The Endangered Clif

Photo courtesy of http://www.clifbar.com/food/products_clif_bar/1201

For all of you dog bloggers out there in the blogosphere who haven't yet experienced a Clif Bar... DON'T. You won't like it. Believe me. I tried one. (Ripped the package into itty bitty bitskys, too) It's not something I want added to my diet (even as a treat). The best way to let your humans know this is to eat one and leave one over. I left the other one tucked neatly in my mom's beach bag. I think she got the message.

On to lighter things ... For the last couple of days I've had my very own house guest. Macy. That's right folks, he's my brother from another mother. A Welsh Corgi to be exact. A little aggressive on the food front, but we're working that out (my mom and Diane are teaching him to sit/stay) and I'm so very glad that he's staying at my house. He plays nice and he plays chase. What more can you ask from a house guest (other than that they vote Democratic)?

Life is good.

My mom is off Procrit now (her doctor said that she was getting like an athlete who was juicing) and she's still doing fine. She even has a new roof on her car. Personally, it's a little too much wind for me when she drives with the top down, but she seems to love it. I wonder if it's like hanging your head, tongue flying in the air, out an open window.

Life is very good here in "...da' muck")

Namaste,
sds

Cactus Cuties

(photo credit: random internet search)

This YouTube video was sent to me by a dear friend who has the uncanny ability of helping me to become "unstuck" whenever stuck I become. (I don't even think she knows it, either!) On top of that, don't they just remind you of real life "Whos" from "Whoville"? (go see Horton Hears a Who!)

Lexapro

(logo courtesy of www.lexapro.com)

Sounds like a dog's name, doesn't it? It's not.

I think that my mom has changed her mind about giving it serious consideration considering that the side effects from the Interferon/Ribovirin are starting to interfere with her view of the the world. She's even been yelling at me and she doesn't usually do that. So rather than invest in tissues and solitude, maybe she'll give me a ride in the car over to the pharmacy and a lot more napping instead. (I love R.I.T.C. (Rides-In-The-Car) and napping!

The thought of moving in this direction is actually helping my mom. Good thing. Here's something to help celebrate the occassion:



tentatively wagging tail,
sds

Little Lamb Who Made Thee?

(picture credit: google images)

In some of the words of William Blake,

"Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life, and bade thee feed
By the stream and o’er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, wooly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?...."

accompanied by the music of WB Caldwell, I ask you, who made thee? I know that my mom loves me just the same now with her battery as she did before she had one (even though she's a bit slower during our games of chase). It really doesn't seem to matter whether her heart is totally dependent upon a battery or upon chemical reactions. Seems to me in all my dog wisdom, that if the "who" didn't want her to feel in her heart, then the "who" would've given her a dead battery. (Did you know that you can start a fire with steel wool and a dead 8 volt battery? (My mom saw it on MacGyver once).) Anyway ... Makes you definitely wonder, huh? So we use the word "heart" to describe deep emotions. What's wrong with that? Should we use the word "soul"? Should we not use words? On Valentine's Day, people give each other plastic hearts with Skittles in them, or truffles, or M&Ms. Does it mean any less because of the plastic? Guess we'll find out in about 8 years when the battery is scheduled to run out.

running with a little less abandon today,
sds (Someone quick! Throw me a cookie!)

Over Hill and Right on Dale

Today, here in Jersey, it's bright, sunny, almost warm, and mom is working from home as she usually does now on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Thursdays are not as much fun as Tuesdays are because of, well, you know (that jab thing), but Tuesdays ... well they're almost like puppy playtime all day long. She talks to me, she takes me out at lunchtime. What could be better? OK. Don't answer that. There's not too much new except that the postman came by early so my mom didn't have to walk all the way to the mailbox to send out a letter, and the gutter stayed put on the roof all night - so she wasn't cursing this morning. All good things ....

On another timely topic, like Roger Clemens, Michael Vick, Robert Blake, Leona Helmsley (wait, she's dead), Paris Hilton, there is Eliot Spitzer. Rather than go into detail about any of them, my mom said that I might want to put this bit of reading material here instead. There you go - and as a very very wise person once said, "wherever you go, there you are".

Being.
sds

drip and deluge

My mom recounted for me some dinner conversation she had the other night and, though boring as it might seem to the rest of the canine world, it was, according to my mom, pretty enlightening for her. It had to do with truth, each individual's personal truth, mostly religious/metaphysical. There was one woman who told a story of her mother who decided that it was okay for her daughter to skip confession the night before her communion because of a long line - yet it was still okay to take communion the next day. This same woman's mother, while in her 80's, dying of kidney failure, asked for a priest to help her determine whether or not stopping dialysis would be considered suicide in the eyes of the church. Then there was another woman at the table in her 50's who was born Jewish, raised communist, Workmen's Circle, etc... yet taken to task for calling her sister a Yid. Then my mom's sweetheart, who was born of Jewish parents who themselves were born in Germany, but who got out before The Holocaust, yet who was raised Unitarian who is slowly investigating the Judaism that her parents rejected. Then there is my mom who checked into Saint Peter's Hospital with really vicious back/leg pain, and who woke up in Robert Wood Johnson University Hospital running on a battery (like a scene change from Brian De Palma's Dressed to Kill with Angie Dickinson ) It almost looks like individual truth is an intensely personal fluid thing - for some, a lengthy annoying drip, and for others, a deluge.

So in honor of drips and deluges, here is a little entertaining video to bring joy to anniversary month:



HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO:
my mom's mom & dad (nana and pop-pop)
her sister and her brother-in-law (my aunt and uncle)
her brother and her sister-in-law (my uncle and aunt)
Roxie's two moms

(My mom's and her sweetheart's anniversary is not until Israeli Independence Day. More on that later.)

Running back and forth across the room with reckless abandon,
sds

Inspiration

Some folks find inspiration during the observation of the accomplishments of others, some in the enthusiastic way in which those accomplishments are maintained and for some, in the general contagion of enthusiasm itself. Much credit for the existence of this blog is due Roxies World. It inspired me to enter the blog world via admiration and subsequent mimicry. In summation, it engendered creation of this blog and inspired me to write a few things down. Thank you Roxie. Thank you(s) also go to Roxie's typist, Moose, and Moose's partner Goose for imparting their enthusiasm and knowledge such that I have incorporated pieces of the same here too. (Specifically, The posts about Puppy Superbowl / Michael Vick, and the link to SNL's Tina Fey) Big thank yous :) I'd send them a royalty check, but I don't even know how to price such things. As it is, I have no pockets in my fur so I'd have to ask my Mom to take care of it for me. I'd offer up a play date if they're ever in N.J. if that's acceptable to them.

Credit too must also be given to Sharkbutt for his blog. His humor and cat perspective always gives me pause.


Grateful to be a dog and just plain ol' grateful ...
sds

Boston Dudes and 'Tudes

So I hear tell that Tom Scholtz of Boston (the band) is a bit upset with Mike Huckabee for his appropriation of Boston's song "More Than a Feeling"(visually performed by someone else here) for his campaign rallies. This is some of the gossip from this week's The Week Magazine

" The founder of the 1970s band Boston has asked Republican presidential candidate Mike Huckabee to stop using his song “More Than a Feeling” at campaign rallies. 'By using my song, and my band’s name, Boston, you have taken something of mine and used it to promote ideas to which I am opposed,'said Tom Scholz, who said he was supporting Democrat Barack Obama. 'In other words, I think I’ve been ripped off, dude!' Huckabee’s campaign said the candidate only played the song when he was joined onstage by former band member Barry Goudreau, who is a supporter."

I suppose that I'd be upset too if I heard someone bark like me. As it is, when the doorbell rings on the TV, I run to the front door and bark. Per his comments from The Week Magazine, he doesn't want to be associated with a candidate unless it's the candidate of his choice. Makes sense to me. Then again if someone puts a song on the radio, and you find yourself humming it later in the day, is that the same thing? (BTW, no one has ever caught me humming) If someone does something wonderful, and you copy it for yourself, they're due some sort of royalty or acknowledgment - this is true. This impacted my TV viewing just recently with the "writer's strike" and the royalties not being paid for internet downloads and DVDs of their work. Here's a YouTube video of Tim Kazurinsky telling us about that. Whew! Thanks to the creator that that's over! Now my Mom can go back to watching one of her favorite shows, Saving Grace. The pertinent question though is ... to what degree the acknowledgment? There's permission, footnotes, links, and for the Hollywood writers, royalties to be paid, etc.... But which method is acceptable to whom? We all want to be acknowledged in ways that we can accept. Me? I like to have my belly rubbed and my under-legs scratched. There. I've told you. Now the whole internet world knows.

sds

Laughter *is* THE BEST medicine

Thank you Al Gore (for passing legislation that helped the development of the internet), accomplished intelligentsia, SNL writers and Tina Fey for making my Mom laugh out loud!

Republicans in Cat's Clothing

Not that I have anything against "cats" per se (some I even like - like Stash, my cat) but this guy Ralph Nader usually seems to hurt rather than help the Democrats (see Mike Huckebee's comments in the Guardian) . He's now thrown himself into the Presidential race as an Independent. I think that he ought to throw his energy into something else for right now if he's looking for things to do. Might I suggest blowing up Peeps in the microwave?

This is also my Mom's opinion; just thought I'd share it.


sds

Peeps

(Photo credit: GOOGLE search of the internet)

What else is there to do on a Sunday morning for two growing and curious boys besides watching cartoons and playing Ninento DS? Why microwaving Peeps of course. There was much excitement in our house this morning as the anticipated day had arrived. My Mom had purchased some pre-Easter (Valentine's Day) Peeps and had advised the generic kids (who are 111 and 5 respectively) that something happens to Peeps when you put them in the microwave for 30 seconds. They, of course, couldn't fathom anything more exciting than a new DS game, but were curious nonetheless. So the rule today was that breakfast had to be finished first and then we would start our experiments. After seeing the Spiderwick Chronicles last night, they were primed for some good experiments (there is even a book on this), so my Mom took out a plate and we (she) put one Peep on it. It was then placed in the microwave for 30 seconds and WALLA! The Peep grew, and grew larger still and then popped. Everyone seemed to enjoy eating the Peeps and so I decided that I wanted one too. They look sort of like eggs. Normally, I really *do* like marshmallows, but these were deceptive. I thought that they would taste like an egg, but they didn't so I think I'll skip the Peeps next year at this time. Here is a YouTube video of what they did (made by someone else). I ate my breakfast though ... almost all of it. I almost felt like a real boy today too ...with my very own Peep and everything. I pushed it around on the floor some, but then Mom had to throw it out. Have a delicious and fun day...

sds

Thursday Afternoons

photo credit http://www.pegasys.com/about-pegasys/default.aspx

Thursdays are now jab days. What? What you ask, does this mean to you, dear reader? It means that Thursday afternoons are when my Mom does the jab thing with the Pegasys interferon injection and I have to stay, stay, STAY. Stay anywhere, but next to the kitchen table where the light is better and everything is laid out nicely for me to sniff. NO SNIFFING! Gosh, when will she ever learn to calm down. I was only checking out the goods. So this is Thursday afternoon and then tomorrow, Friday, well on Fridays she (that's my Mom) is just a bit slower than usual. Did I tell you how slow she is now? She and I used to play chase around any table in the house. She doesn't play chase now, but maybe when this is all done she'll accept my challenge. She promised me that. I believe her. What I really want to do is to go outside and play basketball with the boys across the street. They're much taller than me, and I don't do anything for very long on two legs. (Did I tell you that I can dance?) I guess basketball would get tiring after while. Chase though ... I could play chase ALL day :)

Nyeh nyeh ...
sds

My BFF or Brother from Another Mother

(photo credit: Moms of Macy (KZ/JC)

Hi Kids :)

It's been almost one whole day since I've written (doesn't that sound like some sort of confession?), but to be honest, today is my Mom's revised 1st birthday (the anniversary of when she got her new aortic valve) so I'm a little distracted.

Being that this is my Mom's new 1st birthday, I started reminiscing about my stay with my Mom's friends (Karen and Joanna) and their new puppy, a Welsh Corgi. I stayed with them while she-who-must-be-obeyed was in the hospital and while she was recovering. At first, my Mom's sister put me in a kennel. Nice place, but 3 weeks is, well, waaaaaaay too long. Anyway, back to the good life.... Macy and I became fast friends and he followed me everywhere (and *I* mean EVERYWHERE) doing what I did, trying to be just like me. This didn't bode well for the poor little fella when he tried to jump on the couch. His legs are just too short. He tried though. Gotta tell you folks ... he is my bestest friend in the whole world and even comes to visit me sometimes now that I'm back home. I really liked staying with my aunts (Karen and Joanna) too. They're loving, warm and they took care of me the same way that my Mom does. Sometimes though it wasn't all fun and games. I had a reminder of that this past weekend when I threw up all over the kitchen floor (included were the remains of some of the bathroom garbage.) I did this at Karen and Joanna's too, until they learned to shut the bathroom door. My Mom thought she could get away with keeping it open and tested the waters with this type of garbage can. Didn't work. Now we know. I can't tell you what the draw is, but I know that it's like Heroin or Oxycodone for guys like me. They don't have rehab programs for dogs on bathroom garbage though ... or do they?

Speaking of friends ... My Mom has some really good ones too. One of them accompanied her today to a doctor's office to pick up records for something legal that needs to be done. These records were requested well over 70 days ago, but weren't forthcoming. That old the-check-is-in- the-mail-dog (ahem)-ate my-homework set of excuses grew old pretty fast. So my Mom asked her friend (who has a way of intimidating manly men just by her presence) to accompany her. Boy. They coughed up the records in a hurry this morning. I guess that the intimidation factor helped ;)

Anyway ... back to my bff Macy. He's the coolest Corgi on the block. He goes boating and for long drives and even has his own lifejacket. I'm glad that he's my friend.

sds

Two in One Day

I just had to share this with everyone. My Mom's gal pal Joan sent it to her. How timely given that Caroline Kennedy is now the poster child for AARP :)

You humans! You slay me!



sds

A New Beginning

Where shall I begin today? How about … today is the beginning of the 4^th week of treatment for my Mom’s Hepatitis C (which the doctors found while playing out their own version of House). Did you know that you could get it from the blood supply pre-1984, or from a tattoo, or from another IV drug user? Well, a couple of pints and two tattoos (go on, say it 3 times fast), later, here we are – pills twice a day and injections once a week. Worst thing yet though is… (

) no drinking for the full 48 weeks of treatment. The cool thing is that with treatment, my Mom stands a good chance of being cured. This comes with some kind of umbrella drink I believe (or so she keeps saying). What’s an umbrella drink?

So I guess this means we’ll be playing more. I’m always up for that. Always!

Sniffin’ your ears …

sds

What to Eat or ... How to Stay Hot

(Photo Credit: Picking peppers for perfect health?
(Alicia Wagner Calzada/Associated Press) 2/14/08).

So this is what Hillary eats, eh? Personally? I like licking (there's THAT word again) the empty cat food cans after Mom feeds Stash (our cat) in the morning. I figure, why not have fun and help Mom out around the house? Do you have other suggestions? I've always been a finicky eater - almost on the level of "cat", but truth be told, my Mom persevered and kept trying different things. Gotta give the woman credit, she went through nearly every kind of food imaginable short of people food (which I love), and even dealt with the after effects of "Mighty Dog" (that includes cleaning my kennel by taking it outside and hosing it down). (I really liked that food too, until my tummy got all sick) My heart goes out to all the Moms out there who find themselves pitted against charges who, for whatever reason, don't want to eat the food that they're presented with. I'm glad that MY Mom stuck it out though. I know she loves me.
As for Hillary ... it makes me wonder why, after all these years, the food she loves to eat consists of hot peppers. Do you think that her Mom fed her bland food? Is that what they eat in the Midwest ? You decide.

Sniffin' whatever's available,
sds

I see you and raise you

You DO know that in male dog terms what that means, right? It involves legs and lifting them.

Sheesh! What is it with you humans? Everywhere I look it seems as though you guys don't know what it is that you're supposed to be doing. WHAT is it that you do anyway? We dogs play. We eat. We sleep. We don't blame other dogs when we're bad. When we're bad, like me, I hide that cute little tail of mine between my legs and sulk. Do I go and blame the German Sheppard who lives down the street? Nooooooooooooooo. Not me. I generally sniff the air, nose the poop, and then I *know* who it belongs to. It's not in my nature to always go after the same dog. I can tell who did it. You humans just don't have that facility for sniffing in the right places. Though sometimes you get so close I could swear you look just like me and my kind.

Take Hezbollah for instance, they're pissed because their "important" guy got knocked off. That's what happens when you're the "important" guy. It's a thing you humans do. Knock off the "important" guy. So they're blaming Israel as usual, like they reported in the New York Times. Hey! Be glad that you're not important like Roger Clemens. Look what HE has to go through to stay important! I'd rather be a dog.

Sniffin' your ears ... and nothing else today,
sds

Barking

We dogs, especially me, think that barking, especially group barking, is a really fun thing to do. It's like when someone has a good idea - not like pet rocks, or choke collars - but more like big backyards, puppy pre-school, running off leash at the beach, voting for Hillary (oops, that's what my Mom says) that we tell everyone else. That's what group barking is all about. If you want to hear what group barking sounds like, just click on the link to the right (group barking) and you'll see. Music to my ears, warms my rarefied sensibilities, it really does.

Sniffin' your ears...
sds

Puppy Superbowl Day

Yesterday was Puppy Superbowl Day on Animal Planet. Fun and frolicking (did I tell you how much I like that word?) for about 46 different kinds of puppies on the big screen while we (make that just D.) sipped some wine, folded laundry and watched my mom sleep. Yes, believe it or not, my mom has been given to napping lately, in the middle of the afternoon. Speaking of times and numbers close to 50 ...

Of the pit bulls seized from the home of currently incarcerated former NFL star Michael Vick, about 50 of them (see The Week's "It Wasn't All Bad") have been rescued from the {*&^*&} conditions in which they were kept and "dispersed to eight rescue organizations for adoption, rehabilitation or lifetime care" according to The New York Times. Anyone with a working heart, even battery operated, will be moved, as I'm sure you will be too, as you read this incredible story. (Make sure you look at the audio slide show, too.) At the Best Friends Animal Society sanctuary in Kanab, Utah, one dog, Georgia, "her tongue jut[ting] from the left side of her mouth because her jaw, once broken, healed at an awkward angle," is recovering from experiences too awful to even imagine. Georgia's horrifying experience (as can be deduced) as well as others are laid out in this very moving story.

I'm so glad that my mom loves me. I think that D. has grown to like me a lot too. Her boys seem to (though I think that they like my cat Stash more). Maybe I scare them? Maybe it's my 25lbs of 'tude. (That's what you get when you spend the weekend at camp) Anyway ... it's good to be loved.

What would D. say?

My mom's partner, D., is the best alpha person a dog could know on the planet. She's done something with my mom and now I don't have to pretend to be THE BOSS anymore. I was a terrible boss. It's not my calling, but enough about Greeks (alpha, beta, interferon...)

Anyway ... D. had more of a scare than I think my mom did during 2007. My mom was mostly drugged out on Darvoset, Vicodin, Percocet, Oxycodone, etc ... or comatose, and didn't realize what was going on until she woke up with all sorts of paraphernalia attached to her orifices. She said that there was a breathing tube, a feeding tube, chest tubes, drains, and assorting other conduits for bodily fluids. Her partner actually had to look at all this stuff. My mom on the other hand just felt some of it. Then again, what can you feel when you're as high as a kite. She told me that she had intense hallucinations. So whenever I have a pressing question, I head on over to my mom's partner, and ask her. She's the woman in the know. She can look death in the face and, I'm not sure what she did with that view, but she's still here, and I'm glad. She even plays with me. Can't ask more than that. Playing is where it's at. To the right is a picture of me at my mom's 49th birthday glad-to-be-alive party. It was originally of D. and my mom playing, but they're not up for photo ops right now. They were at some kind of women's social, dancing, frolicking (I like the licking part) I wanted to go along, but I hate wearing clothes and they said ... "No clothes, no dance!" so I took their picture out and put mine in instead. I'm cuter anyway.

In The Beginning

Hi. I'm Sam. My full name is Samuel Clarence (after the ghost in "It's a Wonderful Life"). I'm 11 years old, spry, smart, loyal, and courageous. Here's a picture of me just so you have it (ignore the cat and no, I am not a fawn in disguise)
My mom got real sick last year, and in not-the-male-way, showed signs, serious signs, of a heart condition which no doctor, dentist, ENT (the long name is just too long to spell out here), or orthopedic guy, picked up. Even when presented with symptoms such as shortness of breath, exhaustion, jaw pain, back pain ... they all missed it. My mom was very very sick. Her FRIENDS brought her to the emergency room. Her FRIENDS read the MRI and assessed a very bad situation. She is lucky to have such FRIENDS. I know that she's glad that I was a good boy too. I kept quiet, didn't ask too much, waited ... a lot. So anyway, the bottom line, after pretty much every specialty had a look, and every test under the sun was ordered and reviewed, they determined that she had endocarditis with septic emboli. Read that as VERY BAD NEWS. She's lucky that she was young (48 is considered young for this) so they operated on her and, P.E.T.A. step aside, a cow did not die in vain. Bottom line? She now has a new aortic valve (bovine) and a pacemaker. The pacemaker keeps her going, and going, and going because the infection that she had ate away the electrical parts of her heart. BAD INFECTION! You go sit in the corner! BAD, BAD, BAD INFECTION! So for 40 days, and 40 nights, she slept in a drug induced state at Robert Wood Johnson, in their oh-so-very-lovely ICU area, tended to by oh-so-very-efficient nurses (more about them later). Funny thing about humans ... if they lay down too long, eventually they can't get up and take you out for a walk. Personally, I like laying down. I lay down. I get up. I eat. I play. I lay down. Life is wonderful!!! :) Anyway ... back to my mom. So after all the hospital stuff, she was transported by ambulance (or so she whispered to me) to a nursing home where she learned to walk again. She said that she also learned to put clothes on too. I don't see why they just don't grow fur like I have. HARUMPH! She said that she *did* grow fur, but it didn't really do the trick and people stared. I don't know about you, but I've never noticed people staring at my fur.
Sniffin' your ears,
Sam