He’s Kinda Dumb

Chubs is our two-year-old Bull Shih-Tzu.  He combines the disinterest of an English Bulldog with the individuality of an Shih Tzu, leaving him indifferently clueless. 

I just watched him drink from the toilet (yes, I should make him drink from a water bowl, but it doesn’t bother him and is easier on me), wander over to my wife (on the floor exercising) and stand over her, dripping a rain of dog slobber/toilet water.  Once informed it wasn’t funny I was asked to call him away.  He stared at me for a couple of seconds (still dripping) and then wandered my way. 

I had a bulldog, Roblyer, that was brilliant…stubborn but brilliant…so I understand how bulldogs think.  Chubs is not brilliant.  Last summer I was carrying a 4x8 sheet of roof decking around the side of the house.  He came walking toward me from about ten feet away on a path on an incline.  With what I assume had to be an ‘oh-no’ look, he trotted head-on into the edge of the board, yelped and rolled about five feet down the hill.

He’s show’s signs of brain function.  Being a mix of English Bulldog, weighing 45 to 55 pounds and a Shih Tzu weighing 12 to 16 pounds we expected he’d weigh 35 or 40 pounds.  That’s small enough to climb into your lap when you’re watching TV, and so he did as a pup.  Chubs didn’t average, he added, coming in at a thick (but not fat) 65 pounds.  While the concept that garden hoses aren’t chew toys evades him, he’s smart enough to call back to those lapdog days when the wife sits down to watch TV.

I’ve had little to no success training him except to eat when I feed him and close his eyes when I scratch his rump, but the wife taught him to sit and stay (in slightly under 2 weeks).  According to her he just needs affection and treats to behave well.  Oddly, she rejects that premise for me.

Fortunately he’s a beautiful animal, thick like a bulldog with a slightly less squashed nose.  He’s colored white/dark-gray/tan brindle with white socks and collar.  You’d be hard pressed to find a more attractive specimen of canine flesh.  He’s the George Clooney of Bull-Shih-Tzus

And he’s soft.  He’s short haired like a bulldog but his fur lacks the needle-esk texture of my other bulldogs (I’ve had to remove hairs like a splinter from my feet from past animals), it’s softer and slicker.  A thick body and soft fur make him great for petting, and petting is one of the main reasons a person has a dog.  He’s great to pet…if he hasn’t recently been swimming in a pond…or rolled in something dead.  He’s great to pet about 50% of the time.

A pet doesn’t have to be intelligent to be good, they also don’t have to be soft or attractive, but it’s a nice bonus.  Chubs is good hearted, sweet and well behaved…most of the time…but he’s kinda dumb.

I’m Not Pushed Hard

Surpassing the average life expectancy I don’t suppose we can call either’s passing “tragic” but the instructional twins, Dear Abby and Ann Landers are gone (not news, the last one kicked off a year and a half ago).  Always looking for opportunities, I’m thinking I should follow in their shoes.

Am I qualified for the position…barely a problem, situation or dilemma arises in which I don’t have an opinion.  Give me a day or two to ruminate and solutions abound.  To fortify my case I’m going to answer a few “Dear Abby” and “Ann Landers” questions from past years. 

Break: That’s where I was on the blog before I started looking at the questions.  It took several attempts before I realized people who write to advice columnists don’t need advice, they need common sense. It’s hard to show compassionate to the stupid.  Below are a few examples…I’m not proud of my work.

“Is it OK for a husband to spank his wife?”  Hell yes! if she’d into that sort of stuff.

“How do you explain to a man how uncomfortable hot flashes are?”  Explaining female issues to men is like explaining to your dog the rationale behind not jumping on visitors: his brain doesn’t have the ability to process the information.  Kick his feet from under him, speak in an angry voice and he’ll learn how to act.

“Our son was married last weekend, and because we’re of Celtic heritage, I chose to wear a beautiful dress from Ireland. Because it has short sleeves I brought a shawl to keep warm. When I asked my husband why he never said I looked nice, he replied he didn’t know whether I looked nice because he “couldn’t see me under that damned blanket!”  What can I do to get past this awful feeling that we’re going in opposite directions?”  Ask your doctor about hormone therapy.

 “My girlfriend doesn’t understand the difference between joking with my friends and serious flirting.  How can I help her?”  Yes she does…dumbass.

"Can a boy be normal and knit in public?"  Nope.

“I spend some of my time communicating with and texting male friends from the past and one of my ex-husbands.  Is this considered cheating?”  Soon.

“My wife and I are getting a divorce.  We have no children but want to negotiate shared custody of our dog.  Should I get a lawyer?”  Get a vasectomy.

After reading a bundle of “Dear Abby” and “Ann Landers” questions I’ve classified them into three categories: people who already know the answer but don’t like it, people who are complaining about situations they have no intention of changing and those who were raised in cribs covered in lead paint.    

Decent advice would sound something like “try a preacher, a therapist or booze”… I’m not interested in decent advice, I’m more interested in entertaining myself.  Since bad advice could prove detrimental I’m pushed toward avoiding advice columnist.  Since anyone seeking advice from an advice columnist deserves what they get, I’m not pushed hard. 

Focused On Personal Goals

As of Monday summer is here.  No exams to grade, no labs to set up, no schedule to follow.  That’s not to say I won’t be busy, the yard won’t mow itself, but this summer I’d like to achieve a few personal goals.

Not ‘personal goals’ like when a mid-lifer proclaims they’re taking ‘time for themselves’ to train for a marathon or get another degree, I gave up those dreams years ago.  I mean simply, goals not associated with the betterment of my job, family or home. 

The first and foremost of those goals is eight hours of sleep every night.  That may not seem difficult but I assure you, it’s frustratingly elusive during the school year.  Evenings are packed with prepping for the next day, attending sports and activities, general house and life upkeep and a deep seeded need to have piddle time.  That usually means even if I’m done with everything in time for a good night’s sleep I’ll be up another hour or two watching Jimmy Fallon or playing the banjo (I’m a terrible banjo player but nobody can tell because even great banjo playing still sounds like a banjo). 

This summer, even if I have to mow through the heat of the day and toil until well after dark, I’m not getting out of bed until I’ve finished sleeping.  Fans, flood lights and heat-stroke be damned, I will get my eight hours!

The next personal goal is naps (do you see a pattern developing?).  I hope to get a thirty minute nap every day.  Maybe after I’ve had lunch or before supper.  Naps are a sign of success like fat bank accounts and name brand toilet paper.  They are opulent: not only will I get enough sleep to be healthy; I’ll get a little extra.   They’re like eating at a Chinese buffet or buying a bottomless tub of popcorn at the movies.  And I’ll nap in the living room, in the recliner under the afghan my Great Aunt Minnie crocheted me as a child…I’d like to see Warren Buffet do better than that.

My third personal goal for the summer is fishing, something I’ve not made much time for in recent years.  With the drought it’s a goal that’s nearly out of my hands but I’ll still wet a hook while there’s water.  Fishing is relaxing, tranquil and good for the soul.  Some of the greats were fishermen: Jesus, Thoreau, both my grandfathers.  I’ve even invested in new tackle, though I’m more a bait fisherman, it allows for action when their biting and napping when they’re not (2 goals in one).

These goals may seem a bit self-serving…because they are.  Last summer I dedicated a lot of time to building projects and trainings for work.  Those were good, having made me better at my job and improving my home.  This summer I’ve already spent time getting better at my job, and may have a home project or two, but I’m throwing in a big heap of ‘for me’, a dose of selfishness, and a sprinkle of anti-altruism. 

Sometimes we give to others, sometimes we give to ourselves.  With balance, intent and recognition I think both are healthy.  The next month and a half will be focused on personal goals.