Art School Week 8: The Time Is Flying By

Another "week in review" post. I wonder if the format of these is getting stale. Still, I don't think I have enough to break things up into per-class posts this time around. I'll do my best to keep it interesting but there are no promises.

First off, ceramics:

We bisque fired our slab built projects, and though I have seen mine, but I didn't get photos of it yet. I am pleased with the slip application, at least. The white is opaque - not showing the terracotta through it - and the black stripe looks good too. The wonky angles still bug me, but I am certain if I was making more things like this I would get better at it. Two clay projects do not an expert make.

We also started throwing on the wheel. We're using 1.5 to 2 pounds of a white clay. I think I tried it 4 or 5 times last Tuesday and had reasonable success for someone who has never done it. Getting the clay centred is a pain. And there are many other ways to mess up a simple cylinder. Today (Sunday) I went in and did some more practising. I tried several times and had a few disasters, two that didn't fail but were not great, and one that was barely "meh". Or that's how I recall it anyway. Here's a picture of the one the best one, cut open so I can examine wall thickness:

Not too bad, really. Still a long way to go, but I am willing to put in the effort. Also note that we are not yet saving anything. It's throw a cylinder, then recycle the clay and try again. There will be more practising on Tuesday, I believe, and we're going to glaze our slab projects so they are ready to fire at some point soon.

Then came art history on Wednesday, in which we took the mid term exam. I don't have results from that yet, nor a grade on my paper. The instructor has a huge stack of stuff to grade, so perhaps I will get it back this week.

Painting - also on Wednesday - saw us doing life painting again. I think I did a bit better this time around. Some of the stuff I produced was awful, but some was ok(ish). Here's the best of the day:

That's not terrible, even if her nose is way too big. Next week we start in on some long term painting project that takes us to the end of the semester. No clue what it involves yet. Also, for those who are really interested, a question I posed to Giselle Lawson turned into a very interesting discussion over on Facebook about painting and how to evaluate the quality of such. Quite enlightening. If you know Giselle, check out her posts there to find it.

Also on the painting class, I give you pictures of the Buffalo Lounge, which is a central open area in the middle of all the fine and performing arts classrooms. This week the painting instructor has a huge selection of paintings up from his various classes. I am astounded to admit that there are four from me in there. Two definitely should not be there, one of which I have never published a picture of because it is so bad. My intent was to gesso over it but the instructor grabbed it from my storage space without telling me. Maybe it's intended as an example to others: don't do this. I dunno. But it's on the wall, and I am not pointing it out. Anyway, here are some shots of the exhibit overall:

At least one of those is a bit blurry. Sorry. Didn't note that when I took the picture yesterday.

Thursday's design class had us all working on our "bug based" pavilion models. After all of class plus a bit of time after, and four more hours today, I'm done. Here's what the table I was working at today looked like:

Quite a mess, and what can't be pictured is my phone playing a constant stream of songs by the Dresden Dolls to keep me moving. Here's a picture of the stuff I've made for the assignment before it gets turned in:

The presentation for this will be fun, actually. I might have mentioned before that I was planning to do something relating to fireflies for this assignment, but in the end I gave up on that idea. Everything I was thinking was too complicated or didn't work at all. The new concept is wings. The idea is that the pavilion is a set of large sculptures (four shown above) that detail the differences between the many kinds of insect wings, giving the garden a chance to explain the evolution of insect wings, and show their differences in great detail. I also added an entrance marker (the thing in the front, centre) and some people for scale. (Yes, these are really big, as proposed.) Of course this is just a project, and the local gardens won't build anything for anyone, but it's kind of fun. Next we we get to present these things to the class as if we're presenting to the garden staff. Should be entertaining.

And finally there was drawing class on Friday, were we turned in an interior drawing in 1 point perspective. Here's mine:

I didn't get a perfect score on it because my line quality sucks. We were told to finish it with a sharpie, and I did that. But sharpie and ruler is a lousy combination, so I used it freehand, and the resulting lines have some wiggle because I couldn't bear down on them without turning things into a huge blort of ink. Still, an OK grade, and life goes on. Next we we're doing in interior 2 point perspective and I have some pens now that will work with a ruler, so that should be better. I hope. The ocean map on the floor is the "something weird" we were supposed to add to the drawing. And yes, this is a bit of the interior of the house we are renting. It's not as big as that image would suggest, though. We were instructed to leave out the furniture if it didn't line up with the same vanishing point, and you can't see the mountain of boxes behind the viewpoint from which that image was drawn.

In addition to all of that, I took a big English test on Saturday, which kept me busy for several hours. It is part of proving to the Canadian Government that I am fluent in English. It was pretty funny, really, and a huge waste of time in a number of ways, but it had to get done.

Amusingly, while waiting to register to take the test, I found this:

By way of explanation, I took the test in Richmond, which has a huge Chinese population. There are all kinds of businesses in town that have no English on their signs at all, just Chinese characters. The test was given in a set of rooms that belongs to a tutoring/teaching business that caters to parents wanting to get their kids into elite colleges. It's in an odd mall in town, full of Chinese only businesses, including several tutoring schools. (I wonder if the trinket shop and the book shop I saw on the 6th floor are really legit, or instead are fronts for something else. I can't imagine a lot of customers take the elevator to that floor to buy Chinese trinkets. But I digress.)

Anyway, I took that photo while pacing around. I found it funny to see the obviously stock photo of the white student - too old to be a high school student, but maybe a late college student? - on an ad covered in Chinese. As you can see, the only non-English on there are 2 URLs and the string "VIP" in the middle of something in Chinese. I tried to translate it with my phone, but I didn't have the Chinese translation dictionary installed and didn't want to download it over the air. I did check out the QR code, though, and found it was a link to a Chinese chat app's entry in the Google Play store. Maybe if I had the app installed it would have taken me to something deeper, but I didn't, so that's what came up.

I admit to being amused by little things, but that ad did make me chuckle. And I need it they didn't start registering us until 30 minutes after the appointed time.

All of the above - class & test - was accomplished after being flat-on-my-back sick last Monday. Not fun, and I am still recovering from the cold. Mostly now all I have is a sporadically runny nose and occasional cough. Energy levels are creeping back up towards normal.

Finally, I've had requests for more dog photos, and there are those in California who might wonder what the weather is like up here vs. down there.  On the latter, it's pretty cool. I think we were down to 2° C this morning. It's sunny right now, but rains regularly - perhaps every three or four days. The locals all tell me that a time will come when it rains for a month, but so far I have my doubts. There was a prediction of mixed precipitation that would include snow for a couple of days from now, but that's dropped back to just rain, last I checked. So nothing like California weather, and it makes me very happy.

Oh, and it's Fall, so the trees are turning colours and dropping their leaves. Back at our old place in CA that happened in about August. OK, I exaggerate a bit, but the buckeyes did that, and the maple started then. The fruit trees waited a bit longer. Nothing else changed, though. The oaks & redwoods keep their leaves all year round, so Fall doesn't mean much, at least not visually.

As for dog pictures, I don't have anything new this month, but I'll try to get some next time around, assuming I remember. Being at school so much I don't take a lot of pictures of them. But maybe Anne will have some.

A Very Long Night

Last night we went to bed just before 11:30pm. Everyone had settled down - both of us and all three dogs - when that changed. Skookie and Cruzer - our two younger dogs - started barking in the general direction of the street. Odd, but maybe a deer walking around.

Then I noted the flashlights - obviously flashlight beams not car headlights - down on the road. And deer don't carry flashlights, so I got up and looked out the door. I saw two guys (this is from 200+ feet away, in the dark, heavily covered with redwood trees, so no real details were visible) walking the road, like they were looking for something. I watched for a couple of minutes and they seemed to be stuck in front of our house. Clearly on the road, but not walking in either direction along the road. So I let out the dogs. Much barking ensued, but the interlopers did not move on.

I put on a bathrobe, grabbed a flashlight, and stepped out onto my deck. I shined the light down at them and called out, asking if they were "OK down there".

They responded that they were fine, and something along the lines of "don't worry, we're locals".

Really? Somehow that did not engender calm on my side of things. Strangers on the street at 11:30pm, in the woods? Not a normal thing in my 20+ years of living here.

So I called the dogs and went back inside to ponder my options, and watched for several more minutes. The guys eventually started down the hillside on the opposite side of the street, towards a couple of old cabins down there. (I know the property owner... they don't live there, visitors aren't common, and certainly not at that time of night.) They walked down the hill and wandered around the cabins for several minutes. Did I mention it was 11:30pm on a Wednesday night, in the woods, and they clearly weren't the owners of the property, who would have called out to me right away on learning I was awake?

What should I do?

Call the sheriff? Well, yes, but...

• The response time to my area is forever, probably more than an hour. Even if I called right away these guys would be long gone before the sheriff arrived.  If the sheriff arrived at all.
• Last time I called about something vaguely like this - someone shooting repeatedly on the same property - I was asked if I "heard screaming or saw blood". I answered "no" but that I could still hear shots being fired, lots of them. And I was unsurprised when the sheriff's office dispatched exactly no one to the scene. Ever. (In the end I think it was someone target shooting, in the woods, in what amounts to a residential neighborhood. Yes, we have big lots up here - you cannot see most of the nearby houses - but still, a very dumb thing to do.)

So what did I do? I got dressed, grabbed my flashlight and cell phone, leashed up the dogs, and went for a walk.

I got to the place where the guys went down the hill and shined my flashlight down at them and waited, up on the road where my wife could hear whatever transpired. I could clearly see their lights down there, moving around the woods.

In a few minutes the guys realized they were being watched and started climbing up the hill towards me. There were actually four of them I then learned, as they spread out a bit on the path. My threat-o-meter went up another notch. just how stupid am I to be down here?

They get to the road and a rather tense conversation ensues. I ask who they are and what they are doing. They tell me they "shot a deer" earlier, are tracking it, and the "last blood" is down the hill.

Well now, isn't that interesting? Suddenly I have a whole new set of worries. Shot? With what? When? In this neighborhood? Are any of you carrying a gun now? Should I be running for my life? Should I just call 911 standing right here? What the *&^% do you think you're doing? But I remained calm - at least on the outside - and said none of that. And I was glad to have two largish dogs on leash with me, one of whom was picking up on how tense the conversation was and growled, as if to make a point.

Instead of panicking, I ask if they own the property - knowing they don't, but wanting to drive the point home. One responds, saying they don't, but that he grew up on a neighboring lot.

I say something like, "Look, it's 11:30 on a weeknight and you guys wandering around here is keeping my dogs - and me - awake." They apologize and say they were just trying to find the deer. Apparently they didn't think about the neighbors. Some agreement is come to - silently... I'm fuzzy on the conversation at this point - and they start walking up the street. I wait until they get out of the way and then go the other way, towards my driveway, with the dogs.

Nothing else exciting happens. I get home just fine, get the dogs off leash, and tell my wife what transpired. The guys have clearly left... the flashlights are gone and you definitely need them down there to avoid tripping and hurting yourself.

It's about 12:45pm. Now we can all get some sleep, right? Alas no.

I get back in bed, but am now too wired and hot to sleep. Not going to happen. So I get out my kindle and start reading.  Anne conks out (good!) and the dogs settle, sort of.

Sometime later - not sure how long... I thought it was about 1am, but I'd clearly been reading for more than 15 minutes - Cruzer throws up. I leapt up in an attempt to get him outside before disaster struck, but was too late. I sent him out anyway and got started cleaning the mess up. That woke Anne up, sadly.

Cruzer actually tried to avoid a problem and managed to throw up in the sliding door track, missing the carpet entirely. Fantastic. But it takes several minutes to clean it out of there, and find more out on the deck and get that cleaned up too. Whee.

Get back in bed, really awake again. Read some more. Cruzer doesn't want to settle, and comes over to my side of the bed, begging for attention, or something. Odd behavior for him, but if he isn't feeling well, it might be explicable. (And remember, I'm not exactly at my best at this point either.)

While reading - first session and second - we have low, loud overflights by (I think) two helicopters and at least one large jet. And when I say low I mean low. Disturbingly so, for the Santa Cruz Mountains in the middle of the night. And rare for our part of the world.

Finally I turn off the kindle and try to get some sleep. It's maybe 2 or 2:30... I'm honestly not sure. And I did sleep, a little, in fits, but not much.

The alarm is going to go off at 7am, so I am not going to get anything like a full night's sleep. Even worse, though, is the canine alarm, which went off at 5:45am. (I think. Can you say "groggy"?)

Both Skookie and Cruzer wanted out. That is very unusual. True, Skookie will always change sides of a door, but she waits until the alarm goes off before making her desires known. And Cruzer is an idiot and sleeps until thrown out or walked, so to have him squeaking at the door is odd. I got up and let them out. No barking. Fine. I went back to bed, waiting for Cruzer to start squeaking that he wanted back in.

But he didn't do that, and I actually dozed a bit more, only getting back up at 6:15am to figure out what had happened to him, since this is definitely not normal behavior. I look out the door and there he is, eating weeds in the dog run. OK... his stomach was bugging him a few hours before, so maybe that's what he needs. But he doesn't ask to come back in. Fine. Leave them out there and go back to bed, hoping for another 45 minutes of slumber.

Ten minutes later Skookie barks at something - probably a deer, but who knows - and I have to get back up and bring them both in before they wake Anne up (again). I managed to accomplish that, and got back in bed, yet again. This night is starting to feel like an exercise program. I wish I was making this up.

The alarm goes off at 7am, as usual. I listen to the news for a while, and then get up to feed dogs and make coffee. On the way to get the dog food I discover that Cruzer has thrown up again sometime in the night, this time down in the laundry room. And his behavior shows me that he is worried about being punished for it, which is something we would never do, but maybe his previous owners did. No way to know. I clean it up. No harm done, but I am keeping an even closer eye on him now.

The dogs follow me upstairs as usual and all go to their food bowls, so I think everything is fine, but as I get started making coffee, Cruzer turns up in the kitchen, long before he usually does. Odd.

I go look at his bowl. It is essentially untouched. He's not eating. This - combined with the other odd behavior and midnight vomiting - has me concerned.

I finish making coffee and get my morning banana. This is something Cruzer lives for: his morning bit of banana. (Honestly.) And he looks at me in something like the usual, expectant way, so I pull a bit off and toss it to him, just as I always do. And it bounces off the top of his head and lands on the floor. He doesn't even turn towards it... just looks at me. This is very wrong.

OK... now what? Anne finishes up her morning stuff, and we start the usual dog walk ritual. This is required every morning. It's not far - Leah, the 14 year old, isn't going far - but it's something, and we have to do it, regardless of anything else going on. It's important. And it's still just as important this morning too, so we head out to the garage to leash up.

And in the process I register just the tiniest little hiccup in Cruzer's stride as he goes down a stair. A back foot is held up just a bit longer than usual. But I am sleepy and unsure and out of it. We walk.

As we start down the driveway I wonder: we're getting some patching done on our driveway, and there is some fresh asphalt down there. Is it possible Cruzer got some of that on his feet last night when we walked down to confront the guys, then licked it off his feet and made himself sick that way? Seems possible. So we decide to change course and not walk on anything with new asphalt on it. Easy to do, and we encounter lots of new smells.

We get down towards the road and there are two guys walking on it. At 8am. Last night's meeting was in the dark, by flashlight, and way too late, but maybe these are two of the guys that were there. So I ask.

Yes, it's them. And they really are sorry about waking us up.

A brief conversation follows - with my wife there - and we learn that they'd shot the deer with an arrow - not a gun, good! - and were still trying to find it. And as much as I hate to say it, they look like hipsters. One has a big, full beard, and at least one had big, thick, dark, plastic rimmed glasses. Hipster hunters, I think. Really. Or so it appeared. (Google it. Turns out to be a real thing.) We said goodbye and kept walking the dogs back towards the house while they kept trying to figure out where their deer had gone.

As we get towards the house I realize that Cruzer is actually limping. Barely, but his right, back leg is definitely not right. We stop, I take Leah's leash from Anne, while she looks at Cruzer's foot. And between two of his pads she found an entire, small, pine cone. Buried so deeply he couldn't get it out himself. That had to hurt.  He probably picked it up in the middle of the night, walking along the road.

And he probably spent all night in pain, possibly trying to dig that thing out from time to time, and the worry (he worries a lot, believe me) made him sick. That's at least as likely as the asphalt theory. And he ate his breakfast when reminded it was there by me drizzling a bit of oil over it to make it more attractive.  Bah.  Poor dog.

As expected, the hipster hunters have wandered off again. I have no idea where their deer went, and apparently they don't either. I hope it isn't suffering.

There ends the story so far. Cruzer and I are getting by on very little sleep. (I, thankfully, have coffee.)

But it is going to be a very long day.

Rough Days

We have three dogs:

• Leah: a 13 year old, spotted, mix breed.
• Danno: an 8 year old, Siberian Husky.
• Skookie: an 8-ish year old, Shepard mix, who moved into our house because it was better than her previous home.  Really.

Skookie is in good health as far as we can tell.

Leah, being quite a bit older, has been panting a fair bit for a long time.  Even when it is cool and she's been doing nothing.  She doesn't always pant, but it definitely happens more than should be required.

And something like four or five weeks ago, Danno, our big Siberian Husky started showing unexplained pain on occasion. He would just stop what he was doing and start howling like he was being stabbed. Huskies aren't notoriously stoic about pain, so we didn't take this too seriously in general, but we always went looking for a cause and never found one.

As it happens, we had plans to go out of town for a week to see family, and the dogs were going to be kenneled while we were away.  We decided to take them to the vet to be sure they were OK before we left, rather than deal with surprises while we were gone.

Sometimes it seems it is better not to know.

Leah's panting is almost certainly something called Laryngeal Paralysis.  As some dogs age the larynx gets stiffer and won't open easily to let air in and out of the lungs.  These dogs have to work harder to breathe over time, and thus pant a lot.  The diagnostic tip is to listen for a deep resonation while they are panting, and Leah has that.  The actual diagnostic requires sedating the dog and observing the larynx at work, but we aren't doing that to her just to confirm a diagnosis.

This condition is essentially fatal, but it takes a long time.  Leah could have months or years left with us, and is in no immediate danger.  The only available treatment is to tie half the larynx open surgically, which makes breathing easier, but can allow them to aspirate things into the lungs.  Pneumonia is a relatively common result, and our vet says she probably wouldn't do that surgery on her own dogs.

So we let Leah's situation play out.  We have to keep her walks short and keep her out of the sun, though, because she has a hard time cooling off given this condition.  Otherwise, we wait and keep her happy.  She's in good shape and still has plenty of energy, so nothing here is all that urgent.

Danno's situation is much, much worse.

Sparing you all the diagnostic details, it turns out he has cancer.  Probably two tumors, one affecting the neck and another the brain.  The impact of these tumors hit so hard and so quickly that we were stunned.

Just a couple of days before we were to leave town, Danno was unable to drink any liquid.  He'd just cough up a bunch of clear, viscous, phlegm after each drink.  He was dehydrating as a result, and he wasn't eating either.  His right eye was turned in - something called Horner's Syndrome - and the right side of his face collapsed in as well.

But two days of overnight care with IV fluids, antibiotics, and (most importantly) prednisone helped quite a bit.  He could eat and drink again, and while none of that was going to fix the underlying problem, his quality of life was back to the point that he was enjoying things again.

We discussed surgery, but decided it is not an option.  Given the expected location of the tumors, they would not be fully removable, which means they would just grow back, and quickly.  Recovery would be long and painful - for a dog that actually screams when he stubs his toe - and the specialist vet told us that even after all that, he might live another six months.  The cost for all of this proposed treatment was astronomical as well, but that wasn't what made up our minds.  I wouldn't want that kind of treatment for myself given the probable outcome, and we won't do it to Danno either.

As I said above, prednisone gave relief from the pain and let him drink and eat again, to the point that we went on our scheduled trip.  We came back late on Friday, and picked all our puppies up from the kennel on Saturday morning.

Skookie and Leah are as they were - though Skookie really wants her big, white friend to play with her again.

Danno was as good as could be expected, but is clearly on a relatively quick decline.  Despite the prednisone, he is still coughing up phlegm regularly after a few days, losing weight, and some coordination.  I fear he has only days - perhaps a week or two - left with us, before we have to make the final choice.

These things are always hard - awful, in fact - but we've had great times with our 85 pound furball.  He's brought joy - and an overwhelming amount of hair - into our lives, hearts, and home.  We watch over him carefully, doing our best to make him happy and comfortable, knowing it is our responsibility to keep him from suffering.

In some ways, these are dark days in our home, but Danno is still with us.  He still loves laying at our feet, begging for most any vegetable that we're cooking with or eating, and being petted as much as possible.

And we remember all the good times he has given us: the unconditional love and trust,  the need to lick everyone's nose just to show he's completely submissive, and the complete friendliness towards every human and dog he's ever met.

The vets all tell us he has an unusual disposition for a Husky.  Apparently some members of that breed aren't all that nice.  Danno is amazingly friendly, even now in his decline, and no matter what happens I will always think of him as our canine ambassador of good will.

The last chapter isn't written yet, but there isn't that much time before it is.  He's asleep behind my chair as I write this, and even now I smile when I look at him.

You're not a good dog, Danno.  You're a great dog.  And you always will be.

Just waiting for the power to go out

I'm sure it's only a matter of time before the combination of wind, rain, and PG&E causes us to lose power.  But that's yet another result of living on the edges of civilization, rather than in the thick of it.

On a barely related note, why is it that the six year old Siberian Husky with the incredibly thick, luxurious coat is the total wuss and won't go out in the rain?  "No, dad, I can hold it until at least Thursday" seems to be his response to any thought of going outdoors to relieve himself when the ground is wet.  Very strange.

Anyway, I hope you're dry and warm and happy, wherever you are.

Reactions To Coming Home

As we neared home on our recent trip I found myself noting what I was thinking and comparing that with how the dogs were reacting.  Yes, it was totally silly, but it was amusing.

I, for example, was worried.  All the worst possible things go through my mind.  What if the house has burned down and no one called to tell us?  What if someone broke in and robbed us blind while we were gone?  What if someone is doing that just as we arrive?  Yes, I suppose these things are possible, but they don't merit concern until you discover they have happened, and why the heck do I only worry about them as we approach home, instead of for the entire two weeks we've been gone?  I worry about them none the less.  In some ways I am a compulsive worrier.

Then, as we get closer and we're on roads I drive often enough to know well, I start noting the things haven't changed.  We were only gone two weeks, but I still have to note that "the store is still there, right where it was when we left."  I try not to voice these idiocies out loud (google "My you're very tall" in The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy by Douglas Adams for why not) but they do run through my head. What kind of neurosis is that?

Dogs, on the other hand, are a lot simpler in their reactions.

Having spent almost three days in the car, they are tired of it and want a change.  Our older dog - Leah - started sitting up nearly an hour from the house.  Something must have smelled right as it was dark by then and there wasn't much to see.  Still, she was alert to our arrival early on, even before we were on roads she knows from experience.  She watched out the windows and then pushed in to sit between the front seats and look forward as we hit familiar roads.

Danno, our younger (and dumber) dog, was mostly oblivious until we were only about fifteen minutes from home.  It was probably only after he picked up on something from Leah's actions that he, too, had to sit up and pay attention.

Both dogs exuded a kind of calm anticipation at this point.  They knew what was coming and looked forward to it, but there wasn't much celebration yet.  Some years ago a similar return home with Leah included barking with happiness for the last four miles.  I guess age - she's roughly ten - has mellowed her.

Once the car actually stops, of course, both dogs are dying to get into the house and back into territory they actually know.  The excitement is profound, though still relatively quiet.  By then, however, my own anticipation is basically over.  The house is still there, unchanged, and what faces me are the tasks that go with arriving at home: turn on the water heater, start the heat pump, unpack the stuff we have to have tonight, and so on.  I'm already in task mode while the dogs are romping and enjoying the return of familiar surroundings.

All of this only goes to show that our dogs are smarter than me, at least.  My wife would tell you that's an obvious conclusion.

2:45am, Dog, Skunk(?) and Limited Water

Given that title you've probably anticipated things correctly.

Early this morning our very pretty - but not so bright - male, husky needed to go out. Given he'd forgotten to eat until we went bed at something after 11pm, this was no surprise. I let him out, but kept the spotted, barking dog in so she wouldn't wake up the entire mountain. That last detail turns out to have been a mistake. Had I let her out to bark at the world this might have all been avoided.

(Aside: what is it, do you think, that makes the phrase "not so bright male husky" repetitive? Is it that all huskies or all makes aren't all that smart? Clearly it can't be that all huskies are male, as I have actually seen a female husky. Anyway, back to our narrative...)

Leah - the spotted dog - was miffed. She wanted to get out there and make things move, but I stood my ground. Our neighbors really didn't need to be woken at that hour. A couple of minutes later I called Danno back in.

Immediately upon his entrance I knew something was off. He brought with him a foul odor of something... chemicals and burning hair, perhaps? It was definitely not the usual skunk scent, though in all honesty I don't know what else it could be.

Investigation left me at a loss. The dog smelled generally, but not in specific spots. It was like he'd been sprayed with an aerosol can from a distance instead of shot at with a spray bottle. Very odd.

In any case, he stunk. So, at 3am, I had to bathe an 85 pound husky who hates water. It actually went moderately well - he didn't even howl in protest - except that tonight was the time that the float switch that protects our water pressure pump decided to turn things off. Thankfully I figured that out before I started and installed a quick workaround. The bath helped remove much of the odor, but not all of it. (Again, this doesn't feel quite like normal skunk as a result. The skunk scent I am used to lingers forever, and - being oil based - is very difficult to remove.)

Right now I am washing the second load of sheets we keep on the floor of the bedroom to reduce tracked in dirt. There's a lingering odor in there that I have not yet been able to find and eliminate, but I'm trying.

To make matters worse, the predicted high temperature today is 97 degrees. Usually I'd turn on the air conditioning in such a case, but with the odor of skunk (or something) in the house, that seems like a bad idea.

The question of whether or not it really was a skunk is still open. Perhaps it was a juvenile, or had some strange medical condition that changed the scent. Another odd thing is that if you go outside right now there is no indication of where the skunk was. If it sprayed last night I'd expect to smell it even now, but I don't.

I have ordered a water delivery, of course. The well can't quite keep up after 2.5 years of drought. I sure hope we get a really rainy winter this year. It can't arrive too soon.

Anyway, there you have it. I've had an eventful night. Hope yours was better.

On Old Dogs

I just read a lovely article about old dogs that should be shared. Please read it.

To those words can add only one thought. Weingarten mentions people who "seem unmoved by the deaths of tens of thousands through war or natural disaster will nonetheless grieve inconsolably over the loss of the family dog." He goes on to suggest a reason for this seemingly odd behavior. And I agree with him, but I want to add a second reason.

We all do this to some degree, though not necessarily over the family pet. The loss of someone close to us - a spouse or child, a close friend or relative - affects us much more than the deaths of those farther away. It's simple human nature, and those of us who are close to our dogs have simply included them in the circle of companions we'll miss more intensely when they're gone.

I've got some familiarity with old dogs, and they often have a certain accepting dignity about them. I hope I can show some of that as I age.

Introducing Danno, the Artist

In addition to my own art, I am now the publicity vehicle for the art one of our dogs creates. I'm sure this will be a big thing in the future, and that Danno's work will long overshadow my own. Oh well. When the universe hands you an opportunity like this, you don't just pass it by.

Please review Danno's Art Page and tell me what you think.

Dogs and Travel

Getting back from a vacation these days means a huge pile of email that you're behind on. In my case, the damages were slightly reduced by the fact that I had connectivity for part of the trip. My wife, on the other hand, came home to 1200 messages needing review. That's after a bunch had already been filtered into various files and others had been automatically discarded.

What I hadn't considered was that dogs fall behind too. We took our usual walk this morning for the first time in 2 weeks. Walking the loop we quickly discovered that the dogs were trying to catch up too. There was much news to be read (smelled) and many messages to be left in response to things other dogs (or cats, pigs, dear, etc.) had left in our absence.

We get behind on email. Dogs get behind on pee-mail.