Four Legs Good, Two Legs Tired

Adding a new family member is always a trip, even if it’s an animal and not a human. This past weekend our family got a bit bigger when we decided to add another dog to our little zoo. If you’re keeping track, our household now consists of 2 dogs, 2 cats and 2 humans. Even taking into account the “man’s best friend” factor, the humans are clearly at a disadvantage now. The balance of power has shifted decidedly in favor of the animals.

Enter: Rufus

Internet, meet Rufus. Rufus, Internet.

Rufus is a 9-month old Carolina Dog. He’s a howling, jumping, chewing, stealing, sniffing, panting, wagging, bumbling, endearing and—occasionally—tinkling ball of sheer, goofy insanity. His back end and his front end are on uncertain terms regarding direction. He has the odd habit of approaching you sideways when called, looking more and more like a cashew as he draws closer until finally wrapping his body around your legs in a very improbable fashion. He has an astonishing repertoire of bizarre vocalizations. At this young age, he has waaaay too much head and leg and walks with the odd, mincing gait of a Lipizzan.

In short, he is awesome.

Crashing the Pack
So far, big sister Maya (our 5-year old Carolina Dog) loves Rufus. The introduction could not have gone smoother and I am very proud of how Maya has treated the new guy. She’s been patient with his thievery and upstart antics and has taken to him extremely well. I think she’s glad for the company.

Esmé—by far the most, er, difficult of the pack—has done very well for a cat and incredibly well given her track record. She hasn’t drawn any blood yet, which is a landmark. A couple of clawless pops to the snout established the precise nature of the relationship and so far both parties are honoring the agreement. Besides, Esmé’s pretty easy to manage: give her plenty of food and more attention than any living thing could possibly need and she stays in good spirits.

Buzzy has torn an opening in the underside of our box spring and taken to hiding therein. He sneaks out occasionally for food and other necessities but hasn’t spent a significant amount of time downstairs all week.

He’s a little shy. I don’t blame him. He and I have been the only males in the house for a while now. Frankly, I’m a little shell-shocked myself. We’ll come around.

So How Could Anyone Part With Animals Like These?
Rufus comes to us by way of Tennessee where he was rescued from the streets and an almost certain death sentence in the local shelters. Thanks to a devoted network of rescue volunteers, amazingly sweet, beautiful, fun and—believe me—grateful animals like Rufus are spared from euthanasia, given temporary foster care, and finally shuffled off to better lives in loving homes.

All four of the animals living with us are rescues. Esmé and Buzzy literally lived in dumpsters. Maya was on death row in Georgia with a couple of days left ‘til the gas chamber (I wish I were joking). Though they may have their little quirks, these are four of the most amazing companions my wife and I could’ve asked for. So, without turning this into a PSA or anything, I feel compelled to say that if you’re thinking of getting a pet of any kind, please consider going to a shelter first. Our experience has been extremely rewarding.

Thanks for reading.

Flying Lessons

I look up
at stars
or down
over fields of clouds
and I wish there were more
(I hope there is more)
but I don't know that there is
and cannot know
because for all the
voices of god
in the world
I don't know any one of them
to have
always
been
true
and when I look up
at stars
or down
over fields of clouds
I don't know
the voice
which speaks
these holy moments
to me
to be anyone's but my own

-

NW259 Detroit to Phoenix

THANK YOU:
iPod, Barkmarket, Blacktail, Rwake, Milligram, RAWRADARWAR, Converge, Grief, Sleep, Jetfuel, Refused, High on Fire, etc.

For giving my head a place to find cover.

NO THANK YOU:
Row 13, Seat F - Useless, dishrag dad
Row 13, Seat E - Whining, punching bag mom & hysterical daughter
Row 13, Seat D - Screeching, violent, feral monkey son

For making the 4 1/2-hour flight feel like 4 1/2 days.

It is always amazing to me the ability of some parents to sit in idiotic, oblivious calm while their children do everything in their power to inspire murderous thoughts in others.

Here's to 21st century soft-serv parenting.

[Insert image of middle fingers held aloft here]

More Time in the Desert

Tomorrow morning my wife and I will board a plane bound for Arizona.

It will be good to be in the desert again. The return is well-timed.

I don't know where my head is at with so many things. Maybe this will help.

There will, no doubt, be a god damn lot of pictures.

This stumbling transcendentalist staggers on.

See you in a day or seven.