Subdivided We Stand Meets Marathon Man

The Mutts

And then there were none.  I delivered Smithers to his new owners last night. 

Needless to say, it's not a particularly happy day in Casa di Subdivided.  I may or may not have more to say about it later -- but for now, let's look back at a happier doggy time, as requested by the Marathon Man.  As I mentioned last time, the video here is pretty bad, but it's the audio that makes this clip.

Rear Admiral

The other day, Julie remarked that as a result of my recent illness-derived weight loss, I had, and I quote, "lost my bum."

Adam was in the vicinity, and overheard the remark.  What resulted was a full day of questioning.

Daddy, where's your bum?
Daddy, how did you lose your bum?
Daddy, we need to look for your bum....

No amount of explanation could satisfy the young man.  Julie suggested that some ice cream might be the most useful tool in helping me find my bum, but Adam insisted that a flashlight would be more useful.

Eventually, he dropped the topic -- but something reminded me of this older photo, so I thought I'd present it again and fib and say that it's from the great bum hunt of 2006.  (Actually, as you can see by the date, it's from 2005, and we were looking for a dog treat that had fallen under the stove.  But why let a silly thing like "the truth" get in the way of a good gag? )

On a less frivolous note, we bid adieu to the lovely Kelsey (the grey dog in the lower right corner of that picture) last night.  It's a sad time around Casa di Subdivided these days.  She was a lovely pet, and the three years she spent with us were a delight.  The good news is that we think we've found her a great new home.  She'll have somebody around the house all day, which she didn't have with us -- and she has a new border collie pal to play with. 

We may have found a taker for Smithers, as well.  We met with a nice couple on Sunday, and I'm sold on them -- if they call us back and say they want him, then we'll be saying goodbye again shortly.

Sad.  Really, really sad.  But the boy's allergies are getting worse, and it had to be done.  At least if we find them good homes we can take some comfort in that.

The Dogs

Short and sweet today, people, because I don't have the heart to say much more than the following...

Sadly, we have to find new homes for the dogs.  Adam is allergic to them, and while we could conceivably medicate him, we just don't think that that's the right thing to do to a three-year-old.

I thought we had a taker for Smithers, but that fell through.  I'm hoping against hope that somebody local will take them -- it'd break my heart to never see them again.

So, if you think you might have a place in your home and your heart for one or two loveable yet idiosyncratic mutts, please give me a holler and we can discuss further.  I should point out that while they do tolerate each other, there is by no means a love connection between the two, so separate ownership is certainly an option.  Also, I think it's fair to say that any prospective owner will be subject to a bit of anal-retentive scrutiny from yours truly. 

What Is the Color, When Black is Burned?

I always figured that one of my strengths as a parent would come forth when the kids hit the "why" stage.  You parents know what I'm talking about.  For Adam, the "why" stage hit almost simultaneously with his third birthday.

All of a sudden, EVERYTHING is "why, why, why?"

I tend to know a little bit about a wide range of stuff.  I rarely boast -- trust me when I tell you there's not much to boast about -- but one thing I can say with all honesty is that you want me on your team for Trivial Pursuit.

So I figured I'd be pretty good at answering the "why's?".

What nobody tells you, though, is that you're going to get bombarded with questions to which there is no logical answer.

Here are a few recent examples:

• "Where is the Science Center." 
  "It's downtown -- that way." 
  "Why is the Science Center that way?" 
  Because that's where they built it. 
  "Why did they build it there?"
  "Because that's where they had the land to build it."
  "Why did they have the land?"
  Hey, listen to this song on the radio!
• What time is it?
  It's 10 o'clock.
  Why is it 10 o'clock?
  Because...ummm...you see, the prime meridian...Greenwich Mean Time...umm...you wanna go to the Science Center?

I recognize the importance of this stage in Adam's life.  He'll probably never again be this intellectually curious.  But man, kid, could you ask some questions about the 1960 World Series, or the history of Captain America's sidekicks, or something -- anything -- with a concrete answer?

Meanwhile, there may have been a breakthrough on the issue of Smithers' most annoying trait -- of which there are many.

The dog has been peeing in the house again for a while now. Almost daily. We took him to the vet, who did some tests for kidney problems, bladder infections, etc – and nothing.

We began giving him just a teeny tiny bit of water before we left in the morning, instead of his usual one full bowl – and still nothing, except for a nice big blob of dog pee in the house nearly every day, which leaked down through the floor and onto some heating ductwork in a place that was impossible to reach, but made its presence known every time the furnace kicked on.

We couldn’t figure out how he was peeing, since he had had relatively no water since 8 pm the previous night, and I take him out at least twice before bed, and two or three times every morning before we leave.

Two nights ago I made a discovery. Our new-ish hot water heater has a little spout on the side for drainage. I don’t know why it’s there, but apparently it’s supposed to spew out some water every now and then. I had put a little pink tub there to collect the water. It’s WAY back in a corner, behind a bunch of shelves, and nearly impossible to get to.

Except, apparently, for Smithers. It occurred to me that I hadn’t had to empty the thing in a while. This occurred to me shortly after I saw the hound nose his way back into that teeny, crowded little corner -- obviously on a quest.

So basically, the dog has been drinking water to his heart's content, every day.  And trust me when I tell you that he drinks a lot.  Usually 4 or 5 bowls every night when we get home from work. 

So I've blocked off the catch-basin, and will try to empty it on a daily basis.  We'll see what that does.

Dogs Gone Wild

Apparently, this is the sort of thing that goes on in our house when I'm out of town.  Not the highest quality video ever, but the audio is the key here anyway.  Enjoy:

Duuuuuude

We've had some, shall we say, bladder control problems with the hound lately.

Last week, we took him to the vet -- who wanted to do a blood draw, to check him for diabetes.  No go, though.  He may seem like a gentle, loving yet smelly beast -- but get his back up against the wall, and Smithers turns into the hound from hell, with the snarling, and the biting, and the chunks of flesh flying out of my hand and nnnHEYY, it hurts me....

So we had to take him back again this week.  This time, though, he was thoroughly dosed with a couple of doggie downers.  And even then, he was pretty tough to deal with.

But on the plus side, it did result in THIS -- a picture of one totally stoned dog.  As I type, he's upstairs listening to "Dark Side of the Moon" over and over and over again.

Friday Dog Blog

Aww yeah...

The hound's gettin' older.  Check out how he looks here, at age six, verses the picture at upper right.  I think he was about a year-and-a-half in that other picture.

Still as feisty and smelly as ever, you'll be glad to know.

And the Kelsinator -- well, she's just a good doggie.

Stairway to Smithers

Dog "experts" -- such as they are -- will tell you not to anthropomorphize your pet too much.  Dogs, they say, live on a much more base level than humans, seeking comfort and food and shelter and satisfaction of their most primal instincts.

These experts will tell you that a dog will NEVER undertake a behavior strictly out of spite, or revenge.  No, the canine professional will tell you that basically your dog wants to find and understand its place in the pack, and then will do its best to please the "top dog" -- which is you.

And all this is true, I suppose.  We HAVE a dog like that.  Kelsey.  Our mutt, our German shepherd - Norwegian elkhound mix.  Now THAT's a dog right out of the textbooks, living primarily to please us.  (Although with her guard-dog heritage, her instinctual definition of "please" isn't always what we have in mind -- in particular with reference to her love of barking at every human, dog, squirrel, or leaf that passes her window.)

But to all those doggie experts out there....I give you Smithers.

What you're looking at there is the scene that greets us every time we come home with an armful of kids, or groceries, or basically anything cumbersome.  The dog parks himself on the stairs -- sideways -- and basically WILL NOT MOVE, at least until you get upstairs and begin unpacking the groceries.  That's 70 pounds of basset hound, people, and believe me when I tell you that these stubborn, low-to-the-ground beasts are tough to move when they don't want to be moved.

This, my friends, is a special needs dog.  A "character," I call him most of the time.  Julie prefers "pain in the ass," and she certainly has a point there.  The dog knows how to get under your skin.  It's the way that he knows how to shrug his shoulders at just the right point on the side steps, thereby jerking his collar over his head -- and the look that he and I share at that moment, because we both know the chase is on.  (Fortunately, the chase usually only lasts as far as the back porch of the people across the street, but still.)

Yup.  Pain in the ass is probably the right word for him.  But he's a pretty good pooch, nonetheless.

Doggone Tired

Whew -- what a fortnight it's been.

Strep throat...chickenpox scare...doctors and nurses in full "Outbreak"-style protective gear...new baby...teensy weensy little ol' heart attack...first child on the doorstep of the terrible two's...

Needless to say, all of us here at Le Maison de la Subdivided are exhausted.  I'm going to take a week off from blogging to recharge the old batteries a bit.

Subdivided We Stand returns on Monday, May 9.  I should have lots of new bambino pictures to post by then -- and I suppose I should post the details of my little heart incident at some point, too.  In particular, I want to share the story of how I nearly had a second one right there on the cath lab table when one of the technicians there lectured me on how Clinton's blowjob was a far more serious moral shortcoming than Chimpy McFlightSuit's little white lies about Iraq.  Apparently getting a hummer trumps 1,500+ dead Americans and counting. 

Anyhoo, I'll be back in a week.  In the meantime, enjoy this picture of Smithers as a puppy:

Doggies

In lieu of actual content, please enjoy this photo of our mutts.

That's the basement, which is currently being (slowly) redeveloped into a family room.  In the background, you can sort of see the patio that was last fall's project.  Provided you can see past the dog-snot-encrusted sliding doors, that is.