A recent New York Times story , although unfairly judgmental of the current generation of canines, has caused me to take a rueful look at my own behavior and how I may be contributing to negative perceptions. The article's thesis is that while dogs in the olden days were noted for their heroic contributions (think Balto, Lassie, and Rin Tin Tin), the current generation is a smarmy, maladjusted me-generation of dogs whose acclaim comes from misbehaving on reality TV, or from being therapized by Cesar Milan.
From a personal standpoint, I feel that I do play an important positive role in both my family and my community. Not showy or dramatic, but important in terms of recognizing, honoring, and furthering relationships. On the other hand, the article's disparaging reference to a dog on "It's Me or the Dog" who sticks its tongue up its owner's nostril did touch a nerve, and reminds me that I need to work harder on recognizing appropriate boundaries.
The Wall Street Journal recently ran a story about a new resort for dogs, Spa Paws Hotel, in Fort Worth, Texas. Spa Paws' offerings include flat-screen TVs, turn-down service at night, and an atrium with robotic squirrels as the floor show. The resort will be anchored by a wellness center where pets can heal their bodies and minds via Eastern medicine.
While I applaud dog owners who like to pamper their canines, this level of luxury does seem a bit indulgent in the current economic climate. Maybe Spa Paws could offer an option to forego the facial and give the money instead to an organization like No Paws Left Behind, which assists dogs whose families face foreclosure.
So, everyone wants to know where I've been.
I've been right here. Resting.
Thomas came home, so I haven't needed to update my status as regularly. And he's been using the camera so there haven't been as many Lambie photo ops.
And I've needed the respite so that I could focus all my psychic energies on curing Andrew Bynum's knee.
Recently a woman has been coming to the bluff and letting her dog roam free while ignoring his defecation.
Yesterday Winnie and Trudie's owner addressed the matter with her. He pointed out that everyone on the bluff had seen her dog poop a few minutes before, and that if she was going to bring the dog to the bluff she needed to take responsibility for cleaning up its excrement.
In a breathtakingly original variant on 'I didn't inhale,' the woman responded that, although she had seen her dog squat, she hadn't seen anything come out of him.
But then, apparently newly mindful that we were holding her accountable, she rose to the occasion, walked over and picked up the poop.
We have standards at the bluff.
Nene and I met up at the Samulon bench.
Nene wanted to move on to the Anna Walker Steere bench, but I remonstrated with him. It's common knowledge that that bench is located at the edge of a precipice. Danger is its middle name.
But Nene went down there anyway.
He parked himself at the bluff edge and dared his owner to do something about it.
The owner turned to a seasoned diplomat to try to reason with Nene.
Finally I talked him back from the precipice.
Oftentimes diplomacy really amounts to just so much sheep-herding.
So, I see that the Palisades has picked a winning motto for this year's Fourth of July parade: "Small Town, Big Heart."
As these things go, it's okay, but it doesn't seem very Lambie-centric. "Small Town, Big Poop," would have been better. Or, "Small Dog, Big Stomach." Or even,"Nice Bluffs, Many Ground Squirrels."
Of course, I realize that I have only myself to blame, since I didn't enter the contest.
Next year I'm going to enter a slogan. It's my civic duty, plus I think that I'd really enjoy the victor's reward of riding on the fire truck during the parade.
Ava and Tommy and I got together to exchange thoughts on local and national events.
As we strolled and compared insights, I found myself flattered at how interested they were in this old dog's perspective. Anyone who says young people don't care hasn't met these kids.
They followed along closely as I walked them through my take on the world.
Then I listened intently as Ava shared hers.
It's great to connect with youth, although influencing young minds is also a big responsibility.
The rain stopped for a little while, so of course I went out to the bluffs.
Having been cooped up all day, I was ready for some action.
My friends Callie and Sisi were there.
Things got a bit competitive when Callie and I both wanted to flirt with the same gentleman.
However, he deftly made us both feel special and important, so there were no hurt feelings.
All too soon, it seemed, everyone moved on.
Leaving just me, and the mud.
I got to work right away on some of my New Year's resolutions -- specifically, those dealing with exercise and excretion.
First, I took a very long walk with my associates Buddy and Killer. By the end we were exhausted, especially me.
I took a few hours to rest.
Then I undertook learning how to use the doggie door.
It was fairly pleasant. My training team had taped up one piece of the airlock door, so I only had to go through one layer of plastic.
I had a lot of encouragement from my trainers, and they arranged for me to enjoy delicious treats on the other side.
I was a heroic and outstanding student, if I do say so myself.
So far, though, this is just an agreeable pastime involving intermittent reinforcement. I have not yet reached a Helen Keller-"W-A-T-E-R"-type epiphany where I catch on that I should run out this door when I need to void my bowels. Perhaps that will come later. Or maybe not. It's not an easy connection to make.
