Thursday, September 28, 2006

Luky's Fan Club!


Unless he's doing a sleepover, which he occasionally does at the lake house of Mommy-Kiki and Prince Gabe (coincidentally, two members of Luky's pack), Luky and I must regularly check the territory and re-mark the boundaries.

Of course, I don't get to do any marking myself . . . marking is strictly reserved for wolves and other canines. Apparently, as I'm constantly informed, non-canines do their own marking, but according to Luky they just don't pack the urinary punch strong enough to send a serious announcement. I wouldn't know. What I DO know is that Luky has a fan club all his own, and it was during a territory re-marking outing one day that I learned just how big and fervent Luky's fan club really is.

It turns out that our park (our primary territory, as it were) is a designated dog park owned and cared for by BellSouth - specifically, a kind, always-smiling gentleman named Charles. The park borders the BellSouth corporate HQ complex on Peachtree Street, Atlanta. Luky insisted that I include a picture (courtesy Google Earth - www.earth.google.com) of his park and the BellSouth building which borders to the south. The building is about sixteen stories high and Luky swears he knows most of the folks behind the windows on the park side.

I'm increasingly inclined to believe him since we often get stopped by BellSouth employees taking a morning breather or lunchtime sprint around the campus. Some even know his name, and though they may be strangers to me they have little interest in catching my attention anyway. They will stop on the sidewalk and call out to Luky, or walk up to the two of us asking about all the latest news - diet, shedding schedule, plans to see Eight Below, and so on. I might occasionally offer some comments - "He's an Alaskan Malamute . . . they are extremely sweet and gentle, even though they look like Wolves . . ." Luky goes right on signing autographs and acting like I must be talking to one of Magnolia trees or something - but certainly not to his audience.

The experience that struck me most happened within the last week or so when a woman - perhaps late 50's, and apparently a tenured employee of this BellSouth office - stopped to offer that she and her fellow workers watch for Luky out their windows every day. They think he is so beautiful and so well behaved, and sweet and gentle! The compliments went on and on and Luky just kept turning his head into the stroking hand. What a ham!!!

I don't believe Luky considers himself a superstar, or that we need to give his groupies an official name, per se, but he's got a fan club - that's for sure. I've met some of the members and they are definitely ready to stand in line for licks, if not tickets.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Be Careful Saying "Hello," Geoff

Luky was reading a recent article - "The New Search For Distant Planets" - written by UC Berkeley Astronomer and Exoplanet Sleuth, Geoff Marcy (http://astro.berkeley.edu/~gmarcy/) in the October issue of his Astronomy magazine -- in which Geoff discusses our increasing appreciation of the taxonomy of planetary types. Luky says it was almost predictable, considering that Earthlings had a relatively limited selection of planets and moons to study within our own solar system, that adding another 200 or so planets to the overall mix would give us a better understanding of the various species and types that are out there.

Luky remains fascinated by this whole concept . . . as he says, not just in the context of subjects like physics, astrophysics, cosmology, etc., but teleologically.

He started the conversation this morning before I had a chance to wake up. I had had only one shot of caffeine - just enough to find his leash and the door key and stumble down to the park for first business of the day - when he began . . .

"You have to read this Geoff Marcy article."

"Ok."

"No, I mean it," he interrupted my yawn, "and I was looking at his website where there's a link to the California & Carnegie Planet Search website (http://exoplanets.org/) where they are keeping accurate track of the exoplanet count."

"What's so important about this?"

"Don't you get it? They have developed and refined their search technologies to the point that they can locate and identify rocky, terrestrial worlds similar to Earth. And, of course, since our own solar system clearly illustrates the prevalence of things orbiting orbiting things, it has to make you wonder how many moons are out there in addition to those, now more than 200 known exo-worlds . . . and therefore, how many such bodies might potentially harbor some form of life."

"Ah, yes . . . E.T."

"Well, yes, E.T., but that's not the deal. The deal is what does E.T. think?"

"I know you're going to explain that to me, so forgive me for not working harder to intuit where you're headed. Remember, I'm just the human here, and I'm not awake!"

"Well, think about it. What if we find intelligent life. In the first place there's a real chance that we have two or three other worlds in our own system that have life, or had life in the past. It's starting to look statistically likely, if not inevitable, that life just happens!!! Plus, if you imagine the number of moons that may orbit all those planets they've discovered already . . . well, it just begins to make sense that our math calculations for the likelihood of E.T.'s existence may be at least as accurate as we might have hoped, or feared."

"Feared? Why do you say 'feared'?" I was expecting Luky to start describing a Wolf version of the phallically-laden creature in the Alien movies. He surprised me.

"So, what if they have never heard of God? What if they say they know God, and he's NOT the God that Nancy Pearcey and Janet Parshall own? What if they absolutely know they're right and everyone else is wrong - and everyone who's wrong is evil and needs to be eliminated?"

"What are you saying?"

"What if we find E.T. and he's a fundamentalist Republican?"

"Wow. That is scary!"

Saturday, September 16, 2006

Nothing Is Permanent

The weather is cooling and Luky's attitude is improving tremendously. I must say, though, that this mood change comes at a cost. He starts thinking and philosophizing a great deal more when his brain cools.

One of Luky's favorite topics of late has to do with evolution. Since we live in the South there's always opportunity for debate over the origin of life and species. Many of our neighbors are still - nearly 150 years after Darwin and others published their evidence for natural selection - trying to manufacture room for God to have a role. Luky says that if God is there, then He has a role, whether men can find room for Him or not.

But Luky has a far grander concept. He talks about evolution in the context of the universe at large. He speaks to me of the evolution of galaxies, solar and planetary systems, as well as the life that may inhabit the innumerable worlds of the cosmos.

However, the specific topic he was talking about this morning is, he says, a simple extrapolation from the Theory of Evolution . . . that the existence of anything - including all life on Earth - is temporary and inconsequential, if not accidental.

I should not have been surprised that his primary subject of illustration was the Moon! Being the Lupine creature he is, he often refers to the Moon - see, for example, his post, "Full Moons Astrowolves" from September 20, 2005 - and keeps the subject and celestial body dear to his heart.

Oddly, he is not excited that the Moon has the unique distinction of being the ONLY other celestial body upon which humans have set foot - "so far," as I am quick to interject. Luky is convinced that a Wolf should have been trained for that mission, outfitted with the necessary modifications of spacesuit, liquified Milk Bones for easy ingestion, etc., and permitted to set paw on the Moon's surface at least coincidental with Neil Armstrong. It's a little known fact of Wolf culture that Armstrong is both revered and loathed by Wolves - revered for the significance of his actually walking on that most heavenly of all celestial orbs, and loathed because his famous quote refers ONLY to men . . . "That's one small step for man; one giant leap for mankind"
(see link to "Favorite Moon Human" under his Luky's sidebar Philosophical links) . . . and clearly omitting the species that has paid that satellite tireless tribute.

Luky wants to join The Moon Society (http://www.moonsociety.org/). I'm all for it, but I know he will expect me to retrieve all his email newsletters, society news and so on.

The real bottom line for him seems to be that the Moon is moving away. While, barring catastrophic events, Neil's footprints will remain clear and distinct for millions of years, it will continue to get harder and harder to see them. The Moon is moving away from Earth about two and a quarter inches every year! Luky hates that - not just because nothing is really permanent, but because . . . well, hey, without the Moon where would we - Wolves or humans - be!?!?!?

Friday, September 15, 2006

The Moot Need Not Be Mute

Luky received the "talking dogs" email from one of his distant relatives - Uncle Bob and Aunt Diane, and Cousin Annie Perlstein - and he loves it. There are several internet links - this is one of the cleanest (www.funlol.com/funpages/talking-dogs.html).

Of course, Luky has to criticize the inarticulate diction of his canine brethren. Truth be told, Luky thinks he's above saying "hello dad, how was your day?" just to get a biscuit. If we aren't quoting Wittgenstein or Kant, then he considers the conversation moot!

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Pup Politics - I Think Luky Preferred Bush, Sr.

I have asked Luky about politics many times. It seems to me that the past six years have seen a polarizing of people's attitudes like never before in American history, and I figure Luky must have some general ideas on the subject - even if he is not registered to vote.

Well, finally, the other day he responded to my question with an interesting story, and though it took me a while to figure out what he was talking about I think it has something to do with his position on what's been happening to our country. It was rather lengthy and had to do with Wolf history and legend, so I have to ask the reader to forgive me for paraphrasing Luky's words which naturally reflect his higher mental processes - and especially for my inability to translate his peculiarly lonesome Moon howls that usually mean something like, "here I am in my territory, with my den mates, and I hope that any lost members of our pack-family can hear my cries and find their way home . . . and, perhaps bring some Milk Bone Biscuits with them . . . ," or something close to that.

Anyway, it's apparently a famous Wolf legend that long ago, when North America had many fewer human beings and many more trees and wild animals, there was an enormous Wolf pack to which many of today's packs and lone Wolves still bear resemblance. Among all the Wolves of the world this pack was called the "Lobos Vespuccis" - if I heard him right Luky was saying they descended from a Spanish pack that was known for its exploration of new forests and territories.

The Lobo Ves pack enjoyed decades of good hunting and overall pack health. Over the years the pack grew large - much larger than most Wolf packs ever grow, and larger than is normally healthy for Wolf culture. But the prevalence of prey animals and uninterrupted wild range permitted the pack to subdivide, creating friendly, extended families of the original, central pack - and all of which maintained their own local society, while respecting the central pack leadership.

During those years a succession of central pack leaders proved inspirational and motivating to all the pups, and achieved a continuing loyalty among the extended family packs that made for an overall strength that was above almost any challenge. One of the pack leaders during those wondrous years was a very intelligent male Wolf named "Beobush" (pronounced "Bay-o-bush") who came up through the ranks and won loyalty based as much on his mind as his muscle. He was superior at creative solutions to problems - especially those brought by intruders - because he had traveled widely during his pup years, and served the pack as an emissary to many other animals and far beyond the pack's marked territory. He was not known for his brawn and killer instinct, but he knew how to enlist close support from male Wolves, like "Rummyclaw" and "Chainpee," both of whom were reasonably smart and quick to urinate on the rocks and trees of other packs - and thus, Beobush was able to act thoughtful and compromise while Rummyclaw and Chainpee acted dangerous behind him.

The next leader was also smart - actually much smarter than Beobush - and though the pack enjoyed super success during his reign, with good weather and healthy prey adding to the bounty of those times, this new leader, known as "Clintwoody," offended many of the pack's more fearful members. He was irreverent when it came to some of the unwritten rules of sire-bitch relationships, and though there was plenty of precedent for that, there was a large contingent of pack members who were afraid of those tendencies in themselves and wanted to have them publicly whipped out of any Wolf who exhibited them. Luky says that ethical behavior and leadership are two different things, and he argues that trying to combine them always leads to self-contradiction . . . he had too many examples for me to list here, but essentially it comes down to the situation where some of the conservative pack members actually wanted to outlaw any other Wolf's rampant, or even just loose, marking habits, while at the same time, those same conservative Wolves would go along with bribery, extortion, unlimited corruption - things like Wolf-owned gaming glens, and crazy stuff like log bridges between the pack's territory and someplace where even mosquitoes didn't want to go - and on and on. So Luky just thinks that the overly law-abiding Wolf is pretty much what the packs call a "John Wolf Gazy," i.e., a pup-eater dressed as a clown.

However, according to the legend, Clintwoody kept lifting his hind leg and it not only scared some hypocritical moralists within the pack, but it gave a few of the counter-strategists the ability to use the fear of that hypocritical percentage to attack Clintwoody's leadership. And, according to Luky, that's when the pack set upon a path that would ultimately lead to its near total demise.

Apparently, Beobush had had some pups of his own, and even though neither of them could measure up to one-half of Beobush's wisdom, both were able - simply based on the strength of their sire's name - to gain some level of leadership within one of the pack's extended families. And then two separate circumstances contrived to push the pack to its irretrievable downfall. First, the least intelligent of the two pups - a young Wolf named, "Neobutch-Son-of-Beobush," and sometimes called "Nub" for short - became far more seduced by power than his littermate, and most of the other pups in the pack. And second, another outsider Wolf - a manipulative, greasy-coated creature, known as "Crawl Rover," started hanging close to Nub and acting like that nervous, wormy thing that lived on the shoulder of Jabba the Hutt in Star Wars VI: Return of the Jedi. And apparently Rover was willing to do almost any sort of bribe, blackmail and distortion to help Nub - even attempting to manipulate that previously referenced hypocrisy and fear with falsehood to destroy the reputation of one of the pack's most honorable warriors to promote Nub's name.

So, Nub, the pup, became leader of the pack with the help of the fearful who were easily manipulated by Rover. Plus, Nub came to the central pack with Rummyclaw and Chainpee because they had been hanging around Beobush's family ever since Beobush's retirement. Of course, Clintwoody was partly to blame as well. If he had not lifted his leg so much he would have left less opportunity for the fearful, but regardless, the history is written.

According to Luky the end came quickly because Beobush's wisdom was no longer there to keep Rummyclaw and Chainpee in check, and Nub was simply too ignorant to understand the implications of those two unleashing their dangerous impulses on the world. So all the pack's honor and integrity was quickly lost. All the Lupine philosophy - freedom of howling, openness to change, caring for Wolves and other animals that were less fortunate - not only got sacrificed, it was abandoned outright in the name of fear . . . and ironically, individual Wolf freedoms were often obliterated in the name of pursuing "freedom." In short, fear and insanity prevailed! Problems were dealt with by prejudice and reptilian aggression instead of scientific inquiry and analysis.

The rest of the world's animals began to shun the pack. Even some of the great leaders of other Wolf packs across the seas, those that had unwisely supported Nub even after the corruption and fear-manipulation was exposed, began to lose the confidence and loyalty of their own packs. It was the downfall of Lobos Ves, and the beginning of a long lonely time for Wolves the world over.

Luky says that there's a famous, old Wolf saying which was first inspired by this legend - it translates something like: "rare is the son that can match the brilliance of a shining sire."

And that is why Luky doesn't like to talk about politics. Geez - can you blame him?

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Pluto? Must Be A Hairless Breed!

Luky is pacing the hardwood floors these days. Of course, that description means nothing to any reader not familiar with the sound of the claws of a 120 pound wolf-evolved carnivore determined to make his point within the walls of a 1200 sq. ft. loft. Trust me, he can get your attention.

No, it's not a request to walk, and it's way too early for dinner. So, what's the problem?

His eyebrows get very animated as he explains his concern about the current controversy over Pluto. I really had a sneaking suspicion this might happen since, well yes, Pluto has been in the news so much; and then again, Pluto - albeit, a different animal altogether, is a dog.

"That's not the point," Luky growled in his usual, guttural tone. "In the first place, Pluto is not a dog. If you're referring to Black Pete's dog, 'Rover,' then you should already know that HE is a cartoon."

"'Rover'?" I asked. "Who is 'Rover'?"

"'Rover' is the cartoon dog that you THINK you are referring to when you say, 'Pluto.' He was originally introduced in a 1930 long animated cartoon called, The Chain Gang. Mickey Mouse gets accused of a crime he didn't commit and Black Pete - you know, Mickey's arch nemesis who starred as the bad guy in so many Mickey Mouse classics, like, Steamboat Willie . . . well, anyway, Black Pete puts Mickey in jail on the Chain Gang and Rover is one of Black Pete's watch dogs!"

"I had no idea you were such a Mickey Mouse authority."

"I tend to pay attention to all four-legged creatures, especially those that can snap their fingers so well even though they clearly have on three on each hand."

"So," I inquired, "what's so sad about Rover?"

"It's not Rover, Mr. Biped. It's Pluto. In the first place, Pluto didn't get named, 'Pluto' until Minnie Mouse stole him from the Disney illustrator's drawing board and turned him into her own sweet pet . . . it sort of reminds me of what my step mommy did when she saved us."

"Now, let's not get too personal, okay? You don't want to start describing every nuance of our pack dynamic for the entire cyber world to read, do you? After all, other packs may be lurking just over the monitor horizon, waiting to capture some portion of our territory!"

"Yes, you're right," Luky responded quickly. And then he looked at me with his twitching eyebrows . . . "You HAVE been marking during your walks, haven't you?!?"

"Uh, well, sure . . ." You can't simply tell a scent-gifted animal like a Malamute that human etiquette doesn't permit the regular dropping of drawers in the park just to make sure the pack's trail is properly urine-soaked. I've tried to explain it before and I get the blankest look you can imagine!

"Anyway," thankfully, he started in again, "I just mean that while I love all the cartoon animals, that's not what I'm talking about when I express my concern for Pluto. I'm talking about the former planet." (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pluto) - and - (www.nytimes.com/2006/08/24/science/space/25pluto.html?ex=1172030400&en=cfe4d03207c823f2&ei=5087&excamp=GGGNpluto)

"Oh, of course . . . yes, I agree with you, I'm very upset that Pluto has been demoted."

"See?" He growled. "That's what I'm talking about. It hasn't been demoted! Pluto is no longer a planet! That's not a demotion . . . unless, 'not-planet' means something like 'lowly celestial body.' I mean, do you think that stars are upset that they are not planets?"

"No, I guess not." I wasn't sure how to even think about that question, but one thing seemed likely, if stars had feelings they certainly weren't wasting them being upset about their un-planethood.

"Of course not," Luky asserted with confidence. "There's a whole exciting world of new things out there . . . unknown, mysterious new things . . . out there in a place called the Kuiper Belt. It's like the wild woods of the solar system, where all sorts of crazy wild things live and roam free, sometimes running faster than hunters toward the light, shedding their long bushy tails as they pass nearer the Sun."

"Whoa," I interjected. "It sounds to me like you have taken some poetic license with your new picture of our solar system."

He looked at me with that kind but stern expression he gets when he's trying to teach me something important . . . like when he's already asked three times for a Milk Bone, and he's not asking again . . . "Don't you know a free spirit when you see one?"

"You're saying that Pluto is not upset about being removed from our list of planets because, at its heart, it's really a free spirit?"

Luky just smiled, "Do you see a collar around its neck?"

Dr. Will Could Give Agassi Lessons!

Luky demands that I transcribe his thoughts about Dr. Will Draper (www.thevillagevets.com/vets.htm). He also insisted (and I agreed) that we include a link to Village Vets in his "Luky's Links" section. So, before I have to listen to the story for the 153rd time and begin to confuse my conversational English with conversational Malamute (a much more difficult language to articulate, but highly addictive to the ear), I'd better go ahead and translate the saga once and for all.

It all started a month or so ago when Luky began losing his appetite. That's right, all you dog-owners out there, a dog losing his appetite is a bad sign . . . but even more, those who might be Malamute parents will be able to aver that Alaskan Malamutes are food thieves and would-be hogs given half a chance. I've always attributed the apparent propensity to gluttonous display to the breed's genetic roots in Yukon-like territories. You have to figure that when food is found lying about on the ice floes, any survival-oriented, local resident Canis lupus (regardless, Wolf, Malamute, Canadian Eskimo Dog, Greenland Dog, Samoyed, Husky, etc.), is going to eat first and smell, think, digest or get sick later. After all, whether the understanding is called upon from genetic memory, or mother's example, the dog knows that if it's edible, then it's fresh-frozen. And not only that - but if he doesn't chomp on it immediately, then some other inhabitant of the frozen landscape will make quick work of the potential meal.

In other words, it's been my experience that Malamutes do not care about restaurant reviews. They may have table manners - Luky is a stickler for linen napkins and all the trappings of haute cuisine - but, like most of his Northern lupine brethren, he eats fast, and gobbles whatever looks like food. Not only that, if any other 4-legged critter acts interested in something lying around on the ground, it immediately takes on the look - and apparently, aroma - of filet mignon, and he swallows it before he even sees it! He doesn't like the description, but it's both accurate, and the cause of our recent troubles and emergency.

As I say, Luky was losing his appetite. We went to our regular vet a couple of times, did a little testing, but always came back with a clean bill. Then he started throwing up a lot, and experiencing other "explosive" symptoms.

So Luky's stepmother, Karen, decided to take him to a new vet in Decatur. Village Vets was recommended by a dog-loving neighbor, and before I knew it Luky was getting a barium scan.

The report was a little scary - to paraphrase the Vet Tech: "We see what appears to be a mass, but it is not showing up very well, and to be perfectly honest we will have to do exploratory surgery to be sure if it's really there, and what it might be."

"Okay, I guess we'll have to go ahead and schedule that. Who is the surgeon?"

"Dr. Will Draper . . . one of the doctors who opened this hospital."

Luky was already there so I couldn't ask his opinion, but over the previous eight or ten weeks he had become increasingly uncomfortable, so we figured he was going to go along with whatever we decided. But it wasn't until after the surgery that I learned the small-world nature of the entire scenario.

Some years ago - very early one Fall morning in 1994, as I recall - one of Luky's older brothers (i.e., a previous May Malamute), Pioyok, bloated for the second time and got his ticket to sleddog Heaven. Bloating - medically, per Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bloat), "gastric dilatation-volvulus," is a serious condition for large dogs, and more common than we wish were the case.

Pioyok had bloated before but was saved with emergency surgery. So we knew this time was the last - plus, he was already nearing 100 years old, counting both dog years and the age acceleration sometimes attributed to larger breeds. So, without knowing it was his last drive ever, he climbed into the car and rode with his whole pack to Pets Are People, Too (www.petsarepeopletoo.net/). We knew there was a 24-hour emergency service, but even so we were forced to awaken the doctor on duty - that's how early it was.

As alpha dog - I suppose - I was trying to avoid the emotion of the situation and remained outside, guarding the parking lot from any intruders who might have wanted to introduce fantastic bargains gathered from midtown dumpsters, or invite us to a curbside breakfast, etc. So, I let Debbie and Josh lie on the linoleum floor of Pets Are People, Too with Pioyok lying across their laps as the doctor, having confirmed the diagnosis with X-rays, administered Pioyok's intravenous boarding pass to the next world.

I did not get to know him then, and I can't really say I know him now since that morning in 1994 was the only time I actually stood and spoke with Dr. Will Draper. But it was not until Luky's recovery from exploratory surgery (see prior post -), which produced a tennis ball on a rope from his stomach, that I learned the same Dr. Will Draper who had just saved Luky was the same doctor who, 12 years before, had helped Pioyok move on to run with his celestial pack.

All this means so little to the rest of the world - and next to nothing to even the dog and Malamute owners who might happen upon Luky's blog - but believe me, the whole thing has meant a lot to Luky and his pack (me, Karen and Gabriel), and Luky feels as though the connection to Pioyok through Dr. Will is bound to be important within the overall Lupine meaning of life.

Sunday, September 03, 2006

Dr. Draper's Deep Court Save

So Luky is back from his long blogging hiatus. At least he's dictating again.

It turns out that he had several special experiences through his sabbatical, including surgery. Apparently he was getting sick a lot - like throwing up everyday, losing his appetite, and a few other unsightly and noxious symptoms. In the meantime, visits to the vet returned excellent reports from blood work, etc., so everyone was confused until we bit the bullet and opted for the expensive, barium tests.

There was some sort of mass showing up, but not one which could be identified by any of the usual, non-invasive means. Exploratory surgery was the only option. Luky just looked at us with that all-knowing, "I told you so" look.

A few days later he awoke from a half day of post-surgery recovery sleep and asked what the heck was going on. The surgeon had actually called us during the process so we already knew - they had removed a tennis ball on a rope from his stomach.

He was about to deny that he'd eaten any sporting goods during the months prior when Karen brought in a plastic zip-lock bag holding a half-digested, highly misshapen, bile-filled fuzzy lump.
Luky looked at it as if he had never heard of such a thing as a tennis ball, half-digested or otherwise, before in his life.

Karen just held it to his nose and looked him in the eye . . . "Your serve, sir!"