Kerouac

It's time. Wacko has fought the good fight, but time catches up to even the fastest of dogs.

And when I met him, he was a fast dog. Maybe not greyhound fast, but junkyard fast. I remember one time when he got out from Brenna's fenced yard in Janesville, and I took off after him, he took me on a merry chase. He knew how fast I was -- or, more properly, how fast I wasn't -- and I could never get close enough to nab him. He would just keep wandering through yards, sniffing trees, until I would get ever.. so.. close........ and the he would dash off again leaving me grabbing at empty space. Eventually he worked his way over to a very busy Milton Ave and I was very worried he would dart into traffic, but no, he just kept up his tree sniffing until finally I nabbed him. Only to realize I was half a mile from Brenna's with no leash in my hand. And so I threw him over my shoulders in a fireman's carry and walked home, to the amusement of all the Janesvillians driving home from work (and the bewilderment of one confused dog).

When it was time to move Brenna and the girls and the pets to Cleveland, it was Wacko and I driving the moving van, while Brenna and the girls (and our friend Jan) drove in the car. It felt like our domestic little remake of Smokey and the Bandit, with Wacko and I playing the roles of Fred and Snowman. I think of that trip often, of him sitting the cab next to me, looking all around, with that happy dog smile that said "this is gonna be fun!", no matter we were headed.

Upon moving into my house, Wacko had four -- count 'em, four -- cats to cohabitate with. When Wacko first walked through the door, Nelson's eyes fell out of his head and Healy puffed up to about 3 times his normal size (Pearl and Tango, having lived with the dog at Brenna's, were used to the situation, of course....). Nonetheless, they all learned to tolerate each other, for the most part. In all their times together, I only heard Wacko bark at the cats a handful of times, and I am 100% certain the cats deserved it, and more.

What else to say about this dog?

Oh, living in Cleveland Heights -- the world's skunk capital -- he got skunked only once. Once. (On Halloween night, no less....) That's gotta be some kind of special right there.

I think this picture sums up Wacko:



I mean, he's always been there, he's always been a part of our lives together. He's not intrusive, he's not barking, he's not insisting, he's not demanding attention, but he's always in the picture somewhere. He's just been such a huge piece of the crazy puzzle that is our life.

He's always been a chow hound extraordinaire, and an excellent dishwasher. The only time I saw him pass on leftovers was the infamous Krabby Patty incident. In fact, he's still an excellent dishwasher. Tonight, struggling to stand, he still managed to clean all the spaghetti plates. And look up for more when he was done.

Oh, I'm going to miss this dog. But it's his time, and I know we're making the right decision at the right time. But that doesn't make it easier. So here he is tonight, one last picture with the girls:


So tomorrow morning, we're paying the price you pay, as Brenna says, for loving an animal, and doing the last thing you can do for them. We're letting him go.

And I'm gonna miss you, Kerouac. Something fierce.

Random Picture Dump and Stream of Consciousness Thoughts

Sorry, folks, I just haven't been in blog writing mode recently. Maybe it has something to do with my football teams being pummeled week in and week out, maybe it has to do with busy times at work, maybe it just has to do with being out and out lazy.

So in the meantime, until I get motivated to write more, here are a few pictures:

Thalia and Nelson, watching TV:


Pearl, who just, by sheer coincidence, happened to be walking by the stove while there was a leftover chicken nugget lying around. She swears she had no idea that it was up there.


OK, what the hey, I've started a blog post, so here's what else is on my mind:

• Coming home from Target yesterday we were listening to (what else?) the Rolling Stones. "Let it Bleed" came on. Abra piped up "there's a Glee version of this song!" uh, really? Now I don't know the first thing about Glee, other than it seems like some up-with-people pop soap opera thingie. And I can't imagine them doing "Let it Bleed". So we went back and forth on this for a while, and finally worked out that Abra was thinking of "Lean on Me", not "Let It Bleed". Too bad -- I was looking forward to seeng how are they were going to work in lines such as "oh that jaded, faded, junkie nurse // what pleasant company!".

• Wacko is in desperate need of a haircut, but has gotten too old to deal with the groomer. So the poor dog is going to have to deal with Brenna and I being his groomer. Pictures when we're done, but I am reminded of my kindergarten picture, where my father literally had given me a bowl haircut the day before.... The good news out of this is that as near as I can tell, the grooming clippers are close enough to the ones the haircut place uses on me, so when I'm done with the dog, I'll just start in on myself.

• RichRod.... sigh. Yeah, it's time, Michigan, time to let him go. I'm fine with the progress made on the offense, but watching the defense take backwards steps each year has gotten me at the end of my rope. I'd live with a coaching change on defense, but we've already had that, and still things go worse. I'm not going to beat this issue to death -- volumes are being written online right now about this (and here's one I mostly agree with). But suffice to say: while I'm not a card carrying member of Ann Arbor Torch & Pitchfork, I'm going to advocate cutting our losses on this one.

• The Redskins -- was there anyone on God's green Earth that didn't know the Redskins were gonna lose to the Vikings last weekend once Minnesota got rid of Brad Childress?

• Thursday Lebron comes back to Cleveland. This is going to be interesting, to say the least. I'm not above enjoying watching the Heat struggle so far this season.

OK, that's it for now. Hopefully next time I'll be more interesting....

Yet Another Picture Dump

OK, many pictures long delayed. In quasi-chronological order:

Abra gets her first library card:



Remember the wall-painting fiasco from a few months ago? Where I painted and then repainted? Here's why. Here's a shot of the corner of the dining room. On the right is the original color that I painted. It looked good on the card, but turned out a bit too electric on the wall. On the left is the second attempt. Much less electric, much more sage. It looks better. And at the bottom, you can see the red. We're reasonably happy with this combo:



And then here's the time I saw the cats fighting over a box, and upped the ante by sprinkling catnip inside. That provided significant comic relief. First Healy took control:


But Pearl took offense, and a catfight ensued:



Now while Nelson looks to be a disinterested watcher in that last picture, he took advantage of the melee to take control of the box:



But Pearl took offense, and a catfight ensued:



And so in the end, She-elzebub herself took control and the boys ran away:



In other news, the other day I went upstairs and noticed this array set up in the playroom. Who can tell what it is?:



Yes, it's a stage. Risers in the back, microphone and drums set up on stage, and the stuffed animals in front, about to rush the stage. It's like a Nickelodeon version of "Gimme Shelter"...

More cat shenanigans. Tango enjoys boxes, which led to this lolcat moment. GET OUTTA MY BEER, CAT!



Abra had a formal party tonight, and so she got a new dress and one to match her American Girl doll. But who can figure out my absolute favorite part of this picture?



And finally, this is what I made for dinner tonight. It tasted as good as it looked:



That's all for now!

Thalia Reads

OK, this picture was just too darned cute to resist putting up. Thalia is reading, very carefully sounding out the words (wish I had an audio file to attach -- maybe next time) to her book "A Glob of Glue", while Wacko looks on.


Look at her little pink feet!

Ding Dong! Arf Arf! Hush!

Our doorbell is old and cracked, and although it is still functional, I thought it would be nice to replace it with something a bit more welcoming and nice. (See, I'm not always cheap cheap cheap. I shelled out $6.99 for a fancy new light-up doorbell!)

So today I was on the front porch messing around with removing and replacing the doorbell. So, I'm testing it, wiggling it, bumping it, etc, etc, and every time I mess with it, it rings. Ding Dong! Ding Dong!

No big deal, except that we have a dog who barks every time he hears the door bell. Every. Time.

So for about 10 minutes, we had this going on at the house:

Doorbell: DING DONG!
Wacko: Arf! Arf!
Me: Hush!
(pause)
Doorbell: DING DONG!
Wacko: Arf! Arf!
Me: Hush!
(pause)
Doorbell: DING DONG!
Wacko: Arf! Arf!
Me: Hush!
(pause)
Doorbell: DING DONG!
Wacko: Arf! Arf!
Me: Hush!
etc.
etc.
etc....

WackJob!!

So Wacko got his summer cut down today. Here's the before and after picture:

Since Wacko's gotten back from the groomer, Healy has been all Halloween-cat around the poor dog -- arched back, bottlebrush tail, etc. I don't think Healy is convinced that it's the same dog.

Dog Revenge

So yesterday it was time for Wacko to get washed. When he saw me coming downstairs calling him while holding a towel, he started sidling into the kitchen and tried to bolt for the basement. I grabbed his collar and he let out one of those great Wacko sighs and slowly followed me upstairs.

In the bathroom, he tried again to make a break for the door, but I eventually herded him into the shower, where, with good Wacko grace, he put up with me washing him down. Afterwards, I left him in the bathroom for a good 20 minutes so he could shake a lot of the water out. Finally, I let him out of the bathroom and he rather pitifully and dramatically made a slow, pained walk down the stairs.

At which point, I got occupied with other things.

Then at bedtime, Brenna called him for his late night walk. I went back upstairs into our bedroom and beheld quite a curious sight.

Evidently after his bath, he jumped up on our bed and pulled the comforter back. Not the whole thing, mind you, but just my side. Then he must have laid down on the exposed sheet and pillow and taken a comfy nap while he dried off. My side of the bed was wet and smelled like dog. Brenna's side was immaculate.

This was no coincidence. Brenna's giving him his bath next time.

(No Country for Old Men Update: #206)

Paging Dr. Braunschweiger

Wacko is getting up there in years, and sometimes appears to be getting kind of slow moving the old hip joints. So I figure maybe arthritis is starting to show.

We got him a bottle of glucosamine/chondritin tablets -- meat flavored, no less -- which is supposed to be a big help with doggie arthritis. When I tried to give it to him I rolled it up in a piece of salami. He started to eat the gluchon-laced salami, bit down -- crrrrunch! -- and gave me a look of what I can only describe as pure disappointment and resignation. "Oh, human," he seemed to be saying, "did you really just try and slip me something in the middle of this tasty salami? And to think I trusted you." Then -- spitAW! -- out came the tablet and he walked off.


So we needed a new strategy -- what does this dog love more than life itself? What does he love so much that he wouldn't even blink an eye about wolfing it down with a little health supplement hidden inside? Yes, that's right -- braunschweiger! (aka "liverwurst"). Mmmmmm, braunschweiger...

Brenna went out and bought a big package of braunschweiger and now each day I secretly hide the gluchon pill inside and he inhales it without a second thought -- this has earned him the title "Dr. Braunschweiger". So now every time it's time for his pill, I yell "Paging Dr. Braunschweiger" and he comes running in, along with "Nurse Hopeful", his little grey-and-white assistant.

Another little vignette from our lives....

Lawyers and Dogs

First of all, the good news: Brenna passed the Ohio bar exam. We're not surprised by this, of course, but we are very pleased. Now she can do all that lawyering stuff here in Ohio...









Wacko, meanwhile, has decided on a new place to sleep at night:


Abra crashes so hard that she never knows he's there. I saw him and Pearl on Abra's bed last night, fighting for a spot, and Wacko was walking back and forth across the bed, stepping over Abra, and she stayed zonked out through the whole battle. She's a good sleeper!

An Exciting Day

So today Wacko finally went to the groomer (U Dirty Dog) to get his summer haircut. Thanks to all of you who voted to spare him the worst of the razor. Instead, he got a haircut that's short enough to keep him cool, but not so short that he looks like a mutant from Planet X. Here he is:



(Here's a "before" picture to remind you of what he used to look like....)

But while I am standing at the counter at U Dirty Dog picking him up, my cell phone rings, and it's Brenna saying that we have to take Thalia to the emergency room. Evidently Thalia's head lost a battle with the arm of a rocking chair (which is pretty impressive -- I would have bet that Thalia's head is the harder of the two...).

So I zip home and we pack everyone in the car for the first of what is sure to be many family trips to the pediatric emergency room. They did a great job, and so did Thalia -- she sat through them putting a stitch in her eyebrow without a single tear or cry. That's my brave girl! (Abra, of course, was chattering away -- luckily the doctor was good at simultaneously sewing and answering the questions of a 5 year old). So here's our girl is posing with her brand new bandage:




So now both girls are in bed, the newly shorn dog is asleep, and the cats are all suspiciously wondering what all the hubbub was about. Just another fine day in the Mihowski household....

Wacko Shave-down Poll

So Brenna usually has Wacko shaved down each spring. This year, Wacko pulled me aside and whispered "ix-nay on the ave-shay." Now, I can understand his reluctance -- I suspect all the other dogs laugh and point at him when this happens. So I figure we'll see what our devoted MGW blog readers have to say about the issue -- should he get shaved this spring or not??? The poll is below, feel free to weigh in.

To help you with your decision, I'll first post a picture of him with his beautiful long coat:



Isn't he a fantastic looking dog??? And now, in the interest of a fair and balanced presentation of both sides of the issue, here is what he looked like after his shave-down last spring:



Hmm. Well, as they say "We report; you decide." So here's your chance to weigh in: shave, or not?

Observatory Blues

So I'm up at the telescope at Kitt Peak. We're in a cloud. Winds are gusting over 60 mph -- it sounds like the windows are being sandblasted. It's cold, inside and out. And the weather isn't supposed to get better for another few days. Grumble, grumble.

Meanwhile, the dog is back home living the life of Riley with his new friends:

Wacko (left) with Oscar (right), living it up at Ann's.

Oh, to be a dog....