It's Luky's Birthday - And He Wants To Hang A Pawing

Today is Luky's birthday. He is 9. He was pretending to have some aches and pains earlier in the week, attempting - I believe - to play the ol' 7X human years card!

Anyway, we've been talking about holidays and family. It's a common topic these days - even our human friends are all over it. Luky says that humans have such a need to connect that our eventual connection gives us reason to feel lonely and forsaken when we inevitably go back to being alone. I think I understand his point.

The problem, according to him, is that humans have evolved toward the use of a societal gene. In other words, the DNA that promoted family and community won out somewhere back when developing genetic predispositions was important - it won out over our ability to be alone. It's not, he insists, that we can't be alone, survive alone, even thrive alone . . . it's just that our predilection for joining the group became the stronger influence.

Luky says we're lucky. He doesn't think we would have survived individually the way a lone Wolf can. I agree with him. It seems weird to me that just standing in my kitchen can feel meaningful when there's someone else there with me - and feel so meaningless when I'm by myself. And I agreed with Luky that there was absolutely no reason for that - because I've tested the experience with people who have nothing whatsoever to do with my personal Meaning.

It's too bad for Luky that his birthday falls close to the holidays. He doesn't care if we put up a Christmas Tree or not, but regardless, I get into thinking about the holidays and it naturally affects my communication with him.

I guess that's why he's so excited about spending Christmas Day at the Lake House - Avondale Estates - where his mom, Kiki, and Pack-mate, Prince GWeb, live. He sort of gave himself away, though, when I was admiring his stoic Lupine approach to these frenetic days of gift giving and faux joy . . . I was asking him when he wanted to go over to Kiki's on Christmas Morning and he immediately said he would be waking up there. He knew I was going to be driving over that morning so it struck me that he had already decided to spend Christmas Eve night with the rest of the Pack.

"Why do you think you should spend the night out there instead of here with me?" I asked with no special inflection. I was just interested to know.

"Well," he started, sounding uncharacteristically evasive, "if I don't stay out there I might not be able to have . . . you know, my pawing."

"Your 'pawing'?" I asked - now in my most demanding and inquisitive tone. I had no idea what a "Pawing" was and had never even heard him use that term before. Plus, he was acting very strange for a Wolf descendant!

"Prince G said he was going to hang a stocking over the fireplace," Luky started explaining somewhat apologetically. "He told me all about stockings, and that Santa came down the chimney and filled it with bones and chews and stuff."

I could scarcely believe my ears - Luky was buying into the whole Western human tradition!
"Uh," there was just no way of asking my next question in an intelligent-sounding way, "I just have to ask - what does Santa and chimney stockings have to do with 'Pawing'?"

"You don't think a Wolf is going to hang a 'stocking' on the chimney, do you? I have paws, you know!"

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of."

Hey, it's his birthday. And who am I to say that Santa doesn't fill pawings the same way he does stockings?

Luky Loves My Crazy Poems

Luky has been reading my poetry lately. I think he especially likes the fact that I freely admit I write terrible poetry, but I do a good job with doggerel! As much as he considers himself Lupine, he's partial to any reference even slightly canine, so "doggerel" would naturally be his poetry of choice.

I've recently been posting a doggerel treatise under a separate bog (www.isiwibi.blogspot.com) where Luky found the poem regarding Pets. He forgave the fact that I made altered his name in the title, "Ruky - Loky, Dose Boys No Jokey," falling victim, I think, to his own Wolfen ego. But he insists that I repost that poem below - the ISIWIBI post can be found at this link (http://isiwibi.blogspot.com/2006/11/78-ruky-loky-dose-boys-no-jokey-pets.html).

Ruky - Loky, Dose Boys No Jokey (Pets)

So You Might Take Some Comfy-Fort
From Anybody's Storm-Free Port,
Or Sue Your Wants In Lover's Court . . .
Still, Echoes In Soul's Canyon,
Can't Be Answered By Cutting Short
Your Truer Need For Some Consort . . .
And Thus The Heart Will E'er Exhort
You To A Real Companion.

The windshield wasn't muddy, nor
had it become a blur,
but there was no doubt we were hit
with lots of bits of fur.

Hair of every length and hue,
both wiry and real soft,
forced us to begin to steer
the Buggy from aloft.

We landed on our private knoll,
in a State that took its cue
from something that was modeled on
the Cincinnati Zoo.

A leopard . . . some two hundred pounds,
stood just beyond the pad.
A smaller one came walking up . . .
I guess to join his dad.

They stood up - the larger, dressed
in a fancy business suit,
while the little guy, in a pair of jeans,
was trying to look cute.

While Jo and I just sat and watched,
a dog in working clothes
strolled by the cats as if they were
just statues in repose.

About that time a horse ran up,
with ball and trunks and shoes . . .
with the flair of Michael Jordan, he
palmed the ball with hooves.

The back of his satin jacket read,
in bright embroidery . . .
a name, "The Geldings," exactly like
a team of the NBA.

The longer we sat, the more we saw.
We never ventured out,
while all the animals made their way,
living and walking about.

Then finally, we got the chance to see
a thing, so freaky weird,
I rubbed my eyes real hard to make
quite sure that they were cleared.

Now picture this, a Saint Bernard
in golfer's shirt and shorts,
and on a leash, right by his side,
a naked man cavorts . . .

"That's it!" Jo-Mima leapt, I think,
intending then, to save,
his fellow man from something he
interpreted as grave.

And fifty different animals then
turned 'round to look at Jo,
while the naked man just barked at us,
while jumping to and fro.

"Jo," I kind of whispered, "I think
it might be time to leave.
There's gotta be a leash law here
for guys like you and me."

In a moment, though, I realized
that visitors weren't new.
They turned away as if they'd seen
our kind a time or two.

So I stepped up to stand by Jo.
We both surveyed the scene."
What the hell is this about,
and what the heck's it mean?"

We started taking note of all
the creatures that were there,
now noticing their differences,
as well as all they shared.

Their clothing didn't indicate
their likelihood to smile,
but those that carried leashes seemed
to have so much less guile.

Most of those had seemed to train
some barking, human form.
There were some cats and dogs, for sure,
but humans were the norm.

A couple of times, we chanced to see
a really depressed dude,
just talking to himself, and apt
to come off pretty rude.

Jo-Mima looked at me and laughed,
"Pets are people too" . . .
And the Buggy started up as if
Jo's joke had been the clue.

"What the hell?" I asked, though we
had thought in unison."
Don't tell me that this State is based
on pets that are like men!

"I'm not sure," Jo-Mima mused,
"exactly how it works,
but I can tell by looking 'round
that pets can sure be jerks."

"But actually," I butted in,
"these pets, with pets in tow,
aren't anything like the kind of pets
that we have come to know.

And yes, they can be jerks, it seems,
but I suggest that when
we see them acting more like jerks,
we see them more like men."

The Buggy just kept on sputtering.
We knew we neared the core
of what this State was trying to say,
and what it held in store.

"So man's another animal, like
any old cat or dog,"
Jo-Mima started figuring in
his wiser monologue.

"It matters not, the form of life . . .
and so, we've seen it come
in the widest variations, and
regardless where it's from . . .

it seems to get much better when
it shares it's living with
some sort of loving, pet-like thing.
I guess it's like a gift.

It's like the lives of lonely ones
are lived more happily
when they have a loving pet
to keep them company."

There wasn't any lightning bolt,
or thundering applause . . .
the Buggy simply roared to life,
the door popped up like jaws.

We never even figured out
what word we might have coughed
that got us back into our seats,
and ready to take off.