It wasn't his fault.

It wasn't his fault.

That's the only thing I could think of when animal control lead him away.

It wasn't his fault.

We found him early this morning, hanging outside the offices. He was dusty, dirty, and hot. It appeared he'd been hanging around for sometime.

I held him by collar in the legal department and fed him some water from an empty cool whip container. He didn't have tags on. The ladies in legal searched the municipal database for a dog that matched his description, but to no avail.

The local animal control had to be called.

He sat with me at my desk, tongue hanging out and panting. He yearned to be petted, and when I did so I was rewarded with a lick, with a paw on my arm, and with a stare from his brown eyes, so full of soul and life.

And his fate was likely sealed when he was lead away.

I can't take him, I wish I could. Nobody in the city could take him.

You see, this friendly, handsome animal is part pit bull.

It was a sad series of events. It was because of a few bad owners who mistreated and mistrained their dogs. A few children got bit. Shrill shrieks and cries were aimed at city council, and in typical fashion council responded with a bullshit knee jerk by-law.

Now, every and all pit bulls are dangerous animals. Any pit bull, or any dog with pit bull in him. Regardless of a good owner, regardless of a decade of docile behavior, they were dangerous.

Registration costs soared to $250.00 yearly. Signs had to be put up on your property advising of a "dangerous animal." You can no longer breed them, and should they step outside your house they have to be muzzled. Lord help you if they get off your property and poop on your neighbors lawn.

My dog danced away, being lead by animal control to a new and exciting adventure, not knowing his fate was most likely death. I wish I could take him, but I cannot afford the stigma attached. Nobody can.

More people get bitten by retrievers and labs. Chiwawa's are naturally meaner. But it does not matter. A powerful dog being raised by a few criminally negligent people, and the entire breed must suffer for it. Innocent dogs are dying because of it.

The politicians that govern my city are nothing but filthy cowards vying for votes. They are murderers.

I want to scream, I want to put my fist though the wall. I want to put a stake through the heart of the cowardly politicians that pushed the by-law through. I want to eviscerate the asshole dog owners that abused their dogs until they became dangerous. I want to bring about justice for all the good dog owners who were unfairly separated from a loyal and faithful companion. I want justice for all the good dogs who's only crime wasn't their fault, but who paid for it anyways.

It wasn't his fault, it was ours.

But he's paying the price.

Old dog, new trick.

What a weekend this has been so far. I've seen two things that have affirmed my position on getting old, and it's given me an idea.

Thing #1

You ever seen a really, really, really old lady? We're talking about wispy white hair, hunched back, withered liver spotted skin, medicinal smell, the crinkle of diapers when she walks, that sort of thing? Friday, her mother was ahead of me in a check out line.

This old coot wanted to buy a lottery ticket. Not a daily keno or a 649, nothing like that. No. She purchased a cash for life.

I'm betting money that the cash for life people would JIZZUM in their pants if a 107 year old mummified old coot won.

I guess your brain really does turn to much when your body goes to dust.

Thing #2

Today, a friend of my fathers called me to help him pick up a riding lawnmower that was getting repaired. This guy is no spring chicken. He's in his late 60's and his wife is 75. When I arrived, I saw his wife, standing beside her car. Sitting in a lawn chair beside the car was his wife's aunt. She's not quite as old as lottery ticket lady, but I'm still nothing more than a sperm compared to her.

As luck would have it, she couldn't walk. She blamed it on some sort of pills her doctor gave her. So guess who had to carry old Betty big bottom through a huge house and up a spiral stair case?

I did suggest a winch through the top window. That wasn't appreciated.

A few years ago my childhood dog was nearing 16. She had a pancreatic infection, or it was cancer. Either way she was in terrible pain and there was no amount of medical help in the world that was going to set her right. She was humanely euthanized. She was in my arms when the vet gave her the needle, in the arms of the person she loved and cared for the most. She was relieved of a never ending pain without causing any more for her.

Right now I enjoy a good quality of life. I'm healthy, I'm happy, and I'm strong. That could change at any moment. I could be hit by a bus, or fall off a building, or just get old, senile and incontenant.

When you end the suffering of a family pet, it's called the final act of love. When you do the same for a human loved one, it's called murder.

The hypocritical double standard of todays society aside, If my senior years are spent drooling and shitting myself while a Sharon, Lois and Bram clone band sing retarded songs to me in the home, I don't want to be around.

Thats why at the first signs of zero quality of life, I'm dressing like a dog and booking myself into the SPCA. Nobody will adopt me, and I'll be humanely put out of my misery, to spare myself the humiliation and degradation senility brings.

Feel free to use my idea! I won't hold it against you.

============

If you liked the above, you may also like:

The Technology of English
The Advice of Mr. Spazoid
This Old Coot
Get off the road, you blue haired dolt!
I think I threw up a little in my mouth

I'm Lazy

I was going to post about my battle with vegemite, but it's left me exhausted and weak like a little girl, or like Bill Clinton explaining the pants stains to Hillary.

Instead, I leave you with some video I've taken this weekend.

Enjoy.

Next leader of the free world!



Big things sometimes come in small packages.



===========

If you liked the above, you might also like:

Trip with the dog
I think I threw up a little in my mouth
What the hell is that?
Stupidity
Fucking rant, mother fucker!

This makes me sick.

Let's get one thing straight, with all of humanity, right here and right now.

WE ARE ANIMALS, JUST LIKE ANY OTHER LIVING THING THAT CRAWLS, WALKS, OR SLITHERS.

We are not better than then any other animal.

We do not have any more right to be here, on this planet than any other animal does.

Every animal, on this planet, including humans, has the right to survive, to eat, to defend itself with any means at its disposal.

Death is a part of life, and is acceptable in the natural cycle. AND ONLY the natural cycle. The needless torture and death as an act of ownership that humans exhibit for their own pleasure is a CRIME AGAINST EVERY LIVING THING.

There is a man in South America that calls himself an artist. He goes by the name of Guillermo Vargas Habacuc. In 2007, he took a dog off the street and tied it to a post in an art gallery, while people watched this poor defenseless animal starve to death.

I'm not only horrified that this is called art, but that his government condoned it as such. Take a look at the pictures here, if you are strong of stomach. What kind of person could do such a thing? What kind of government can allow it? What kind of people could visit the gallery and sit by and do nothing?

The answer, in short, are cowards. Cowardly people that are not right in the head, in my opinion.

So what can you do about it, besides flying down to Nicaragua and overthrowing the government that condoned this, beating the people that watched it, and killing the criminal who though it up?

Sign this petition.

This dirt bag is going to pull the stunt again, this year, in 2008. Sign the petition. It doesn't cost you anything, and every extra name helps.

One more thing. If you feel strongly about this like I do, put this up on your blog. It's not just about one dog, it's about a statement, a contingent of people who won't stand for barbaric, medieval style thinking. It's one of the many things that you and I can do to start to bring the human animal in harmony with our world and our roomates, instead of constant conflict with it.

Until we can come to grips with our own superiority complex, the only true animals that inhabit this planet is us humans.

=======

If you care about the world at all, please read the following:

The story of stuff

Trip with the dog

*Update April 8th, 2008. Moooog35, mental man of poo, one of the funniest blogs I read, has done me the honour of letting me guest post for him. Go to his page, and check out my guest post! Then read the rest of his shit. It's really, really good. Just don't get so absorbed in the gooey funny that is mental poo to forget about little ol' spazoid, eh?

This weekend, it was time for one of my semi annual pilgrimages to a small town two hours north of where I live. I do this because the dog I purchased happens to be:
1. Rare
2. Difficult to groom
3. I have to drive two hours to get her groomed.

The breeder grooms her, which involves three hours of hand stripping a fidgity high energy terrier. They only charge me $60, and they do an absolutely fantastic job. The reason they only charge me $60? I think it's because I have to spend three hours in their little town.

Here is the sign coming into town:
Who uses one of their slogan words as HIGH? Well, obviously that's the reason they are all HAPPY, but does being high all the time really make you healthy?

There's not much to do in this little town. I decided to browse the local real estate. Seen here are the premium trailer spots.
Here's a shot of the downtown core:
At least the locals have something to do, as seen here (the sign says lovers lane, in case it's too small or blurry to read, oh shit I just ruined the joke, oh well):Of course, by the time they get there it's usually dark, which is the way they like it:
But, Jinx got a fantastic hair cut. I think she lost about a pound of hair, which would be the equivalent of me shaving my chest. Here's the before:
Here's her after shot:
Just because I think Border Terriers are the coolest dogs on the planet, I'd like to share with you Jinx's aunt and grandmother.
In closing, here is one of the more disturbing things I've seen on youtube recently. Enjoy.



==============

If you liked the above, you may also like:

Canadian Animals
The dating perils of the small town
CSI Brantford
Small Town Idiot
My dog is the cutest

The Spazoid Friend Dedication

My blogging friend, Drowsey Monkey, being the totally cool chick that she is, has started doing friend dedications on her site.

This week, my Jinx and my Mitzi are the featured friends!

Click here and here to see the totally cool dedication Drowsey did to two of my closest buddies.

Thanks Drowsey!

=================

Stay tuned for part one of Spazoid's first attempt at a short story. If you like it i'll post part two. When I finish writing it.

Also, there may be a part three, four, five, and six. Or just a part two. I dunno.

================

If you liked the above, you may also like:

First Video Post, and a Memorium
My dog is the cutest
Gone to the dogs
The talking dog
My dogs bum

Why you don't want to live in Canada

I woke up this morning, and this is what I saw outside my house:

Oh good. It's well into March and I get to do MORE SHOVELING. Ever the optimist, my dog rushes outside and buries her head in the snow, probably trying to dig out the half eaten lunch some little turd chucked onto my lawn on the way to school.
But even she got sick of the snow, mustering a classic "WTF is this shit still DOING here still?!?!" look:
In classic dog fashion, she figured that if she tried to kill the shovel, the snow wouldn't come any more. After all, when the snow comes, the shovel is out; if the shovel is dead, maybe the snow won't come?
You'll also notice the accumulation after I was done shoveling. This is 6 minutes worth of pile up. I can't wait to shovel again today! And the five times after it!

You'll notice that the snow is piled about 1/4 of the way up the side of my neighbors house. My plan, if this continues, is to burrow into that pile and stay there until it melts. It'll save heat and hydro (which I'm going through like fucking water).

In November, when this shit first started, I was meticulous. The sidewalks were completely clear, and so was my driveway.

Now, whoever wants to walk past my house gets a path cleared the WIDTH OF MY SHOVEL. And I clear the driveway so that it will be relatively snow less a foot on either side of my truck, so I can gain momentum down the driveway to clear the giant snow hump that is my street.

We're hoping that this will ease up sometime by April.

So, who wants to move to Canada?

=================

Spazoid apologizes for the above life type blog. He knows that nobody wants to hear about that shit, and they would rather hear humorous probably not true stories of comedic observation he usually writes about. He also apologizes for the horrible stupid gross out post that preceded this one. Spazoid is in a bit of a mood. Stay tuned for regularly scheduled programming.

================

IF you liked the above, you might also like:

My blog rating, part 1
My blog rating, part 2
My blog rating, part 3
I was gonna
Tag, you're it, again!

First Video Post, and a Memorium

I know, the title is misleading. I've posted video's on my blog before. Lots and lots of videos to go along with my posts. But all of those videos were from youtube or other websites.

For birthmas, (I call it that as I'm a christmas baby and often get stiffed for gifts, even though I deserve to get stiffed because I'm an ass), someone gave me a very generous gift cirtificate to future shop. So I purchased a digital camera. A nice one too, and guess what! It can take video!

So, I took video at the dog park, one of my favoritest places to go. And Jinx's too. Here's a video, I hope you all enjoy it. I know you will, if you're all dog lovers like me. I especially like the first part, because it shows Jinx hitting on her boyfriend Maxwell. I'm sure glad they are both fixed, cuz that would be a definite C section for poor little Jinx.

Secondly, it's Mitzi's three year anniversary of her death. Mitzi was my childhood dog, and I loved her very much. So in honour of her, I'd like to share with you all the shrine I have set up for her in my living room. She has a little urn for her ashes, her collar around it, and the covering for the shelf is made from her favorite peach blanket. Some people think that I'm weird for doing this. I say they are weird for not wanting to remember dead family members of ANY species.

The END product

I hope everyone had a good Christmas. I had an excellent holiday, full of family and friends and cheer. I also received some generous gifts, which I didn't deserve because I'm a huge jerk.

Christmas day was spent with my buddy John and his family. His mother and wife cooked a terrific meal, including my all time favorite, ham. I LOVE pig. The way to my heart is through food, and the way to keep my heart is through pig meat. I don't know why, but this other white meat is just spectacular. If I could only have one, I'd choose pig. I don't care if it meant me going out into the woods with a sharpened stick, I'd get me some pig! But I digress.

Johns house is a dog friendly house, and to that end my puppy Jinx was with me. She LOVES his place, his dog Buddy, and sniffing around his back yard. Accordingly, everyone there loves Jinx, including his youngest daughter Aja. She's slightly bigger than Jinx and spends her time carrying the dog around, which Jinx tolerates very well. As usual, Jinx was a big hit. Everybody was cooing over her, and everyone was FEEDING her.

Here Jinx, have some turkey. Here Jinx, have some cheese! Here Jinx, want a cracker? Have a nice ham bone. Hey Mike, did you know Jinx likes parsnip?

Anyone who is a dog owner knows what happens to dogs when they deviate from their usual diet of kibble, sticks, insects, grass and cat poo. Especially when the food is rich, varied and plentiful. Jinx has a cast iron stomach, but even she has her limits.

Shortly after everyone was finished dinner, she asked to go outside. She was very insistent about it, she had to go NOW! I let her out, and 10 minutes later let her back in. Shortly there after she jumped up on the couch beside me, hung her head over the edge and BLARF! Projectile vomit halfway across the rug! Wonderful. As me and the kid sitting beside me are scooping up runny vomit and vegetable chunks with paper plates, I notice a smell. The smell was very distinct, and was coming from the rear end of Jinx. I look at her bum and yes, there are leftovers all over her rear end. Apparently, vomit was not the only projectile that had come from her that day.

So, as I had the dog tucked under one arm bum end out, and a wet wipe in the other hand, my thoughts naturally wandered to poo, the end products of all end products.

As some of you may recall, some time ago my flawed logic identified pooing as the meaning of life. As such, much of my time is spent thinking about it. After all, if it truly is the meaning of life it does deserve some thought.

There is nothing like a good bowel movement. You feel better, lighter, more energetic and happier. How many of you can honestly tell me a really good poo doesn't make you feel like a million bucks? Just look at your average dog. Slow and mopey till he gets outside. After he's done dropping his load, he comes back in the house and tears around like nothing is wrong on this earth. I truly believe, that if everyone has at least one good bowel movement once a day and EVERY day, there would be much less war and violence on this planet.

But what makes a good poo? There are several things. It must have good volume. It must have the perfect consistency, and it must come out all in one big piece. It must not stink too much, and there should be little or no clean up needed afterwards. Most importantly, it must slide out quickly and with little effort. If it is the perfect poo, your bung hole will flutter with contentment and you'll feel light enough to float for at least the next 30 minutes.

Not every poo is a good poo. One of my least favorite poo's is the wipe forever poo. In this case, you just cannot get clean! Wipe after wipe after wipe, its just as dirty as the last one. Half a roll of toilet paper is spent just getting clean enough to pull up your pants to walk over to the nearest shower.

Then of course there is the movement where a little teeny piece is left. You can feel it there, hanging, refusing to drop, teasing you. You know that if you try to remove it with TP, it'll just make a huge mess all over the place. So there you are, with a itsy bitsy turd hanging off your bum like a butterfly cocoon hangs off a branch, shifting with the breeze. That's where the wiggle comes in. You sit there on the can, wiggling in every direction, left, right, up, down, side to side, doing the modified running man just to get this piece of poo to drop off your bum.

Don't you just hate the phantom poo? You have to go and NOW, and the only thing that comes out is a fart? Just plain old disappointment.

One of the most annoying is the "i'm not done yet". You think you're finished, you clean up, you're just about ready to flush, and BOOM! You sit back down to a poo that says to you "Sorry I'm late, did I miss anything?". This jerk is usually accompanied by two or three more poops that just can't find the accelerator pedal on the highway of the large intestine.

Let's not talk about the diaretic poops.

Of course, there's the floater poo. Those poops that float on the top of the bowl like displaced tree branches, just daring you to try and flush them. "Go ahead" they say, "Just when you think you got us down the bowl, at least one of us is actually hiding, waiting to float up and leave the next person a present".

All in all, please be sure to use a courtesy flush if you're using a guest bathroom. If not to save yourself some embarrassment, at least out of respect for the toilet owner. To those who like to host, please, PLEASE make sure you have LOTS of toilet paper within easy reach! You never know when you or your guests are going to have a wipe forever poop! There's nothing more embarrassing than having to excuse yourself early just because of a dirty bum.

Thank you for reading the above self indulgence. I'd like to dedicate this to my father, who has an appreciation for the finer side of bathroom humour. Stay tuned for public bathroom etiquette!

Barnyard Brawl

My border terrier is 17.5 lbs of pure muscle, with an attitude to match. Pound for pound, there are no tougher dogs than terriers, and mine is no exception. She can keep pace with much larger dogs, jump, turn on a dime, and she has teeth comparable to a small german sheppard. She can hold her own, and has a preference to play with the bigger dogs. This weekend was no exception.

A friend of the family has a farm, with a HUGE massive doberman farm dog. Tyson weighs in at about 120 lbs, and has a head the size of a dinner plate. This is not the dog Jinx plays with (he likes to put her in his mouth, she's not a huge fan of that). It's his daughter, Layla, that's Jinx's good buddy.

Six months ago was the first time that Jinx and Layla met. Layla was maybe three or four months old and only three times the size of Jinx. Since this was Jinx's first trip to the fenced pen, she completely ignored Layla (much to Layla's dismay) to try and find weak links. One of the things Jinx is very good at is finding security breaches so she can go terrorize other farm animals or young children in the neighborhood. Satisfied that there were no penetrable four inch gaps in, around or under the fence, Jinx turned her attention to poor Layla. Not that Layla minded, both played for hours tirelessly with much growling and running around.

This weekend, Jinx met Layla again, for the second time. This time, Layla weighed in at about 90 lbs and towered over poor Jinx. Jinx not being one for intimidation, picked up exactly where they had left off six months ago. It was a bit different this time, Jinx had to jump up a bit to bite at Laylas lip to wrestle her to the floor.

These two were happily wrestling away. Growls abounded and dirt flew as the tan body and black bodies tumbled through the farm muck. This attracted the attention of the residents of the neighboring pen. The cow wandered over to the fence line, put her head down and stared intently at the show. Shortly thereafter she was joined by a sheep, a horse, and then a second sheep. All these barnyard animals watched the action intently and without straying while the two dogs wrestled. I can just imagine the conversation that was taking place among them. Animals can talk ok? If Disney says so it MUST be true! Anyways, here's the conversation as I imagine it.

Cow: Ed! Ed get over here!
Sheep#1: What is it Beatrice?
Cow: Look! Look! You'll never believe it!
Sheep#1: Holey crap! Is it...
Cow: Yea! Two predators and they're beating up on EACH OTHER!
Sheep#1: Waitaminute, aren't they supposed to be busy weeding out our weak?
Cow: Yea. Hey, maybe Dicky knows. Hey Dicky!
Horse: Yea, Beatrice?
Cow: Do you know why these two predators are fighting?
Horse: I'm guessing it's this weird thin long thing that makes us hurt when we touch it.
Sheep#1: How do you mean?
Horse: I'm guessing the ugly hairless animal that won't shut up put it up so these predators can't get us.
Cow: So, you're saying they're so hungry they've turned on each other?
Horse: Sure looks like it.
Sheep#1: I don't know about you guys, but I'm thinking that the little itty bitty one is going to have one hell of a meal
Cow: Yea, looks like it's winning eh? Still, it's going to be a long fight the way their going.
Sheep#1: Aww crap. Guys, disperse, look away, pretend you're chewing your cud
Horse: Why?
Sheep#1:Shit, too late. My retarded brother is making his way over.
Cow: Man, that guy is such a downer!
Sheep#2: Baaaaaaaa! Baaa Baaa Baaaaaaaaaa!
Sheep#1: Ba! Ba! That's all you can fucking say is Ba! What the hell is your problem!
Sheep#2: Baaaaa!
Horse: See sheep, I told you your mom and dad are brother and sister!
Sheep#1:Shut up man, or I'll tell everyone about the time you humped the sow!
Horse: Ed!
Cow: Hahahahahaha! Horse, you fucked a pig!
Horse: Yea, well, at least I didn't screw a cow!
Cow: Not with an itty bitty little 3 foot penis like that you're not!
Sheep#1:Hey guys, look! The little one's got the big one on her back!
Horse: Yay! Ok little guy, go in for the kill and make the world just a bit safer for us herbivores!
Sheep#2: Baaa!Baaaa!
Sheep#1:Shut up retard!
Cow: Somethings wrong.
Horse: What?
Cow:The little one is backing off and letting the big one up. Now their fighting again!
Sheep#1: You know, there's no blood. Shouldn't there be blood by now?
Horse: Yea, WTF?
Sheep#2: BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Sheep#1, Horse, Cow: SHUT UP RETARD!
Cow: Hey, maybe if we all sit still and stare right at them they'll get it in gear and kill each other.
Horse: Yea, let's do that.
Sheep#2: BAA.....
Horse: (Kicks him in face), that'll shut you up
Sheep#1: Thank you!
Cow: Shit! Here comes one of those weird hairless animals! Everybody look bovine!
Cow: Mooo!
Horse: Neiiigghhh!
Sheep#1: Baaaa
Sheep #2: BAAAAAAAAAA BAAAAAAAAAABAAAAAAAABAAAAAAAA!
Me: Man, that sheep is kind of retarded, eh? Ok Jinx, let's go inside!
Horse: Hey! That little one is going in that big well lit cave with the hairless animal! But the fight wasn't over!
Cow: Huh?
Horse: The fight!
Cow: Oh, sorry, been chewing my cud for the last 10. What fight?
Horse: Screw this. Come on Sheep, let's go fuck some pigs
Sheep#1: I don't want to screw Beatrice!
Cow: I fucking hate you, Ed

In the end, Jinx and Layla called it even and the barnyard animals dispersed to do their own thing. I'm looking forward to the next time, I'm betting the action will get even better!

My dog is the cutest.

Everybody that has a dog KNOWS that theirs is the cutest. Well, it doesn't really matter because mine IS the cutest. Let's have a look:

I like bones.

All of these are MINE, comprende?
Can I have a cookie, PLEASE?!?!?!?

COOKIE COOKIE COOKIE COOKIE COOKIE!
Thanks Daddy!
Seriously, if you don't put that camera down i'm going to bite your nards off, OK?
I don't care that it's hot outside. This new haircut makes me practically naked. How embarrassing.Ok Ok, you're right, my new haircut makes me look SEXY. Seriously, I'm too sexy for this collar. Too sexy for this collar. Too sexy for this collar. Whatcha think about that?

There you have it. You've seen the rest, now you've seen the best. Hope you enjoyed these pictures as much as I enjoy having the cutest dog in the world!

Gone to the Dogs

When he sobers up, he's going to be one hurting unit!

NOT SAFE FOR WORK!

http://wasteaminute.com/video/21/Doggy-Style.html

Edit: I just HAD to add this one!

http://wasteaminute.com/video/30/Girl-poops-pants.html

Cute Cuddly Little Bear!

Anybody who has any knowledge of bears, and especially polar bears, knows a few honest truths about the animals.

• They are BIG
• They are POWERFUL
• They are always HUNGRY
• They don't have much of a SENSE OF HUMOUR
• Anything smaller than them is FOOD
• They are usually pretty grumpy

If you are in northern Canada and see a polar bear, and it sees you, and comes over to investigate, you'd better hope you have high powered rifle with you. Drop the damned thing before it gets too close (they are very fast too). When Les Stroud, brains behind the survival series Survivorman, went into the Arctic for a week, he was given a rifle. He's not supposed to have much in the way of gear, but the Canadian authorities wouldn't let him go without one. The bears are that much of a threat to human saftey.

When I ran across these pictures, I was shocked. To be sure, this is a one off, and probably hasn't happened before and will probably never happen since. The pictures show a curious polar bear playing with a sled dog. PLAYING. I guess this bear had a full stomach, and wanted to cuddle up to a cute furry little 120lb dog. These pictures show the bear and dog playing together like dogs play! Just incredible. I hope you all enjoy these pictures as much as I did.

The talking dog

I've long suspected that certain animals have a capacity for communication outside of the observed vocalizations and body languages. Certain animals, especially pack animals, exhibit understandings of each other and things around them above and beyond what the perceived communications can manage (in my amateur opinion of course).

Human and animal brain and neurology are extremely complex. Thinking about it a bit, your brain is a vast collection of logic circuits that run on electricity (and chemistry, but that's besides the point). A computer is a copycat of natures design, a processor with logic circuits and wiring to carry instructions to the various modules, as the brain uses nerves to carry instructions to the various parts of your body, and relay input back in for processing.

Think of something as simple as a transistor radio. It contains a "brain", the transistor, and the "nerves" or wiring, and carries out instructions based on your input. The primary job of this instrument is to pick a certain frequency of electromagnetic energy out of the air (radio waves) emitted from a broadcasting station, and translate them into the sounds they represent. A transistor radio is the simplest of man's copycat brain, yet it does something that man cannot. Interpreting EM radiation that is invisible to any of our known senses is something that we either cannot do, or we've convinced ourselves that it is impossible.

Why can humans not do this? We know our logic circuitry and wirings are incredibly bigger and more complex than the most powerful of our creations, but we can't do something as simple as send and receive the simplest of radio waves. Or can we?

What of claims of ESP? What is the majority of the publics reactions to a supposed case of it? Bull crap! Psychics don't exist! I'm inclined to agree. Most people that claim to have ESP are in it for the cash. But what about those small percentages of cases that can't be explained? The ones where the person doing it has nothing to gain and everything to lose, where (s)he knows something that they could not possibly ever know?

Do you think that perhaps there is a possibility that we humans have an extra sense, something that we've lost touch with and haven't had the use of for a long, long time as it does not conform to a "rational" world view? I think that because we don't perceive it as part of the five senses of the norm we tend to discount even it's possibility as a fairy tale. Perhaps some of us dismiss it for religious reasons, because whenever a human does things that seem different to the norm of most of today's mainstream religions are labeled as either witchcraft or satanism and summarily dismissed as evil through fundamentalist religious hysteria?

I have a two year old border terrier. I've raised her, by myself since she was 8 weeks old and we are both very close to each other. Something happened last night, something that didn't hit me until today, that made me think. Really think, which is why I'm blogging about it today.

It was around 3 p.m and I was watching T.V. with the dog. Jinx hadn't eaten breakfast that day, for whatever reason only known to her. I usually put her food up on the counter when she's done and put it back down at dinner time, then take it up again. Jinx got up from lying at my side, trotted into the kitchen and made the whiny sound that I knew meant I want something. I went into the kitchen and put her food down, and she wolfed it down while I walked back to the living room.

It didn't hit me until today, thinking about something else, what really happened. Jinx has NEVER made that noise for her kibble. She's made that noise directed at the cupboard where she knows her milk bones are kept, she makes that noise under the drawer where I keep her chewies. At the very instant that she made that noise yesterday, an image flashed into my head. It didn't last long, less than half a second, but it happened at the VERY INSTANT she whined. The image was of her, from my point of view, sitting directly under where her food was kept at the counter, and the message was I WANT IT.

Now, I don't know if that was her communicating with me, or me picking up on her wants, or absolutely nothing, but I do not believe it was nothing. I have no quantitative or empirical evidence of what happened, or why, but I believe it was something extraordinary, and something that we humans are too arrogant to acknowledge. I think it was a skill, a skill so mundane to be normal to the likes of an innocent dog, but lost to the ages to us, the selfish and self absorbed human being.

Unconditional Love

Unconditional love. What is it, and are we, as human beings, capable of it? The answer to the second question is yes, and no. For the first, we might as well go to an online dictionary and find out.

According to the dictionary, unconditional love is:

affection with no limits or conditions; complete love

This source goes into further detail:

Unconditional love is a concept that means showing love towards someone regardless of his or her actions or beliefs. unconditional love is frequently used to describe love between family members, comrades in arms and between others in highly committed relationships.
I would add something to that. I think being judgmental plays deep into unconditional love. Someone or something you love unconditionally is free of judgment, and full of forgiveness.

This question occurred to me today, as I was doing my rounds for my job. I came across a dead coyote, lying in the side of the ditch. He was hit by a car, as jackass human beings do ungodly speeds on country roads. He probably didn't even see the vehicle coming, and from the looks of things it didn't take long for the poor fellow to die. He was a young animal, handsome, with a clean coat and a well fed body. Certainly it was not time for him to go.

I felt bad, really bad. Worse than I felt when I hear stories of people murdering each other and dying in the most horrific ways. I was thinking, why is that? Why can I not feel for my own species in the same way I do for animal species?

It took me an hour or two but I arrived at an inevitable conclusion. I do not love humans unconditionally, but my love for animals has no conditions.

Animals do not display arrogance, judgment, or disrespect for themselves or others as do humans. Most animals will only attack if provoked, do not carry a grudge, and do not go out of their way to harm any other thing. Most are content to live their daily lives, and kill only to protect or feed themselves. Animals do not gossip, back stab, spread rumors of lies and untruths, or revel in an enemies suffering. Indeed, animals do not have enemies at all.

When I come home from work my dog greets me like I have been gone for a year. She does not ask why I'm late, she does not chastise me for not taking the garbage out on time, and she LOVES it when I have smelly breath! If I accidentally step on her foot she yelps and lowers herself like it as her that did something wrong. As soon as I pet her, she wags her tail and everything is as it was before.

I believe strongly that the human race as a whole does not have a clue as to what unconditional love is. Territorial disputes and resource disputes are common. Religious squabbles are happening today in apparent "civilized" societies. How civilized is it to retain 6,000 year old grudges from some old musty tomes of parables and stories? How does man show love to himself, and his planet, the only thing sustaining his life, by over populating its lands, polluting it's air and oceans, and consuming it's every last resource at terrifying speeds? All while killing their neighbors over an imaginary political line drawn in the sand? How does insurgent terrorists slaughter innocent missionaries without blinking an eye?

At the level of the human family unit, parents are capable of showing unconditional love for their children. A mother will love her child even if he is a jerk, if he doesn't amount to anything, if he's 35 years old and still loving at home (unless he's Italian, then momma won't let him leave), if he's committed atrocities and is in jail. No matter what, he will always be her son, and she will always help him in his time of need. How much she likes him, however, is a different story.

I am as guilty as the next human of not unconditionally loving my own species, and I will cheerfully admit that any day of the week.

Animals do not do wrong in my eyes, and in my opinion, we as the "superior species" have a lot to learn from animals about how to live, and how to love. Animals even LOOK like love. How can you say no to anything this beautiful little pup wants?

My Dog's Bum

It started with scratching. My dog would stand on three legs and use the other one to scratch her belly, then alternate. Then she started scratching her head. Then she started chewing on her bum.

I didn't pay it much regards. I mean, dogs lick themselves down there all the time, right? After all, as much as anyone will never admit to this, if ANYONE had that kind of flexibility they wouldn't ever leave their house, at least at first.

The chewing of the bum became more and more frequent. She started getting pretty irritable, and when her 17.5 lb self tried to beat up a rottwieller, I thought it was time to take her to the vet.

My dog loves the vet. She thinks it's the greatest place ever, so many animals, so many smells, oh boy! But this particular visit was to become a bit of a rude awakening.

The vet said that it could be her glands, many small breed dogs have gland problems. I had no idea how they were to check for this but I was about to find out.

First thing that happened to her was a thermometer went up her bum. What's with that? When was the last time you had a thermometer up the bum? That hasn't happened to me since I was very young - and it wasn't long before it went under my tongue instead. You know, thinking about that, my mom only ever kept one thermometer in the house..... but I digress. If doctors have thermometers for people that you put in an ear and it gets a temperature almost instantly, why not dogs? Are vets sadists?

The vet then proceeded to check her glands. A glove went on, and a big dob of clear lubricant went on her fingers. "That's not going where I think it is, is it?" I said, but it was. So I grabbed my dog and said "Jinx, brace yourself....."

The vet wasn't a big person. She's maybe 5 foot 7" and maybe 120 lbs, and has fingers sized accordingly. I told her I'm glad she wasn't a 300lb man, but to a 17lb dog, she might as well have been. Jinx, for the first time in her little life, had an expression of genuine surprise, shock and dismay on her face.

When it was all said and done, it turned out she had fleas. Frig, stupid fleas. Apparently, fleas prefer an animals hind quarters, hence the chewing on the butt. Little bastards. My instructions were to put flea medication on her, wash all the surfaces she sleeps on, (have you ever put a pillow in a washing machine? Not fun), vacuum the entire house, put the contents of the cleaner in a garbage back and get rid of it, then fumigate the house with a big can of pesticide. Oh, and after I fumigate I need a place OTHER than the house for Jinx and I to be for the day. All in good fun.

From here on in, Jinx will be getting flea treatments on a regular basis.

When the vet was done, I got my $140.00 bill. The dog wasn't the only one to have an expression of genuine surprise, shock and dismay on their face that day.