Spring break day 1

I read a book for fun today. It was amazing; to be able to read for the sake of reading is a new thing for me. I have a sizable (HUGE) reading list. Under the 'en medias res' thing you can see what I am currently reading. I usually bounce around between books, unless one is really good and I read it exclusively.

Anyway when my dad came home from work and asked what I did today I thought for awhile before answering, "Not a Goddamn thing," which was true.

I always dislike that question though. The question isn't really asking what I did today because it would be difficult to recount everything I did every second I did it. What that question really means when someone asks it is, "What did you do today that I would care about or be interested in?"

So the answer depends on the questioner. This may sound obvious, but when you think about it, it's a surprisingly complicated mental process, like a different language that nobody speaks but a lot of people know what is meant--even when the right words aren't said. I think it's interesting.

Anyway I went outside and read Tommy Frank's Memoir. It was suggested to me by a friend at work named Van. Tommy Franks was the general in charge of operation Iraqi Freedom (I think) that got pinned as the fall guy for the blunders in Iraq. I haven't gotten to that part yet, I am on page 189 and he was just about to fall asleep when the gulf war ended.

It's really interesting. I am surprised by how well it is written, not that Generals can't write well or anything. I was being prejudiced towards grunts is all, which is disappointing to learn about myself.

Anyway, while I was reading that our dog Sasha came up to me and stood next to me so I could pet her. Sasha is an Akita, a big thick Japanese bear dog. She is really old and has hip problems and is incontinent so she spends a lot of her time outside. Hers is a really interesting story. She was without a home for 5 years living on our street and everyone, myself included, thought she belonged to some negligent neighbor who I am sure everyone wanted to reprimand for being so negligent. What had happened was her owner moved away and left their dog behind. And Sasha walked the street up and down--it was her street, her home. She watched us when we played, she watched us when we jogged she walked with us when we walked. She was this chill dog. She rarely barked, except at Mormons and Jehova's Witnesses early weekend mornings.

One day my brother was walking and Sasha joined him, just matched his stride after stepping out behind some bushy trees and he noticed her front paws were all red and inflamed and without fur and there were bugs on them. They were mites and tics and other parasites, they made her tremble when she stopped. She was really a scruffy, mangy, ugly blond dog, but my brother took pity on her. He walked the whole street and asked everyone that lived on it if the dog was theirs. They all said no. He asked them if they knew who the owner was, they all said no. The whole walk Sasha walked with him trembling nearby, and scratching her front paws and face. After the discovery that she had no family and survived by the generosity of people on the street, Kevin asked mom and dad if he could take the dog in and take care of it because it wasn't right. We do this, take animals in, and people know it and leave us their animals: kittens in a box in the flower bed, puppies at the door step. We are pet people, and all we had to do was see Sasha trembling with bugs and infection. We took her to the vet.

She had Mange, tics, fleas, lice and other bugs. She was given lots of antibiotics, bug killers and immune boosters because she in effect had doggy AIDS, possessing no immune system. After that we took her home and cleaned her up. She tolerated that, and left a thick ring of dirt and dead skin in the tub. Then came the difficult process of keeping her off the street. Our home was not her home, the streets were her home and she was exceptionally good at escaping. She demanded regular walks, which were more like guard patrols. People saw her on a leash for the first time and went out of their way to confront and scold us for neglecting Sasha for all these years. We had to explain, may times to irate people, that Sasha hadn't had a home, but now she belonged to us. They changed their tune so quick. It was interesting for me to see them go out of their way to confront us, oftentimes with the same angry words, only to learn we were taking Sasha in because no one else would. And to hear almost identical apologies and thanks.

People told us stories about Sasha, things they had seen first hand or heard. Sasha patrolled the streets before we picked her up and scared away other animals. One night she was attacked by a pack of coyotes--which are the bane to animals around here. Attacking her was a mistake. The coyotes must have thought they could kill her, and obviously didn't know the Akita Inu breed was one of the oldest canine breeds ever and regularly hunted huge game, like bears and elk. The pack of 15 or so small coyotes circled her and took turns yipping and snapping, going for the throat, working together to bring her down, as they do with larger animals, such as cows (there is a pasture nearby where they brought a cow down--there were probably 30 of them). Sasha wasted no time and charged into them ferociously attacking the pack which attacked her. Fur flew, yipes and cries echoed and at the end of a minute struggle she was bleeding out of her lip and shoulder, 3 coyotes were dead 2 more limped away as Sasha pursued. The guy that saw this took her to the vet to get stitches, she came when he called.

I remeber a year ago I was walking her and a pair of coyotes were in the creek that runs along side our road and Sasha was going nuts! She wanted to get those coyotes so bad, it was all I could do to hold her back. Luckily I have a lot of exerience with massive dogs...

Which reminds me of a time when I was 14 and walking our dog Slugger (not pictured here), a Newfoundland /chow/sheapard cross. He was a massive black dog that looked super scary, but that's as far as it went. He was a giant puppy, and wanted to play tug of war all day, everyday. He had a deep growl which he always used in play, but scared strangers. Anyway one day I was walking him and he saw a squirrel. The squirrel saw him and the squirrel turned to run away, bushy tail switching side to side. Slugger charged. 112 pounds of 14 year old boy tried to stop 130 pounds of 1 year old dog and failed. I was pulled to the ground and dragged though the pine needles and sticks for what felt like a mile. Eventually, thank God, the squirrel ran up a tree and Slugger couldn't follow and I could unwrap the leash from my hand and pull the pine needles out of my face.

Anyway, Sasha sat next to me outside while I read my book. And I looked at her, not to observe, but to know (conocer). She met me with gentle eyes and an easy pant. Years after we took her in we all kind of lost interest in her because she got old and we got tired of cleaning up her messes, which I maintain she can't help. She is an old dog. I have to say that while everyone else lost interest I gained interest. She reminds me of my own mortality. Age is much more noticeable in dogs, from puppies to strong bodied diligent pets that we take camping and hiking and swimming, and everywhere really, until she can't stand for too long before her rear legs fail on her, or they get osteosarcoma, or renal failure and have to be put down. Sasha is probably not too far from that herself, but while everyone is inside doing homework/work and paying attention to the newer Rottweiler puppy Nina, I am outside with Sasha's head on my lap stroking her face. She just lets me do it. I don't have to tell you what a loyal, trusting dog is like. But this dog is more like a cat than a dog as far as her personality goes. She is quiet, aloof, distant and when she shows any affection we all stop what we are doing and marvel in the rare occurence. Which is why I was content to just pet her outside instead of read or something, her sweet moments are rare I may not experience another.

When I think about her life, I wonder what she thinks about us taking her off the street and keeping her inside on a doggy bed. I can't be sure of what she dislikes, but I can be sure she loves to 'patrol' her street and we take her out every day.

If there is a heaven, and it is run by dogs (or cats, iguanas, snakes or fish) my family will jump to the front of the line.