Category: Dogs

Season’s growlings

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 12 Comments
Christmas 2011, Santa's elves
Capping off another terrific Christmas: from left, Bouncing Buddy Banzai the Spinning Japanese Chin; Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein, who clearly had too much eggnog last night; and Miss Mia Sopaipilla.

Preparations for the annual holiday feast have begun at Chez Dog. Herself’s gift, a Canon Vixia HF M41 camcorder, is charging on the kitchen table (she aced a video-production class this fall) as she assembles a raspberry cobbler.

Next up is a cornbread-stuffing recipe we’ve never tried before — the cornbread itself is already done, and top-notch it is, too — followed by an appetizer of toasted baguettes topped with a rich spread of prosciutto, butter, Parmigiano-Reggiano and pine nuts (also a newcomer); mashed spuds; sauteéd spinach with mushrooms; giblet gravy, cranberry relish; and last but not least, roast turkey.

I usually do something offbeat for Christmas, like a Northern New Mexican feast or a chicken cacciatore, but this year I decided we needed the comfort food. The leftovers are the best part of a traditional turkey dinner — turkey sandwiches, turkey enchiladas, turkey soup, and whatnot. You cook like a mad bastard for one day and reheat leftovers for three days. What’s not to like?

Meanwhile, the traditional Humiliation of the Animals has been accomplished. The furry swine failed to get me a MacBook Air or an iPhone 4, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let that pass without retribution. You can order that stuff online, f’chrissakes. No messy human interaction or trips to the mall required:

“Hello, how may I help you?

“Meow.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Meow!”

“Come again?”

“Meeeowwwwwwrrrr. ... Oh, fuck it, Buddy, you try.”

“Woof?”

That was absurd, let’s eat dead bird

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 9 Comments
Mia and Turkish
Mia and Turkish watch as Buddy (not pictured) gets a grooming from Herself.

The mighty river of VeloNews finally slowed to a trickle today. I fired off an invoice to Corporate and slipped out for a short ride.

Several impatient motorists seemed in dire need of a brisk hosing down with a fire extinguisher full of tryptophan on this day before Thanksgiving. I tallied exactly 349,392 moving violations intended to kill me before abandoning the count.

Plenty of static violations, too, my favorite being the bulbous land yacht parked smack dab in the middle of the bike lane, right under the “No Parking In Bike Lane” sign. This appalling lack of reading comprehension is not encouraging to those of us who earn our meager livings from wielding the English language.

Oh, well. At least I got my big ass out in the late-November sunshine (this is not strictly accurate, of course; it was wearing bib shorts). Herself and I took the critters out for an airing, too. Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein, Miss Mia Sopaipilla and Banzai Buddy the Japanese Wonder Chin all scored themselves a little free vitamin D, which can be hard to come by this time of year.

That’s a little something to be thankful for in trying times when we 99 percenters hear the distant ring of carving knives clashing rhythmically against sharpening steels and wonder if we’re what’s for dinner.

And if that doesn’t get your drumstick throbbing, raise a glass to longtime Friend of the DogS(h)ite Boz, who notes in comments that he’s back to working for The Man.

From our family to yours, happy Thanksgiving.

This way to the Egress

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 15 Comments

There are no easy stages at this year’s Vuelta a España.

Today’s finale appeared to have been designed via collaboration among P.T. Barnum, M.C. Escher and Owsley Stanley. It’s a miracle that the final few meters weren’t greased with human flesh.

I arose just in time to catch the last 50km, my evening’s repose having been less than refreshing thanks to Buddy the Wonder Dog, who is a restless bedmate. Like Turkish, who stretches out next to me like a hot, furry sack of traction sand, the Budster is a fan of body contact and spent the night glued to me like a decal, occasionally snuffling through his abbreviated snoot, rolling over or sighing.

Herself finally caved around 5:30 or so and got up to deal with the little tosser, and I tried to go to sleep. Miss Mia Sopaipilla slipped in through the open door, taking up residence under the bed; Herself corraled her, too, and clicked the door solidly shut so the Turk’ couldn’t join the party.

Long story short, I finally got up around 8:30 feeling like someone had unplugged about half my RAM and poured a beer onto my motherboard. I contributed some weak snark to Charles Pelkey’s LiveUpdateGuy, prepared a late breakfast and now I’m at Heuberger Subaru waiting for them to find something wrong with the rice grinder as I prepare for my triumphant return to Interbike.

There will not be any dogs in the bed in Vegas. Just sayin’.

Beans ‘n’ booze

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 24 Comments

Herself and I dined out this evening with a neighbor and some of her out-of-town family, with whom we have become friendly over the years.

There was wine afterward on our back deck, and as it was getting dark nobody noticed (I hope) the half-assed mowing job I did yesterday. Miss Mia Sopaipilla and Buddy the Wonder Dog made brief appearances to rave reviews, but Turkish refused to leave his dressing room, citing obscure union regs about dogs and cats and never the twain shall meet outside the Thunderdome, and certainly not while the party of the first part is wearing a ridiculous purple harness and leash, which is the only way the big galoot gets outside since collecting a nasty and expensive abscess while at large and unfettered.

All in all, it was a pleasant way to end a day of making bricks without straw at PharaohNews. A casual glance at the interwebs at midshift unearthed a few small-helmet types aghast at our lack of investigative journalism. This is not unlike complaining that the free blowjob you just got from the unemployed barmaid didn’t include a free shot of top-shelf tequila with an artisan-beer back.

No, that’s not the debt ceiling being raised

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 9 Comments
Afternoon rainbow
Just think, if we could find the pot of gold at the end of that rascal, we could solve our national debt "crisis" ... by imprisoning the House GOP caucus for treason.

Just a rainbow, courtesy of the afternoon monsoons, which have returned for a while. They sure do cool things down at night.

Meanwhile, in DeeCee, Weepy John Boehner is still leading from the rear, frantically trying to figure out which brand of tinfoil his Tea Bagger buddies want for their beanies. The gang at Talking Points Memo is on top of things as they happen, and for high-quality analysis and snark you can check with Steve Benen at Political Animal and Kevin Drum at Mother Jones.

Suffice it to say that the news is all bad. At least Kevin supplies cat-blogging on Fridays to lighten the mood.

Here in Dog Country we’ll engage in a bit of dog-blogging as a counterpoint. We’ve been crate-training Buddy and so far, so good. He’s (mostly) sleeping through the night and has had no more accidents in the crate since we pulled the bedding out of it. He’s getting at least one longish walk daily and plenty of backyard time. And today he even romped a bit with Herself, gamboling about the DogHaus like a happy pup and even barking a couple of times, just for the hell of it.

The Feline Caucus, of course, finds this incomprehensible. But so far they haven’t tried any nihilistic shenanigans, which goes to show you that pretty much any old four-legged furball is smarter than the average House Repuglicant.