Entries in the Category "dogs"
Daily Awwwwwww
Here's a lovely story that's unfolded over the past weekend. I go pretty regularly to this site called Tomato Nation, where (in addition to the cookie, candy and cereal rankings that drew me there in the first place) the sitemaster, Sarah Bunting, sometimes mobilizes her mass of readers to donate to charities or contribute to various efforts. A couple days ago someone wrote in asking for publicity for her friend, whose dog Zeus needed surgery to remove his poor diseased eyes. This friend of hers had started her own blog with a place for donations on it, but the money (the procedure was estimated in the 2K-range) was trickling in rather slowly.
So Sarah posted this letter with a link to Zeus's blog. Within ONE DAY the dog's surgery was paid for, and then some.
It really is amazing--the amazing feats of kindness that can be achieved via grassroots efforts like this one. The fact that it is all due to a blog (which have such reputations for self-centeredness). Also, the level of compassion that people feel for their pets. Just looking at Zeus's blog makes me want to race home and give my girl Skylar a hug. (Look at the picture on that last entry I linked to. We have that exact same orange ball, though lately Sky's been favoring a blue frisbee.) I want to contribute money to the SPCA or something.
All the more impressive because Bunting herself is a cat person. Click here for one of my favorite of her essays, about meows in translation. This is my favorite: "I ate a leaf and you said not to and I ate it and it tasted bad and now I'm angry."
(Skylar says: "What's this 'your bed too' nonsense?" Also, "Hope you're feeling better soon, Zeus. And give back my orange ball.")
30 Before 30 (Six Month Progress Update), Part 2
Yesterday's entry was about achievement and progress and today's entry is about goals which may or may not be attainable, but which, in my naivete, I set for myself last May.
Here are the list items that I am scared to do or confused about how to do (as well as some which, through no fault of my own, have been modified) which, as yet, I still fantasize that I someday check off on "30 Before 30."
Continue reading "30 Before 30 (Six Month Progress Update), Part 2"
Sky is hilarious
Sometimes my dog cracks me up. When she's been alone for awhile--while I'm at school or out running errands--she gets really excited to see me come home, and sometimes she channels this excitement into chewing on one of her toys. Thus, she'll often meet me at the door with a stuffed animal clutched between her teeth. (Or maybe I'm misinterpreting this; maybe it's actually an offer. "I'm so glad you came home! Here, have a frog!")
Anyway, I always let her outside to relieve herself after I've been gone for a few hours, and she usually she carries her friend outside with her. So today, I did not consider it unusual that when I got home from the grocery store, Skylar met me at the door with a little teddy bear dangling from her mouth.
Then she decided to do something new: she raced outside, trotted over to the grass, spit out the bear, turned herself around to look at me, and excitedly peed all over the bear.
If for no other reason than that they are sometimes so stupid, dogs are a joy forever.
Movie Reviews: The Boxer as Everyman
See my previous entry on Hoop Dreams, about how sports narratives, despite their inherent strength, are virtually lost on me, and this entry will all make a lot more sense.
It fascinates me, honestly, that two extremely iconic American movies are centered around boxing, which seems to me to be such a marginalized sport. You don’t see it on TV that often. You don’t see celebrities made of boxers the way you see celebrities made of football players, baseball players and basketball players. (With some exceptions, i.e., boxers I have heard of: Mike Tyson, Muhammed Ali, and the guy Russell Crowe played in Cinderella Man. That is all.)
Watching two boxing movies because the AFI made me was an interesting experience, then. As I watched and mused on how gross boxing is, I questioned why people (men mostly, probably) find the story of the boxer so universal. Part of it is primal, I’m sure: the urge to blot out the competition of another male of the species by pummeling him, injuring him, shaming him. Rocky in particular positioned the sport as being uniquely blue collar, a sport for working class schlubs, which seems appropriate for the 70s, which I always imagine was a very scrappy decade. Scorsese, with Raging Bull, seemed to find something very poetic about De Niro destroying himself in the ring while he unraveled outside of it. Hit him with a metaphorical punch in the street and then drive it home with a literal punch in the ring, basically. Again, narratively effective.
But I won’t explore that too much. For my own part, I find it hard to remove my own feminine experience from movie watching. That’s why you’ll never hear me say that Rocky or Raging Bull (or Saving Private Ryan, or Platoon) is my favorite movie; I’m going to name a movie with some incredible actress like Katharine Hepburn in it, that has themes that I can relate to intimately. That’s what makes a movie a favorite, as opposed to great. All critics agree on this, incidentally; the best movie in the world is not necessarily one’s favorite.
Raging Bull had, to put it bluntly, nothing to offer a woman. The culture of this movie was patriarchal Italian life, where women were for making sons, or to be hit when they said something disagreeable. Where when something important had to be discussed, it was demanded that they left the room. I respect Martin Scorsese as a director—and not just because he made the incredibly woman-friendly The Age of Innocence, but also for Goodfellas and The Departed, both of which I loved—but the environment that was so vividly portrayed in Raging Bull was rather offensive to me. There’s really no other way to put it. I’m glad that people and critics have connected with the movie as much as they have, that they find something universal in its message. It was utterly lost on me, I’m afraid.
On the other hand, I didn’t mind the experience of watching Rocky at all. The underdog story kind of got to me—the first time I saw him try to run up those steps, and he didn’t make it, I thought, “Oh, you’ll do it eventually! I’ve seen that.” Rocky’s fumbly little romance with plain Jane Adrian was really quite sweet.
The thing I did not like about the movie was that Stallone sold himself out to such an extent later. There’s a moment in Rocky, where Burgess Meredith the old trainer offers to coach Rocky since Rocky has been challenged by Apollo and suddenly has earning potential. Rocky shouts that the guy should have coached him when he was younger and could have made something of himself because now he’s all broken down. He’s approaching 30 and he’s not in top shape for the game anymore. It’s a poignant moment.
Until the sequels. Then he wins. He wins all the time. And by the fourth movie he’s pulling a damn bobsled and felling ancient trees. And then it’s thirty years later and he’s still fighting! Too bad Stallone didn’t have the guts to let the first Rocky speak for itself; he might’ve had a very different career if he’d made a different choice. But whatever, he didn’t consult me about it.
My favorite kind of boxer:
Notes to Dog Owners
On behalf of Skylar.
To dog owners everywhere, but especially in my neighborhood:
- Yes, you have to pick up your dog’s poop. Don’t think that because I have a dog that I am secretly with you on this whole “leaving it there” thing. I walk these sidewalks and yards every single day. I don’t want to step in that pile any more than the nice person who lives in that house does. Don’t want to pay for poop bags? Use grocery bags. Don’t buy groceries? Who are you?
- Retractable leashes are stupid. They allow you basically no control over your dog. I’m talking especially to you, teenage girl from the other day whose collie raced into the road while you waited patiently on the curb. That’s because the dog pulled a bunch of extra leash out of that contraption in your hand. And what could you do when that happened? That’s right. Nothing.
- My dog will not give your dog smallpox. It’s OK for you to walk it over to mine and let the dogs say hello, rather than giving me that wide berth on the sidewalk. My dog will not fight yours; she is sweet and just wants to say hello. If you expect that your dog might try to fight mine, it should be trained to not do that. P.S., that is your responsibility.
- On a related note, “socialization,” i.e., regular exposure to other dogs, is healthy, normal, and widely recommended for your little princess there. Look into it.
- Training your dog in the basics is not that hard, and you should do it for the benefit of you, your dog, and anyone who comes in contact with you. Associate bad behaviors with bad results (saying “NO!” or “bad” in a harsh tone) and good behaviors with good results (petting, saying “good girl”). Also, learn the difference between a dog doing something bad, and a dog who is simply distracted. Nine times out of ten Skylar only does something bad because she is bored or being ignored. Saying “no!” and then demanding that she sit in front of me and shake hands pulls her right back out of it.
- “Controlling” your dog is not a bad thing. Neither is “leading” nor “bossing.” Dogs are pack animals and want to follow someone’s lead. If your dog is acting out, it might be because the dog senses that you are ineffectual. Dogs do not want to act independently, to be left alone, or to follow their bliss. The dog does not need to be prepared to someday leave the nest and fend for itself. You can and should tell it what to do.
- Having said that, dogs are neither our punching bags nor our home furnishings. They are living creatures and deserve respect, kindness, and attention.
Skylar thanks you for reading.
