Friday, December 30, 2005

It's Luky's Birthday

I was asking Luky why he's been so quiet of late. He's dictated maybe 3 or 4 posts in the past 2 months. His first reply was "time" - as in, he has none. I know that's a ruse! He has plenty of time to ogle the dogs on our floor, to nap, to lick his chops when a squirrel runs past within 50 yards . . . plenty of time to remind me of the Science Channels' program listing for A Dog's Life (we caught it at 6:00 this morning).

After the requisite back-and-forth I found out that he's even more excited about the January 26 th program called The Language of Dogs.

Then it hit me - TODAY IS DECEMBER 30. Luky turns eight years old today!

"So, correct me if I'm wrong," I raised my voice to indicate that I'd figured something out . . . plus, we were walking in parallel steps down the street - he, about 20 feet into the grass of the dogpark, and me on the sidewalk safe from the accidental tripping of any of the soft landmines planted by one of Luky's pals (one whose human counterpart is somewhat less responsible than I) . . . "But your birthday is here," I continued, "and you've been waiting to see if you were going to get fan mail or something!?!"

"No such thing," he snorted. He was sniffing the grass while he spoke. It makes him sound like he's slurring his words.

"You do realize that you are eight years old today, right?"

"Sure, but that doesn't mean anything to us."

As I've indicated in previous notes, the royal reference to himself in the plural is his way of suggesting that canines are not only an exclusive club . . . but humans are explicitly excluded. On the other hand, I've never been one to make a big deal about birthdays so I wasn't going to take issue with his attitude.

"Remember, I've got your birth certificate."

Luky looked up with an expression of mild alarm. I knew exactly what he was thinking.
"Yep, I've got a certificate that says on this day in 1997 Atertak Kanga Ublarpaluk was . . ."

"Don't say it!" He shouted.

"Say what?" I asked with as much innocence as I could feign.

"You know. It's not that I care, but I just don't want to offend any of my friends who might be listening."

I looked around . . . not a dog, nor human, in sight.

"Yeah, right."

"Thanks," he said as we turned in unison to head back to the loft.

"We have to pack for Florida, you know," I added. I thought I'd put him somewhat at ease by changing the subject. He already knew that we were driving down to visit his cousin, Barney, who shares almost the exact same birthday (I think Barney turned eight last week).

"Maybe you and Barney can celebrate your birthdays together," I suggested.

Luky looked at me with a knowing grin. He knew I was going to get it in one way or the other.

"Whelp," I semi-shouted, "I guess it's sure going to be a big day!"

"You just had to use that word, didn't you?"

Luky just hates the fact that, at least in human terms, dogs aren't born - they're whelped. He thinks it sounds demeaning.

"Whelp please . . . what's wrong with you? What are you talking about?" I responded.

Hey, it's his eighth birthday. If he were me he'd be 56. Why should he skip all the razzing? I plan on replacing "well" with "whelp" all day long!

"I'll be glad when this is over," he said.

"Whelp, you can say that again!"

Happy Birthday, Luky - and Barney!

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

What's Believing Got To Do With It?

Luky did a sleepover the other night. Christmas night to be exact. He decided to stay over at Kiki and Gabe's house and they brought him home the next day. He was excited to see me, but he clearly had a wonderful and enjoyable time!

He's been working on his theory of believing lately. This has gone on now for some months. I find it interesting that his analysis of the concept of belief coincides with Christmas and the question of Santa Claus, etc. I did not push the issue to any great extent. He seems relatively content with his position. Besides, as he has been wont to repeat to me of late, "It's not what you believe that counts, it's what you believe you believe!"

Yeah, I'm not sure I get it either!

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Holidays & Birthdays


Luky was so excited yesterday. I visited with Uncle Jack which is always a fantastic and stimulating experience. Luky's mom (Kiki) is out of town which has him rather glum, so the prospect of my returning with stories, and a pass-along kiss on the snoot, from Uncle Jack really brightened his day.

We met at a Caribou Coffee place. Luky doesn't attend these meetings - unless we're all sitting outside. In the first place he never got into the coffeehouse thing, plus, he claims that most of the Starbucks and Caribous in Atlanta have a "no wolves" policy. I have no idea how he came to that conclusion but he insists it is so.

In addition to stories and snoot kisses, I had to report that Uncle Jack showed up with a copy of a book, Utterly lovable dogs (pictured). Luky says he knows the author.

I would apologize for the infrequency of his posting of late, but the truth is Luky's been extremely busy! First there was Thanksgiving. Then Kiki had a holiday party at her house and Luky wanted to spend weekends helping her get ready. (I should have known that his volunteering to rake leaves was just a ruse. He always acts like he's making a gallant effort at such things but must retreat since his paws and claws are inadequate for the tools of the task. Truth be told, this whole "lacking opposable thumbs" excuse is getting a little old. The next time he tries that on me I'm going to have special gloves ready that can lock rake handles, paint brushes, grilling utensils, etc., in place. The era of my fulfilling all his chore commitments is coming to an end!)

In addition to understandable, even predictable, holiday activities - travels, parties, shopping and so on - our family and extended family birthdays pile up at this time of year. Luky's favorite human grandpa turned 86 yesterday (that's cousin Barney's daddy); then, the aforementioned Yellow Lab Barney turns eight this week, plus his human cousin Scipio (whom Luky insists is really a Great Dane disguised as a human boy) celebrates a birthday today . . . and I'm sure we're leaving out a bunch of others, but before we stop the birthday list I'm forced to acknowledge that Luky will also be turning eight on the 30th.

He says he's happy for me to stop here with the light news. He's ready to start posting the heavy concepts of the past month's musings.

Friday, December 09, 2005

Santa Claus Or God?

Luky is not on sabbatical. He's been working on his letter to Santa. But a couple of mornings this week - with subfreezing temperatures to greet our earliest predawn visits to the park - have gotten him thinking about posting to his blog again. It's a Malamute thing.

Also, Luky's Uncle Jack has been by a couple of times recently, and that always gets Luky thinking about the loftier issues of life.

"Belief" has been the biggest topic of late - remember, he regularly delves into time travel, meaning of life and all manner of other intellectual pursuits and passions - but when he starts dictating these days it's usually about the topic of belief. It's not just God and religion, but any kind of belief.

Luky says that expressions of belief (he calls them "DOBs" which stands for "declarations of belief") represent the most abusive use of language in humanspeak - apparently dogs and wolves have a much higher and stricter code of honor when it comes to language and communication. After weeks of listening to him talk to himself in the hallways, and just lying around on his designer futon, I think I'm starting to understand what he means. The bottom line is, people can endorse all sorts of crazy ideas without the least bit of personal responsibility simply by saying, "I believe 'X'," where "X" stands for anything from God and Santa Claus, to weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, or the ethical intents of countries.

I asked him if he really meant to leave Santa Claus in discussions like this. His answer was, as I ought to have expected, thorough, thoughtful and without a crack.

"DOBs are, after all, descriptions of mental states of conviction, so it doesn't matter how I answer your question, unless I'm prepared to offer incontrovertible evidence my conviction cannot be transferred or fully explained to you if you don't already have an inclination to so believe."

"What in the hell does that mean?" I gathered he was purposely trying to lose me in a rooster tail of meaning left misting the atmosphere after such gobbledygook.

"It means that, just like God and UFOs, the subject of my belief in Santa Claus is between me and Santa."

"I understand WHAT you're saying," I admitted, "but you're still avoiding the question. Perhaps you just don't want to say 'Yes' and look like a fool, but then you also don't want to say 'No,' and take the chance of offending him if he's really there and planning to bring you crates of biscuits."

Luky looked at me, his nose twitching searching for the scent of truth, and his furry eyebrows rising above his widening eyes.

"Are you talking about Santa Claus or God?" He asked.

Yeah, he got my point!