Fat Guy on a Bike (WITH DOG) Goes to Lilydale Park

A perfect day for trail biking, fossil digging and (if you happen to be a dog) wetlands splashing. We came home three hours later, both liberally caked in 450,000,000 year old clay. It was difficult to judge which of us was panting harder from the heat and exertion.

One thing to mention: this new bike sure has some excellent shock absorption. The trails up there are littered with broken bricks and quite frequently washed out, and I didn't crash once. It was the first time I'd gone out rockhounding since the accident, and the first time I'd gone trailbiking since childhood. I had almost forgotten how much I missed both. Going back soon, possibly with friends or as part of an organized group. If not, alone on bike (WITH DOOOOG), exploring like a mofo under a cloud of discombobulated no-see-ums.

Remind me to bring more water next time. I thought I was going to die out there before I found the waterfall and let myself get rained on for a few minutes. Sweet bliss.

The Captain, Seductive

No you can't have my dinner you cozening hussy of a dog. Go back to sleep.

Lifedump

I finally got the Captain a new collar. This one's traffic-reflective so he'll be more visible at night. I also got him a proper harness for bike-runs, and am going to attach reflective tape to it as well. Then I'll go to the hardware store this week and buy tiny reflectors and make buttons out of them, which I'll wear on the back of my biking jacket. I already have a flasher on my bike and a blinking pendant shaped like a bone for the Captain, but you can never be too visible.

The bike's brakes were getting loose so I took it to the shop where I got it. The owner came out, looked it over and told me to bring it in anytime for a full going-over with adjustments, because some of the factory settings aren't quite to his liking. He showed me how to tighten the handbrake in the meantime (modern bikes have such weird interfaces! I didn't need a screwdriver) and when I asked how much for the tune-up, he said they wouldn't charge a thing. Fucking amazing. I'll be getting the handlebars adjusted if there's any more wiggle room, and if not, I'll need to buy a longer set so I can sit completely upright to save my neck and wrists. Then I'll buy a rearview mirror and get it installed on the handlebars. It's good times.

Still working on the comic, still dragging ass. I haven't gotten much sleep lately so I'm slow and easily bored. Today was therapy and we had a really long, really thought-provoking session talking about codependency and boundaries. Also about my need to get my life started and gain some independence (especially financially) so I can feel like more of an adult.

It's really weird climbing out of the pit I'm in. And not all that painful, at least not yet. We're doing good work. Starting to establish a rapport. I guess I got lucky on that one--no one I know has ever liked their first therapist, and I adore mine.

I've been listening to the Adam Carolla podcast since he lost his morning show and decided to continue doing the job for free out of his basement. He's such a belligerent dick, but I love him. I miss the old Loveline, before Scrappy Doo (aka Stryker) took over and David Allen Grier was barred from returning as a guest. I don't agree with all of the Loveline advice (they are completely ignorant and judgmental about gender dysphoria, for example) but most of the time it's dead-on. I've been listening to the archive of 2004 for the past month or so while I play One Piece and collect my non-thinks.

Spring is coming. I need to get out more, and take a bunch of photos with this awesome camera before everything turns soggy and brown.

Pictures of snowman sex acts to follow.

Luka's Adventures in Laundry and Dog Torture

Poor doggy. It's shocky-collar retraining time, and that is not a good time to be a Captain.

The last time I made him wear the collar was in the fall because I noticed him starting to dare the borders of the kitchen and found a few scattered wrappers around the trash can after leaving him alone. After that, the UFO unit that sends the signal to beep the collar stopped working properly.

He's been getting more and more bold regarding the no-fly zone for about a month, and today he got into the kitchen and cleaned out the cat food twice. That was that--I took the UFO apart with a screwdriver and messed with the connections until I got it to work again. He heard the faint test-beeps from out in the hallway, and I could hear him bolting for the stairs. So much for the element of surprise.

Unfortunately, dogs are fairly skilled at pattern recognition, so he has figured out that the collar is involved with the terrible torment that befalls him when he trespasses. It takes a while to de-condition himself, but I don't want him to figure out that taking the collar off means party time. Two ways around this: make sure there is a beep of punishment when he's not wearing the collar at certain points, and leave the collar on but turn off the power so that it doesn't warn him. Either way he'll stop associating the beep with the collar, resulting in a win condition for me.

The prongs shouldn't be in constant contact with his skin because it could cause pressure sores, so to take the latter approach I'll need to wrap the collar with something soft and comfortable. The former approach will require me to catch him in the act while I'm holding the collar (or a tape player with the collar noise recorded onto it).

In the end, it's worth it. The kitchen border keeps Maya-cat safe in her basement domain (she is bitterly racist against all Captain-dogs) and the Captain can't choke on anything he scavenges from the counters or the trash with his ever-so-industrious nose for mischief.

It's a work in progress, this cohabitation with other life forms. At least he's being really nice to Molly-cat. She has no fear of him whatsoever. I've seen her taunt the poor fellow into a barking frenzy from her comfy perch just over the blue do-not-cross line. Today I was petting her with one hand and feeding the Captain snacks with the other, and she was actually purring in between those tiny little grunts that mean Molly is being shown affection. Strange girl, that one.

In non-dog news, the dryer was not working the other day, so I had three loads of wet laundry to deal with. I found a roll of twine and made a quickie clothesline all over the basement by crisscrossing all the support beams. The towels ended up really stiff and still had pet hair on them, but my clothes are plenty soft enough to wear and hanging it all up wasn't all that difficult. I decided to try and make a habit of it.

So I bought 60 feet of clothesline for $2 at Walgreens, cut it into several lengths, and did the thing properly. On laundry day it's going to be like hiking through the jungle down there, only instead of bats and biter-snakes, you'll get attacked by soggy skivvies. The basement is so arid that things dry fast. I'll still need to tumble the towels a bit to remove the pet hair and soften them up a bit, but that's no problem.

(Blame Netflix for sending me An Inconvenient Truth when I was feeling particularly hippy-minded. I couldn't even finish it so I just swore to be less wasteful and sent the DVD back.)

Last thing I'll need to do is make sure I strung the lines high enough to avoid beheading anyone in the dark. Seebs is the tallest one here so I'll test it out on him first.

Even More Lip Service For The Captain

Check out my dog's awesome regenerative powers:



The vitiligo appears to be slowly repigmenting. I've been noticing little freckles on his muzzle all winter long, but it wasn't til I compared the first and latest photos that the real scope of the change became apparent. He might get all the color back at this rate *hope hope*. He's such a handsome color without the Joker paint look.

WHO LOVESES THE CAPTAIN? I LOVESES THE CAPTAIN!

AAAUUUUU

I've been taking photos every other day to document the Captain's vitiligo, which seems to be progressing to his nose.

Tonight, he yawned.

Oot and Aboot

Today was Slack Day so I slept in, then only did the dishes and worked on the comic for most of the afternoon. When 6:30 rolled around, I did my usual pre-exercise stretches, dosed myself with Albuterol, ate a rubbery chunk of cold congealed oatmeal from the fridge (it was good, really) and took the Captain for a bike run in the bracing 20*f winds.

During the winter months, the sky is dark for most of my usual day. If my occasionally perverse sleep schedule sees fit to flip on me, I may not see the sun for a week or more. This is bad for biological/depression reasons, but I do love it. Especially when it snows (as it has for several days in a row, though nothing stuck for too long) and the clouds hang down low and take on the color of a bruise, and the snow turns blue and dim. You could walk through the woods without a flashlight on a night like that. Absolutely wonderful. On days when it's clear out and you can see stars during regular business hours, it never fails to remind me of the Night World levels of the original Super Mario Bros game. I even call it that, in my head. It feels more private and safe than summer nights when the sun stays up forever.

Meanwhile, our bike run was going pretty well. The Captain was exasperated with my slow pace and started pulling me pretty hard via his harness. The easier to tire you out, my dear. We rode a little more than two miles total, and on the way back I offered him a choice between "go home, get some dinner" and "dog park." His response was to drag me to the dog park at top speed. I could barely get him to stop at the busy cross-street.

The flooded parking lot area around the dog park had frozen over. The ice shattered all around us as we plowed through. I wince sometimes to think of the Captain's poor chilly toes when he plows through freezing water, but it's in his blood. It's the summer heat he doesn't like.

Inside the park, the Captain ran gleeful circles around me as I jogged around the dog park. I didn't have much endurance after years of refusing to run because of THE BOUNCE, but I was able to wear us both out. We can work on stamina later. My asthma did kick in after a while, but it's been a mild attack so far. Nothing like I would have had two years ago, that's for certain.

At one point I saw something incredibly bright moving over the park, and stopped running to look up at the most vivid shooting star I've ever seen. At first I thought it must be an airplane because it didn't burn out like the ones I usually see on clearer nights. It just fell forever in slow-motion toward the trees. I saw two tiny sparks shoot off from the main meteorite as the whole thing suddenly flared brighter, and then it was behind the trees and out of my line of sight. It was incredible.

Five minutes later, I saw something huge and dark gliding in slow circles overhead. It looked like a bird of prey, and it was enormous. It had to have had a five-foot wingspan at least. As I watched it, the bird vanished I couldn't find it again.

After this, we rode home and I took a hot shower, followed by an even hotter bath, followed by sabotage via freezing cold blasts of water from the faucet just to help spur me onto my feet again. Now I'm warm and comfy in my fluffy bathrobe and the Captain is snoring with his head hanging over the arm of Best Chair.

I feel utterly at peace with the world. The only thing that could make this better would be a hot plate of lo-mein and the latest episode of One Piece.

Speaking of which...

Medical Fun!

Had the first doctor visit this week. We talked about my blood sugar problems and she said he was pretty sure it wasn't diabetes (YAY) but we'll do the fasting/tolerance thing to make sure. He prescribed me Adavair and a new albuterol inhaler, and then we talked about my wrists. He used a little rubber hammer to tap on the base of my hand and I felt it all the way in my fingers, worse on the right side. I could barely do the hold-hands-together test because the left one hurts so badly.

At first he told me to just continue taking anti-inflammatory drugs and bracing the wrists at night, but I told him I've been doing that and it's getting worse and I'd like to try the next step up to stop it. Lately I wake up with both hands feeling numb and weak, and I can't hold a fork or a pen without losing the feeling in my thumb and half my fingers. If I set the pen down and flex the fingers the blood rushes back in, but that only lasts a few minutes. I can't draw like I used to, and I can't lift free-weights or ride a bike comfortably.

He said that in cases where the pain wakes you up at night or you start losing grip strength it's time to look into surgery, and that's right around where I am now (although I don't recall waking up at night, I'm sure yelping in pain in the early morning counts). He's referred me to a neurologist for an EMR(?) test. Basically they're going to stick needles in my arms and run a charge through to see whether the signal slows down in the carpal tunnel area. I have been offered cortisone shots in both wrists to temporarily relieve inflammation, and if that doesn't work, there's always surgery. At this point I am absolutely committed to whatever it takes to get my hands to stop buzzing and going numb on me when I try to draw. It's so hard to lose yourself in the work when the work is hurting you!

Cross your fingers y'all. Lord knows I can't. I go back next week for a physical, and am hoping all goes well and my heart isn't likely to asplode at the gym or something.

Had a two hour bike ride with the Captain today, the longest since you-know-when. His hurt toe didn't bother him at all, but I kept our speed down and the bike in low gear for my knee's sake. We were mostly on the sidewalks (legal in this town) so the Captain could pad along on the soft grass instead of the harsh street surface. We went all over the place. Even to the dog park, which was empty, so I brought in my bike and rode around with the Captain chasing me until he was good and exhausted.

During the ride I tried so hard to induce an asthma attack, pedaling as fast as I could and breathing through my mouth, but nothing happened. This new medication is fucking amazing. I'd forgotten what it was like to be able to go all-out physically and still be able to breathe without my lungs shrinking to the size of itchy, burning little raisins.

Life is good.

Whoever loves, let him flourish. Let him perish who knows not love. Let him perish twice over whoever forbids love.

-Graffiti found on the wall of the House of Caecilius Iucundus, Pompeii.

No More Toes for the Captain.

Took the Captain in for his appointment today, to get his pink lips looked at. The Doc was pretty stumped and had to go get her reference and look through it for a while before coming back with the educated guest that Doggie has vitiligo. It's another Pointer tendency, from what she told me. I'm to watch for sores or crustiness in the affected areas as signs that there's something else going on, but in all likelihood he's fine beyond the skin color change. Fine by me--he can be Captain Jackson as long as he's healthy. I'll need to make sure he has sunscreen on the depigmented areas if it starts to creep up his nose, also.

While we were in the office, I had his paw looked at. Yesterday I woke up to the sound (and wetness!) of him licking his foot excessively. A claw was broken and splintered all the way back to the quick, and the wound was starting to smell a bit funky. I called as soon as I noticed and they said it would keep til the appointment. I duct-taped a sock onto his leg to stop him constantly licking the foot for much of the day. It sapped all his powers, that terrible sock. He could barely move other than to slither from floor to Best Chair and back again. Deep, abiding sighs in numbers too great to count--the whole canine guilt trip. Only ferrets forced to wear a harness can do the dance better than an intelligent dog. A ferret will go the extra mile and throw in a death rattle before going completely limp and still.

Once the vitiligo was out of the way, Doc called a technician to come and hold the Captain while she took care of the claw. I tried to distract my brave puppy with treats, but he lost interest the second the shears came out. Doc lopped the whole bloody claw off in one move, right down to the base of the split. The Captain screamed and wailed and bled all over the place. It was pretty terrible, and was followed by several minutes' worth of dark-eyed canine betrayal angst.

Doc calmed him down with several spoonfuls of the really good treats she keeps in the office for post-torture apologies, and the Captain relaxed a bit. A few minutes later he was doing tricks for snacks, albeit with more caution than usual.

The bright orange bandage they put on his foot was like a clingy, blood-stained business card for the Ministry of Silly Walks. Poor dude tried not to use that leg at all the whole time it was on, but his torment was not over yet. I took him to the pet food store and bought him a nice new pair of clippers. The old pair was getting dull, and I need to keep his nails extra short from now on to prevent this ever happening again. I also got some fish oil supplements because Pointers tend toward brittle claws, and our floor is hardwood with gaps between the boards. Doc says that's usually how talons get splintered.

I am pampering the shit out of my boy right now. Even still, he keeps glancing at me with this expression that says "You did this. You let them cut off my feet." Oh, Captain, you are such a fucking drama queen.

Also today, I opened up a bank account here in town. My previous bank was in Bellevue, NE, and I'm tired of the inconvenience. I am now considering getting a credit card. I've never had one before, and it's a bit intimidating. But I really should establish an emergency financial backup plan for the future.

Art Post and Lip Service

Meanwhile, I'm having a bit of a canine crisis. The Captain's muzzle fur has thinned around his lips, and while it appeared to be growing back, the other day I noticed that he's actually lost all the pigmentation under his nose as well. He doesn't seem to be sick, but it's freaking me out for obvious reasons.



I need to take him to the vet, but money is tight right now due to wantonly spending it all on medicine and therapy. Supposedly I'll be getting some of it back since the MinnCare is retroactive to August 22, but I don't really want to put the vet visit off.

So starting now, for a limited time, I'm taking donations for the Captain's vet bills in lieu of the usual Kagerou tip jar. Any money left over after he's taken care of will be placed in a shoebox marked "SO THE DOG DOESN'T DIE" and that box will be sealed inside another box, which will in turn be placed on a high shelf covered with crawly black widow spiders and biter-snakes, to ensure that the funds will not be embezzled for any other purpose.

If you donate five bucks or more, I'll send you one of these horrible little trinkets:



You can choose either a pin-back or a magnet. Stab friends! Destroy hard drives! This badge will serve as proof for all eternity that you own a $5 share of Luka's dog. If you bring the button with you to future conventions, I'll give you free stuff.

Plus when I die and become a postmortem icon of the outsider art community, they'll be really collectible and you WILL get laid for owning one.

If you donate more than $5 and want multiple Captain buttons, just drop a line with your payment letting me know.

Meanwhile, the subject of this post is sprawled out in Best Chair without a care in the world. I think he's murdering something in his sleep--I can hear his fangs clicking together from across the room.

YOUUUU DOG

I got all my work done today and decided to spend the evening vegetating in Best Chair under my super-soft plush blanket. The Captain, as he often does, kept walking over and laying his head on my leg and staring at me, so finally I let him jump up and watch Bullshit! with me. OOF, sixty-five pound lap-dog. In a few minutes he settled down and went to sleep with his butt in my lap and his head almost hanging over the foot-rest of Best Chair.

It was an excellent time until he had a very upsetting dream of some kind. He started twitching and woofling, and his hackles went up in a stiff mane and stayed that way for a while. Next thing I know I smell this rotten stink and look down, and sure enough my beloved sleeping puppy has pooped on me a little bit.

Fifteen minutes later, the super-soft plush blanket is in the wash, and the arm of Best Chair is soaked through with antibacterial cleaner from a merciless scrubbing.

I wonder what he could have been dreaming about that literally scared the shit out of him.

Photo Post: July 2008

Doing what he does best, I guess...



These delightful little fellas have started a day care on the wall lining a local sidewalk.


This right here? This is why I will never have children.


My hair did this after I dyed it yesterday. I struggle to understand the connotations.

------

Still dead scanner. Still no bike. Somebody said they had a lead on a new one but I think I deleted their post by accident when I was removing entries regarding Fight Club. Shit, I'm sorry about that. I am very interested! The dog and I both grow fleshier and walkies fail to satisfy.

Shrink tomorrow afternoon. Can afford it because people, they are amazing.

Sentences deteriorating. Lolcat ray suspected. I can has bedtime?

Today Was Dogs

PUP SO EXHAUSTED.
NOTHING CAN FIX IT...
BUT A BISCUIT.

My dog is a brave little toaster! I took him for a long, random bike ride on quiet streets to get him good and tired. Came home, had lunch, gathered his paperwork and then we biked to the vet clinic half a mile away.

In the waiting room, the Captain was anxious but calm and whined a few times. I don't blame him at all. Last time he went inside one of those places, they cut his nuts off. I'd want to steer clear too (pun definitely intended).

The only other time I've been at a vet clinic was a few months ago, when I volunteered to take Molly in to have her spay stitches removed. The doctor forced her down without any compassion whatsoever and ripped the scabs off with his fingers and a scalpel. He wasn't unskilled, but he acted like he was angry with the cat and his attitude toward me was dismissive at best.

The Captain has anxiety issues and would be a floppy, retarded sprinkler of fear pee after two seconds with that guy. So we decided to schedule the first-ever Captain Cookiepants checkup with the Cannon Valley Clinic instead.

That place was amazing. It was well-lit and clean and everyone working there was clearly an animal lover. They were gentle and went out of their way in every case to comfort and handle the animals I saw in the lobby. The vet tech and doctor offered treats to distract the Captain for his shots, and even played with him while we talked about his health history and went over the vaccinations he'd need. They were really impressed by his nodding trick and general mellow attitude.

He was not a fan of the needles, which sucked because they had to draw a second sample after the first one didn't work out, but it was over quickly. He's now vaccinated against rabies, distemper, lyme disease, and Scientology. I also picked up a two-year supply of heartworm medication and a one-year supply of FrontLine.

The final cost was more than what I (wincingly) paid to adopt him last year, but I think it says something about the bonding experience that this time around, I was crowing about what a bargain it was.

The heartworm/lyme tests came back negative. He did test positive for antibodies to anaplasmosis (GODDAMN TICKS!), but the doc assured me that 95% of the time, the dog will remain asymptomatic and it's no big deal. He might still get sick months later, so if his appetite and demeanor suddenly changes in the next year or so, I'll just need to bring him in and get antibiotics. Apparently ticks can infect humans with anaplasmosis too, so now I'm extra extra paranoid about one biting me this summer.

Oh, and the Captain's physical condition is excellent. His ripped muscles stood out and impressed everybody, and he's gained 12 pounds of pure muscle in the past six months. Distance running him with my bike is really doing him good.

Great teeth, clean ears, bright eyes. Overall, the one thing I have to do now is stop giving him beef bones to destroy. Not because they'll splinter like chicken and pork bones do, but larger dogs have a higher risk of splitting their back teeth on them. So from now on it's old towels and rawhide for my 62-pound lap dog.

Finally, the vet confirmed that with his dominant Pointerness it's safer to teach him to stay away from the cats than try to make them ok with each other, so I'm going to go back to my "keep Inotek unit in pocket and carry cat around, and shock him when he gets too close" plan, which seemed to be working.

After a day of running and panting and being fed treats and poked with sharp things and meeting new people with clipboards, I thought he would be ready to go home and collapse. Nope! He just about dragged me to the dog park. After being thoroughly trounced by a husky puppy twice his size, he was finally ready to sleep. Now he's conked out on my bed, smelling faintly of Frontline and with a belly full of heartworm chewie.

It is a good life, being a dog.

Next week: LUKA'S DENTAL EXAM!

I Has A Petdog

It's official: I am a dog owner.

This is not news in a technical sense. but thanks to my angst-filled family history, I don't really bond very well with animals. For years I refused to consider getting a pet because I was scared I'd be like my Mom and neglect/collect/abuse them. But dammit, I was all lonesome. I need something to take care of and keep me out of my own head. Besides, some guys just need to have a dog. I think it's the same with girls and cheesecake, except for the eating part.

So I said "fuck the angst, let's adopt!" and ran with it. For the first 8 months having the Captain, it sucked because of his behavior problems. Emotionally he was aloof and meek in turns. I could take or leave him. Gradually we settled into a routine and he started to mellow out a little. I reserved judgment on whether I should even keep him at points, and was plagued by a constant sense of buyer's remorse. I would periodically conjure up scenes of him getting hit by a car or getting old and dying to test myself, and it didn't really seem like that much of a disaster. I figured that the day I cringed and feared for his safety would be the day he became my dog.

Well, the little fucker has won me over. For the past few months he's started seeking out affection from his humans. He obeys most of the time, and he hardly ever becomes Pee Dog when emotionally overwhelmed. Most importantly, he lays his head on me and sighs when he's about to go to sleep. He's developing quirks and personality and he does funny things to amuse us all.

The squeeing in our household does not stop.

So this is my official declaration for those of you who've been listening to me pramble on about how I wasn't sure yet if we were a good fit: Mission Accomplished. Today I read a story about somebody's old dog getting put to sleep and was totally bummed out by the idea that it will happen to the Captain someday.

Little bastard took his time, but he finally has his hooks in me.

I still beat him mercilessly from time to time, to make sure he doesn't think he's completely in charge, but yeah. I'm glad I got him.

I'm also glad puppies don't stay puppies forever. Eeeesh!

Photo Post: April 2008

I took a whole mess of pictures on our bike ride yesterday. They got pruned down to the 30 best for web joy purposes. Here are some highlights.







Click for the whole gallery.

LEEEEECHES!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
THEY GOT THE CAPTAIN!

Spring, Springer, Springest!

The Springer arrived yesterday. It took me the entire evening and the help of three roomies, a hammer and a pineapple flavored lollipop (yes, really) to install it on the bike.

In the end it would not fit on the seat tube part in any configuration that didn't end with my heel slamming into the S-tube, so I ended up moving it up to the seat post instead. It still wiggles back and forth a bit when the dog really pulls, but that bitch is bolted on like whoa and it's not coming off anytime soon.

After it was installed, I put the harness on the Captain and took him out for a past-midnight ride around the town. It was not a positive introduction. When I snapped the lead in place, he was so terrified of the alien technology that was pulling on him that he yanked the spring mechanism almost horizontal in a bid for escape. When that failed, he threw himself splay-limbed to the ground and beseeched me with huge dark eyes full of trauma and betrayal.

I started walking the bike, and this drove him into another panic. He struggled and skidded and flailed, all to no effect. Then I hopped on the bike and said "let's go!"

All of a sudden it clicked in his tiny doggy brain that we were about to go on BIKE RUN, and all animosity toward the Springer was forgotten. We rode through the town, past the dog park, across major intersections, past birds and ducks and all the other distractions by which a dog could be enchanted. His pulling sometimes necessitated correction in my steering, but it wasn't bad at all. We flew along with him insisting on a full gallop nearly the entire time.

It was great.

Today the temperature got all the way up to 51 f, so I threw the harness back on him and we went out for another run. A nice short run was the plan, only it got a little out of control:



I was good for a longer trip, but the Captain had the squats and was starting to fade, so we turned back after we reached the next town. 5.2 miles, like it was nothing.

A few times he did pull me pretty hard, but the spring mechanism slows down the wavering enough to correct for even that much if you're paying attention. The only times I felt at risk were when I was riding too close to the edge of the pavement when he pulled from where he was running on the grassy part of the shoulder. One strong pull from there, and the wheel would pop off the pavement and the bike would jar, and balance was threatened. I'll need to be careful of that.

Also, the harness that comes with the Springer is a cheap little strap of rough nylon that slides around during the ride and bunches up against his shoulders and neck. It's a friction sore waiting to happen and I need to replace it with a proper harness as soon as I have money.

Conclusion: The Springer is a fucking amazing invention, and I am absolutely happy with its performance. The Captain loves it. I took his leash off in the front yard and he sat on the porch until I had the bike locked up and his poo bags thrown away. No interest in running away whatsoever--he wanted water, dinner and sleep in that order, and screw the squirrel in the yard next door.

At present, my high-energy huntin' dawg is stretched out on my bed in what appears to be a state of coma. I don't expect to hear from him for at least six hours.

To do list: New harness for puppydog, padded handlebar covers, and some serious padded gloves. Also I need to ice my left wrist if I ever want to use it again. Currently it's so weak and numb I can barely lift my iPod. Typing is starting to become painful, so I'm gonna get away from the computer and stick it in a brace now.

Man, I missed biking.

Kong King

Just now I went and cut a carrot in half for the Captain. One half I left plain, but the other got shoved into a Kong after some peanut butter and a scrap of corned beef.

This is a great low-cost snax for him, because carrots (his favorite of all the foods) are dirt cheap and it takes lots of delicate nibbling to get the whole piece out of a Kong.

Cut the carrot off flush with the opening of the Kong, and you're looking at at least two hours of canine hilarity, as long as the squelching noises don't bug you too much.

So then I made the Captain sit at my feet. On a whim I held two snax in front of him, carrot in left hand, Kong in right. I said "Which one?"

The Captain got this really serious expression and looked back and forth, back and forth from one hand to the other. Then he very deliberately turned his head to face the Kong, looked up at me, and briskly nodded his head up and down.

I repeated the question, offering him the choice between the snax. He glanced at the carrot, turned his full attention to the Kong, made eye contact with me, and nodded firmly.

As of this writing, he is making sweet sweet love to the Kong while stretched out on my bed, the very picture of puppy contentment. (I am so glad I put down an old bedsheet before I let him have peanut butter.)

But holy Jesus, this animal is smart. I taught him to nod when asked a question (any question; the rising note at the end is the key), and suddenly he's using it to communicate preferences.

The Heartworming Song of Spring

It got up to 50 degrees again today. The snow is melting for the first time since winter weather kicked in on December 1. Up in the blue sky, the geese are flying north under fluffy white clouds and a bright cheery sun. The sound of birdsong is everywhere.

And then I look down at the swamp of brown water I'm standing in. Soggy, mushy pale turds float serenely in cloudy brown puddles dotting the packed ice. The dog park has become a giant soup bowl. Or a toilet.

Someone put up a WTF DOGSHIT sign to alert the visitors that they suck ass and are fucking up the water table by leaving their pets' filth to drain into the Cannon river (which is twenty feet downhill from the park). Too late for the sentiment, though. I'm thinking it's game over in there for us until Evaporation Day. We'll just have to go rollerblading or bike riding together every day.

At one point during our visit, I yelled in vain as the Captain slurped enthusiastically at a puddle of this foul brew. He ignored me, as did the little white lab puppy who had come over to piss into the same pool. Dogs are like little living Japanese fetish videos.

Then and there I decided the time has come for a vet checkup and some additional vaccinations. He needs heartworm tests and possibly a crucifix and garlic necklace if he's ever going to be allowed in my bed again.

I was warned by the vet's assistant when I went in for a price quote that dog parks are a sure bet for at LEAST a case of the worms, and that's just the most obvious parasite. Imagine how much worse it'll get when our famous Minnesota biting insects join the fun.

However, the vet will require money, so I'm thinking I should fund it either through eBay or an art raffle. Expect to see more details on this within a week or so. I'd do commissions, but I still owe like four people and the list goes back several years. I am a failure in that field, and ought to stop setting myself up for further humiliation.

By the way, on my way out of the splashy chaos of the dog park, I met a woman on her way in with an immaculately groomed and combed sheltie in her arms. She was carrying her dog over a parking lot mud puddle and headed right into the bowels of hell itself. I felt like I had to warn her, and sure enough, she turned right around and took Fluffy back to the car. Fluffy was uberpissed; he probably wanted to roll in some half-frozen dew claw blood before dinnertime. But the lady was glad for the heads-up, so ha-ha, Fluffy. Ha-ha all OVER you.

Photo Post Mar/2008

Thing One: It shot up to 55 degrees f yesterday! I was outside in my t-shirt and enjoying the sunshine. Went for a walk at the riverside and found boulders of ice piled up in heaps from the river-bottom construction work.









Thing Two: I put a protest party hat on the Captain so he can celebrate L. Wrong Hubbard's birthday a few days early. He can't come to the real party so I thought I would cheer him up. I don't think it worked :(







Thing Three: HAHAHA I FOUND MY HAIR-DYE. AND IT DIDN'T GET RUINED BY THE COLD!







Reference for myself, in case I ever lose or need to replace the colors in the future:

V-Manic Panic "Plum" (perfect)
R-Manic Panic "Wildfire" (perfect)
O-N/A (Mix of R and Y, perfect)
Y-Manic Panic "Electric Banana*" (might try another less green shade)
G-Special Effects "Iguana Green" (perfect)
B-Special Effects "Electric Blue" (a bit too dark)

I want to see if I can find a slightly brighter blue next time. Electric stays in for ages but it's dark as hell at first. "Blue Mayhem" looks good.

Dog park update: the total of people who have complained in my presence about the chocolate lab's owners is now up to 4. All of them share my perceptions on the problem behavior, and one actually told me the owners aggressively refused to take their dog to the smaller "can't play nice" section of the park even after the lab bit another dog.

Time to email the website for the park and find out what step 2 is, I reckon. I assume somebody with authority and a sharp tongue will need to call them.

The guy with the Great Dane showed up again. That dog is such a fucking trip! Its slow-motion frolicking strikes awe into my heart every time I see it. It's like watching a giraffe try to tap-dance. Itchy dog, too. I scratched his rump a few times and he leaned on me and shimmied from side to side like a lunatic.

Game news: One Piece Unlimited Adventure is amazing, fantastic and a total blast--but it has FUCKED UP MY WRISTS SO BAD. why do all the coolest attacks require you to flail around with the WII-ener? I think I need to take a few days off to let the braces fix the damage.

And of course, this week's update will be late. It can't be helped; I've been enlisted to make ten signs (Four four us, six spares for the folks who made their own with ballpoint pens and wrinkled notebook paper)), and the big day is Saturday. I'll be swamped til then. All signs point to a more eventful protest--the Cult of Scientology has been trying unsuccessfully to get a restraining order against Anonymous so they can't protest on the public street in Clearwater!