Posts from — June 2008

So, now we know.

Through the wonders of science and marketing, I was recently able to get the final word on Hooper’s genetic makeup. Two weeks ago, I had to take Hooper to the vet for his rabies and distemper shots, and I seized the opportunity to have them also draw blood for the Wisdom Panel DNA test. This test, a fairly new offering in the veterinary community, can identify the genetic markers of 134 AKC-recognized dog breeds from a blood sample. The price has dropped somewhat, to a still-expensive $120, but I thought it would be fun to know exactly what’s goin’ on there in Hooper’s genetic makeup. So I said what the hell.

The test consists of drawing blood from the dog in question, and sending it off to the Wisdom Panel People for analysis. They are supposed to send you a full report in the mail, but so far that has not arrived. The veterinarian did get the results however, and they called us on Friday and left a voice mail message with the results. I waited for Brenda to get home from work before playing the second half of the message, so we could find out together. As we played the message, Hooper sat beside us, head tilted to the side, as we strained to listen to the message on the speakerphone; he could sense this news was important.

And so, according to the DNA analysis, Hooper is a slightly tainted Labrador Retriever. It’s no shock to anyone who has seen him that he’s a dog built on a Lab foundation, but just what the heck are the rest of the bits, this is what I paid my $120 to find out. The Humane Society we adopted him from guessed Border Collie, which I could believe from his smaller size, fringier tail and intense herding instinct. But it turns out, there’s no Border Collie in there. Close, though…

Hooper Primo Avery Guglielmetti-King is a Labrador Retriever, with traces of Airedale Terrier, Bearded Collie, and—get this: Cavalier King Charles Spaniel.

So, yeah. Now we know.

The results spawned another round of dog breed research on my part, since all three of these trace breeds are breeds I hadn’t previously had an interest in. The Bearded Collie, it turns out, is the progenitor of the Border Collie we thought Hooper was partly comprised of. So, that sorta makes sense. It’s another herding breed, like the Border Collie, which helps explain Hooper’s endless reserve of energy:

Bearded Collies are a very high energy breed, originally bred to work in the Scottish Highlands herding sheep. Beardies also excel at dog agility trials. They also prefer to be kept indoors with their families.

The Airedale Terrier threw me for a loop, as I have not really seen terrier-ish traits in Hoop (except maybe for his propensity for annoying bark fests). But the Airedale Terrier, as more of a working dog than a squirrel chaser as most terriers are, does make sense when you look at Hooper’s behavior and interests:

The Airedale can be used as a working dog and also as a hunter. Airedales exhibit some herding characteristics as well, and have a propensity to chase animals. They have no problem working with cattle and livestock.

…explains Hooper’s insistence on chasing Ellie all over the house…

The Airedale is also a stoic, able to withstand pain and injury, the Airedale’s hurts and illnesses often go unnoticed until they become severe and require veterinary attention.

…explains the negligible reaction when I cut Hooper’s nail to the quick and he bled all over the living room without so much as a yelp or a whimper…

The breed has also been called the Waterside Terrier, because it was bred originally to hunt otters in and around the valleys of the River Aire from whence it gets its name.

…explains his love for the water as much as his Lab foundation does.

Now, the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Shit. A fucking toy breed, god dammit. At least, that was my first reaction. But the smaller size of that breed explains Hooper’s topping out at 50lbs for a MostlyLab, instead of the more usual 85lbs for a purebred Lab. After some research, some other aspects of his personality can be traced back to this breed:

The breed is highly affectionate… Most dogs of the breed are playful, extremely patient and eager to please. A well-socialized Cavalier will not be shy about socializing with much larger dogs. (However, on occasion, this tendency can be dangerous, as many cavaliers will presume all other dogs to be equally friendly, and may attempt to greet and play with aggressive dogs.)

As I usually reply to strangers I encounter on the paths when they ask “Is your dog friendly?”, “to a fault.”. Unfortunately, Cavalier King Charles Spaniels also suffer from a long list of serious genetic defects (Royal Family, are you paying attention?), so we’ll just have to hope that the traces Hooper got are just the good traces.

So it does seem that I can find personality and behavior markers in Hooper that match up quite well with the genetic markers they found in his blood. Was it worth it? I guess so. I do find the whole thing fascinating; ever since bringing Hooper home I have read quite a lot on dogs, dog breeds and canine natural history/evolution. So this was a fun little lab(oratory) experiment for me. Really, anything that gives one an insight into the history of their stray dog is worth a lot, if you ask me. I mean, how does a dog composed of a breed from Newfoundland and bits of three other breeds all from the United Kingdom end up on the street in Vernal, Utah?

When Hooper leaps into the water at the East Boulder Dog Park, and swims out to the ball like a nuclear submarine at full power, this genetic exercise helps refine the scene that I’m watching. But at the same time, none of it matters. Hooper is Hooper. He loves me, he loves the water, he loves to eat, play, and sleep. He’s a dog, a great dog, and that’s really all that matters.

Today in Colorado it’s “Bike to Work Day”, part of the greater “Walk and Bike Month” promoted by the state and various organizations. (Nationally, this event happens in April or May, but in Colorado there could be a foot of snow on the roads then, so we do it a little later here.) Now, on the surface of things, this is great. a major promotion of the use of alternative transportation, to open your eyes to the wonders of commuting outside of that steel box you drive the rest of the year. In the spirit of promoting the event and rewarding the riders and walkers, businesses all over Boulder set up stands and hand out free breakfasts and free samples of energy drinks, granola bars, what have you. Mechanic stations are set up to help riders fix problems with their bikes, bands play, and a general circus atmosphere prevails.

And this, of course, brings ‘em out in droves.

It should be a great day; bike paths jammed with riders taking advantage of one of the greatest resources Boulder has to offer, empty parking lots all over town, people awakening to the joy of cycling and independent transportation.

But the reality is, it’s a Bataan death march, a gauntlet of epic proportions, a slog through a thicket of out-of-shape dopes weaving around on the paths with no regard for anyone but themselves, barely able to keep their bikes—that all sound like a chorus of crickets because they haven’t seen a drop of chain lube in ten years—upright while trying to shovel yet another free breakfast burrito into their cakeholes as they disobey traffic signals and make a general mess of things, all the while giving cyclists a bad name.

Look people, I’m thrilled you chose to get on the bike today. But here’s a thought: how’s about you get on the bike tomorrow too, and the next day and the next? Ride because it’s fun, healthy, green and all that good stuff, and not just because you get free shit, ok? Maybe buy a tube of lube and learn how to maintain your bike to the most basic level of safety and mechanical efficiency. Maybe, just maybe, learn the rules of the road (and obey them), get a clue that you are not the only bike on the path, and for god’s sake take the fucking earphones outta your head.

Maybe Bike to Work Day needs to be preceded by a “fix your bike and learn to ride week” or something. I’m not being facetious here. It could make for an even more successful day. I used to teach a bicycle maintenance course when I worked at Bike Tech in Philly, and people always emerged with a greater appreciation for their bikes and for what they were doing with them. Basic traffic awareness and riding skill courses would make riders safer and more confident, and might just keep more people riding throughout the year instead of just on these big promotional days. There is a great non-profit bicycle advocacy co-op, if you will, here in Boulder, Community Cycles. They have the right idea; they have been promoting this very idea on their website and through their actions all month:

Walk & Bike Month is about educating and trying to change behavior in a fun and smart way. It really is not about a day, week or month, it’s about committing to reduce our dependency on cars and reaping all the benefits that walking or biking can entail – saving money, getting out to see the community, meeting your neighbors and staying fit.

Right on, Community Cycles! I’m thinking maybe next year I’ll attach giant speakers to a cart and pull it around Boulder the weeks before Bike to Work Day, informing the villagers of this great establishment and their programs that could make the big day far more pleasant for everyone involved.

My old college roommate sent me this gem, an a.p. story out of Columbus, Ohio. Read to the end for the kicker; I even put it in bold type, not that it needs any emphasis.

Ohio board reviews report of teacher burning kids By DOUG WHITEMAN, Associated Press Writer
COLUMBUS, Ohio - Members of the Mount Vernon school board met Friday to discuss a finding that a middle school teacher preached his Christian beliefs despite staff complaints, even using a device to burn the image of a cross on students’ arms.

Mount Vernon Middle School teacher John Freshwater also taught creationism in his science class and was insubordinate in failing to remove a Bible and other religious materials from his classroom, a report by independent investigators said.

School board members gathered a day after consulting firm H.R. On Call Inc. released its report. It wasn’t immediately clear what action, if any, officials in the community about 40 miles northeast of Columbus would take against Freshwater.

Superintendent Stephen Short declined to comment before the meeting. Freshwater’s attorney, Roger Weaver, didn’t immediately return a message seeking comment.
The report comes one week after a family filed a lawsuit in U.S. District Court in Columbus against Freshwater and the school district, saying Freshwater burned a cross on their child’s arm that remained for three or four weeks.

Freshwater’s friend Dave Daubenmire defended him.
“With the exception of the cross-burning episode … I believe John Freshwater is teaching the values of the parents in the Mount Vernon school district,” he told The Columbus Dispatch for a story published Friday.

Holy shit.

Back in December, I read an article on lifehacker that linked to an in-depth article on another website about the joys of wet shaving. This is the old-school practice of using a quality razor with a double edge “safety razor” blade, like my dad used to use. We’re talking basic tech here, baby: a single piece of stainless steel, held in a high-quality metal handle, guided across a face covered in a lather that was worked in and built up by hand, with a beaver hair brush.

I was intrigued by the idea of paying fifty cents for a blade, instead of three bucks a pop for Gillette’s latest Mach IX Superturbo Ultima Luberiffic, Ultra Smooth, Ultra Fast, Ultra Sexy Beardarator Blades, with lubricating strip. A blade’s a blade, right? I need it to cut hairs off my face. I don’t need three or four of them in one unit, I don’t need all the plastic, and I don’t need (and am actually creeped-out by) the lubricating strips that shrivel up after one use and look like little green-colored strips of bacon.

The article (and the one it linked to, and the many others I have read since) talked about how smooth a shave you can get, and how people with common skin problems like razor burn and razor bumps have found relief by going back to wet shaving products and techniques, and I was intrigued. I haven’t traditionally had skin problems with shaving, largely because I used to avoid it like the plague; a good week was a two-shave week, the long stubble easier to scrape off every few days with my disposables. God forbid I had to shave two days in a row, that second day was murder. That lubricating strip doesn’t do shit.

Skin issues aside, I was interested in buying a razor I could have forever, one that was well-made and wouldn’t end up in a landfill. A tool, not a toy. And that’s exactly what I got.

I invested in a Merkur razor, some blades, a beaver brush and a tube of Proraso shaving cream. The first day, I shaved half my face off. But by the third day I was getting used to the feel and weight of the razor and the difference in technique required (you need to constantly adjust the position of the razor to maintain the blade angle on your face); I started getting nick-free shaves that were closer and closer. I’ve been using this razor for almost a month now, and at this point, I actually miss shaving if I have to skip a day for some reason. I compulsively feel my face all morning for stubble, for little stubborn spots of follicle resistance to my attempts. I’m getting better and better, and my face feels smooth and healthy. I’m sold. I just ordered a six month supply of blades, for twenty five bucks.

It’s all about the products, the technique and the preparation. The shaving cream and the aftershave balms cost more, and I’m trying different ones to find the best fit, but they are made of natural ingredients and each one is better than the last, so it’s a fun experiment to embark on. Technique is free to obtain, and rewarding to boot. Preparation—the warm water soak and the lather buildup with the brush—take a little longer than a shot of Barbasol, but, my god, the difference is night and day.

I am this close to shaving off my goatee, just so I have even more facial surface area to shave each morning, that’s how much I love this shit. Fifty bucks for a razor you’ll have forever; get some blades, cream, a brush, and some all-important aftershave balm, and you will embark on an incredible journey of facial bliss. Trust me.

Check out these links, if you’re at all interested in getting the closest and healthiest shave of your life:

http://lifehacker.com/336112/make-grooming-greener-and-cheaper-with-wet-shaving

http://zenhabits.net/2007/12/the-zen-of-shaving-how-a-double-edge-razor-can-change-your-life

http://www.classicshaving.com

This shit makes me crazy. The local paper ran an article today about the booming pet care business, especially in dog-crazy Boulder. Here in Boulder, there is a “law” that encourages Boulder pet owners to refer to themselves as their pet’s “guardians”, not “owners”. You know how I feel about this one; I have a receipt. But it gives you an idea of the mentality Boulder residents have towards their pets, and in general I think it’s great. Here, our dogs are our kids. They hike (off-leash) with us, they frolic in the many dog parks, they are welcome in many businesses, not just the multitude of pet stores and pet bakeries (yes, pet bakeries), and they are everywhere. In an attempt to appear balanced, the author obtained some dissenting views, views on people who pour themselves into the care of their animals; views I have had to put up with from many co-workers over the years and even my own family members. The one they chose to print was a doozy:

“They either need to have children or get the Internet.”

This scholar was quoted while standing in the most overpriced petstore in Boulder with her Australian Shepherd at her side. I feel sorry for that Aussie. She has a dog, but clearly it’s “just a dog”. No massage, no cancer therapy, no quality dog food for this guy, oh no; it’s just a dog.

Where do we begin? First off, we can’t all have kids (you stupid bitch). Some of us don’t want to have kids (you myopic wench). And besides, the internet is a global computer network infrastructure that is owned by no one and utilized by many. You don’t “get” the internet, just like Al Gore didn’t “invent” it. And if you equate the responsibility of raising kids with a monthly cable internet subscription plan, I feel sorry for your kids as well as your Aussie (you sick cunt).

Emma, our dear departed cat and companion of 16 years, was my child and I loved her. When she died I struggled with my feelings of loss and attachment and was alternately devastated and frustrated—by my immense sorrow on the one hand, and the I-should-just-get-over-it-already-vibe I felt from some of my child rearing friends and family members.

Some people just don’t get it. As I type this, Hooper lies at my feet looking content and I get a warm feeling knowing that Brenda & I are responsible for this. A domestic dog living in a city is as dependent on us as any child. They can’t talk, they live much shorter lives, they have no opposable thumbs and they eat cat poo, but does that mean they don’t deserve to have someone take care of them and raise them? They didn’t ask to be born on the street, and they certainly seem to enjoy the spoils of good dog ownership: Hooper has a comfy bed and eats like a king, a diet of raw food and grain-free dry food that is supplemented with fish oil and other supplements. He is engaged in learning new “tricks” and goes to the park every single day. Is this indulgent? I don’t think so; he is canis familiaris, not canis lupus. He is descended from the wolf, but he is something else, an evolved species that owes its existence to the fact that it figured out 15,000 years ago that maybe these humans could work together with them to make a greater existence for us both, and we have. And now that we are all in a better situation than our ancestors of 15,000 years past (hey, we even have Internet!), are we supposed to simply treat these animals like some barely-alive, barely-feeling entity? What the hell is the point in that? Look, if you want to have kids, great. But bear in mind that you are engaging in the least sustainable practice possible in the world today, and an overwhelming number of you are doing a shitty job of raising your progeny, to boot. So get the fuck over yourselves. Your kids consume more than any dog, and most of them are rude, snotty and grow up with an overwhelming sense of entitlement. How does that validate what you do? I’ll tell you: it doesn’t.

So let me and my people raise our dogs and cats, naming them and petting them and feeding them and massaging them and playing with them and training them and loving them, worrying about them, caring about them, putting up with them when they are being assholes and just connecting with them. You do what you feel you need to do, I won’t implore you to get an internet of your own, but if your kid comes up to me and tries to talk to me in a restaurant while you bury your head in a burger, I’m telling it it’s an asshole, and I don’t care how young it is, capiche?

And this leads me to my latest announcement: I’m thinking about my third of fourth career change (depending on how you quantify a career): I have been thinking of becoming a veterinarian for a little while now (fleeting thoughts go back decades, but serious thought has occupied the last months or so), and I’m really starting to look into it. It’s past the “idea stage” of many of my hare-brained schemes and more into the active planning stage. More on this later.

This is crazy. An old college friend found me on Facebook and added me as a friend. When I got the notice, I of course checked out his Facebook page, which lists all of our mutual friends. The usual suspects were there, roommates and friends from college, but so was this guy Roland who I know because he uses Radiance, the lighting software I use every day. Worlds colliding!

I thought it must be some mistake, but it turns out those two went to high school together in Cyprus. Of course! I recalled when I first met Roland and he told me he went to school in Cyprus, I thought to myself “hmmm, I know someone else who went to school there too…”. What are the odds?

Cool.

Last night, my friend Leslie & I went to see Cake play at the Chatauqua Auditorium, as the title of this post suggests. Cake is another one of those bands that thrived when I was in musical denial during the ’90s and early ’00s, but I guess I discovered them for myself a few years ago. I love their sound, their lyrics and their “whatever” attitude. Their lyrics touch on so many of my cares and beliefs that it’s uncanny. They mock music groupies in “Rock & Roll Lifestyle” (and interestingly they probably hurt their own t-shirt sales in the process; read the lyrics, you’ll see what I mean), the insanity of war in “I Bombed Korea”, and, in what is probably my favorite Cake song from a lyrical/message standpoint, “Tougher than it is”:

Well there is no such thing as you It doesn’t matter what you do
The more you try to qualify
The more it all will pass you by
Some people like to make life a little tougher than it is
Some people like to make life a little tougher than it is
Well the more you try to shake the cat
The more the thing will bite and scratch
Its best I think to leave its fur and to listen to its silky purr
Some people like to make life a little tougher than it is
Some people like to make life a little tougher than it is
Well there is no such thing as you
It doesn’t matter what you do
The more you try to qualify
The more it all will pass you by
Some people like to make life a little tougher than it is
Some people like to make life a little tougher than it is
Some people like to make life a little tougher than it is

Sadly, they did not do “Tougher…” last night, but they rolled out a lot of the faves, including a great rip at “Short Skirt, Long Jacket” for the encore, with a rousing crowd participation for the “na-na-na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na-NA-nas”. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve ridden home from work with my iPod blasting that tune, rolling into the twists and turns of the Skunk Creek bike path singing the “na-nas” out loud, so it was fun to do it along with a few hundred other fans in the auditorium last night.

It also appears that 70’s metal/rock is the thing to cover these days, because just as the Eels covered “Zep’s “Good Times, Bad Times” at the show I saw a couple months ago, Cake covered Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs” last night. Good choice, fair execution, I thought.

Brenda is fully into 12-hour days at the Colorado Shakespeare Festival already (two weeks in), and so even though we bought the tickets together a few weeks ago, she begged off at the last minute so she could get some well-deserved couch time. I’m glad Leslie was willing to tag along and check out the show, and to show me where the hell the auditorium was in the first place.

The Chatauqua Auditorium is a nice venue, a semi-open arena with good acoustics and a great location at the base of the Flatirons. It also turns out that you can get a decent listen of the show just outside the place, and if you get there early enough, you can plop a blanket down on the grass just outside the seating area and not only listen to the show but even see the show. I’ve made a mental note of that for next time.

All in all a great night in Boulder.

This:

Plus this:

Equals this:

Yeah, that’s right, I sprained my ankle dismounting from my longboard at high speed yesterday afternoon. Hoop & I have been getting used to having him pull me around on the board, something I thought he’d enjoy and possibly a fun way to help him burn off some energy. We’ve been practicing on a stretch of bike path that’s nestled between a highway retaining wall and some backyard fences, so it’s impossible for Hooper to run off into the street if I have to let go. Another thing we have been practicing is waiting at crosswalks before entering the street. As we approach a curb cut on one of our walks, a simple, firm “wait” generally halts Hooper in his tracks and he waits for me to give the OK to cross. So yesterday I had the bright idea that we would cruise on the longboard and test his ability to wait while pulling. Didn’t go so well.

When I plopped the board down, Hooper took off in a full run; this was fun at first, as he clawed for more, ears flapping, and we mushed down the path like an Iditarod team on crack. But quickly I could see he was in another zone, one that only knows “RUN”, and not “WAIT”. This was confirmed as I started yelling “wait”, “Wait”, “WAIT!” as the street got closer. At this point we were going too fast for me to be able to stop the board and hold onto the leash, so I made sure the street was clear, let go of the leash and jumped off the board. Unfortunately for me, I landed on my left foot slightly turned, which promptly rolled over far more than it should have. I rolled into the grass, and Hooper stood across the street, tail wagging, watching the now-pilotless longboard roll up next to him. He looked at me quizzically as I laid there in the grass, as if to say “Yo Rob, the board’s over here! Come on!”

I collected myself, the board and the dog and we hobbled home, and by the time I got home I realized I had probably done something bad. I was walking on it, so I was pretty sure it wasn’t broken, but my ankle was now swelling by the minute. Brenda was at work (with the car), so I called a friend to drive me over to the hospital to get this checked out while Hooper lamented his sled-dog lesson cut short.

X-rays proved there is no broken bone in there, but my left ankle is swollen to about the size of a softball. I don’t see myself doing much longboarding or much of anything for a while. Bummer.