last year. The Princess is disillusioned. She is angry that hard work, honesty and diligence is NOT a guarantee of success. She has been demeaned and embarrassed, and now she has to play the game with the director until the end of the school year.

I, for one, would like to go to the school and have a friendly chat with this guy. Refresh his memory a bit. About how he used my kid for the past 7 months and never offered her a bone for her efforts. About how he is dismissing such incredible potential. About how he, as an educator, should know better than to crush the dreams of anyone so eager to learn.


About how angry it makes me when some prick in a suit fucks with my kid.


However, I think that might limit her future employment opportunities.




Unless I hide the body really well.

And you may ask yourself - well...how did I get here?

Talking Heads -- Once In A Lifetime -- 1982



We have been preparing for the big surgery day. Now, many of you might question JUST HOW MUCH preparation is needed for a little 13 pound dog having his knee sliced open?

LOTS!!!!!!

Let's take a little tour of the inner workings of my brain as I tried to figure this all out. Just remember, I do have a *slight* case of ADD. That can sometimes muddle up my prioritizing skills. Slightly.

Here are the things that immediately came to mind after we heard the diagnosis and set the date for surgery:


1. The soft crate. We'll need the soft crate for him to sleep in at night. I think it's in the basement. Somewhere. But, if it is down there, it's been there a long time and will probably need to be dusted off and have the pad cover washed. Make mental note to check basement. Immediately forget mental note.

2. Neck collar. Oh no! Sadie's neck collar, custom made for her by the HM is PINK!!!! With girly stars!!!



That will never do for my boy dog. He needs something more manly. Well, maybe something less manly and more boyish. How about just something blue? Which means we will have to get the supplies to make a new collar. Or maybe Sadie's will fit him and we can just create a new cover. Make a mental note to check basement for Sadie's collar while looking for the soft crate. Again, completely forget mental note.

3. A pack-n-play!

I think I sold the pack-n-play after Sadie was finished with rehab.


Did I? I can't quite remember. I think I did. Yep, it's coming back to me now. I got sick of seeing it in my basement, near where the soft crate a pink collar were stashed, so I put an ad on Craigslist and sold it to a nice guy. He was cute. Buying it for his niece who would be visiting for the holiday. I wonder which holiday that might have been? What was the weather like while I was outside talking to him? Was it summer? I can't really recall. What was I thinking about before the cute guy?

Oh, right! Now I need another pack-n-play. I'd better put a want ad on Craigslist. I hope the same guy doesn't answer and try to sell my pack-n-play back to me. That would be stupid. And slightly embarrassing. Even though he was really cute. I wonder how old he was? What was I trying to remember? Oh, yeah! I know now.

Make a mental note to create Craigslist want ad. Yep. Completely forget mental note as I move on to item 4.

4. I have to groom him! His hair needs to be as short as possible. He needs to be clean. Oh hell, when am I gonna get time to groom? If I groom 1, I really have to groom the rest. It's stupid to have them on different grooming schedules cause' then they never look good at the same time. And there's no way to tell when they would all need to look their best simultaneously. I mean, what if a TV show needed 5 groomed Poodles on a moments notice? Or if my crazy neighbor decided to call the dog warden on me? What would he think if only 1 Poodle was clean and groomed and the rest were not? He might think I play favorites and................

Oh, right. Grooming. Maybe I can groom him and just wash the others. That would be good. Except.....

5. Grooming and washing = washing all bedding. No sense in sticking a clean Poodle on a dirty Poodle bed. Oh lord. When will I get the time to do all of this laundry? In the basement-----------------------where the soft crate and the collar are!!!!!! I remembered! So, now make mental note to connect laundry/soft crate/collar in pea brain. Then, I will know to look around in the basement while I'm already down there.

Sure.

6. Material! I needed material for something. I can't remember for what?

<<<<insert sound of chirping crickets here>>>>

Oh right!!!! Material to make a boy's neck collar. And a cover for the pack-n- play pad. But, I don't have a pack-n-play! How would I know how much material to buy for a pack-n-play cover when I don't have a pack-n-play? Because I sold it to that cute guy. I'd better place an ad...........oh yeah. I am supposed to be creating an ad for Craigslist. I'll have to get right on that. In the meantime, I better tell the HM that we have to go to Joanne's for material. Maybe I should check the basement for Sadie's collar first. To see if it fits. Yep, that's a good idea. Then, maybe we won't need so much material. But first, I'd better boot up the laptop to create an ad. The bootup takes a long time. Or maybe check Craigslist first to see if anyone is already selling a used pack-n-play. I hope someone sells a blue one. I don't want a pink, frilly pack-n-play for a boy. I should have just kept the other one, but that nice guy really needed it.

Well, while I'm upstairs on the computer, I'll get some laundry and wash the Poodle bedding. In the baseme............


The soft crate!!!! And the neck collar!!!!! In the basement!

I should probably go right down there now before I forget.

But if I go down there first, I won't have the Poodle laundry from upstairs. I'd better go upstairs first. And while I'm up there, I'll turn on the laptop and start an ad.



AND SO IT GOES.


By the time Friday comes, I truly will succumb to mental overload. Willie will get all the pain meds and I'll have a headache the size of Idaho.


BTW, I did get a pack-n-play,



but that's a story for another day.



If I remember.