Captain's Chronicles

Far more engaging than Sarah Conner is Emma the 'Roid and I'm sure the canine chronicles will be at least as amusing.

Emma 'Roid came into the house having been purchased from a NH lady who thought she was a breeder.  

The first time a vet looked at her, his comment was that she certainly had those "cock-a-poo knees."  Seems that one of the problems with the breed is a tendency for the rear legs to be weak and the knees all akimbo.  This certainly explains why 'Roid has to get a two-room running start to get up on one of the beds!!

She has dealt with that humiliation as well as the mental agony caused by an insensitive groomer who tried to take a pirate captain and make it too cute:

Yet through all the trials and tribulations, Emma perseveres.  Her accomplishments include supporting piracy around the globe with that fierce crew of Pirate Dogs whom she commands.  Note the looks of absolute intensity she projects from the bridge.

This is a dog who has guided her crew through the transformation from denizens of the canine seas to explorers of the galaxies, directing the transformation of the CPS Nargle into the CSS Nargle.  From her perch on the captain's chair she can survey the unfolding of space before her ship.

Truly, an inspiring figure in the canine pantheon and, despite all her accomplishments, still capable of begging for bone turks and looking as adorable as she can.........

All you Portuguese Water Dogs, eat your hearts out!!!!!!!!!!!!  All you Klingon Kats, be afraid!!!!!

The Newbie and the Problem

My wife can't help herself.  If she goes near the oxymoronic city animal kill shelter, she adds to our home's pet population.  Last week there was a lynx-point Siamese cat there.  Well, now we have more cats than dogs with the addition of GracieGrizelda.

Griz was spayed this week and hasn't emerged from under the bed since her homecoming.  Prior to the procedure, she seemed to be outgoing and friendly but now her personality is a question mark.  Will she become isolated and a virulent Klingon or revert to the nice disposition she previously exhibited?  

Of course, a rescue animal is the preferred way to add to our pet population.  But the crew of the Nargle are a little upset that the latest addition is a Klingon Kat!!!!  Stay tuned for the continuing episodes of the Space Pirate Dogs and the Klingon Kats in their quest for meaning as they travel in the space time continuum........

And then there's the concerns about Leny.  Ever since her bout with seizures, she has been a bit more mellow.  A regimen of Valium and phenobarbital over the last few weeks have had an observable effect on the poor beast-----

Yes, Leny has a monkey on her back!!!!!!!!!!!  Hopefully she will return to her ebullient self after the effects of the prescriptions run their course.  Then let the feline contingent beware---no more scenes like this:

ARMAGEDDON??????

William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

THE SECOND COMING

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

This poem has been all over my life the last week or so. It was referenced in Paul Krugman's Return of Depression Economics. It was quoted in the film Nixon by Oliver Stone that I watched this past weekend. It was quoted by A.J. in the last episode of The Sopranos. What eternal portent inspired this poet? What vision had he?

Maybe it was the vision of the giant Boeing 747 flying at low altitude over lower Manhattan, conjuring up images of that fall day almost eight years ago. Two F-18 fighters appear to be in pursuit. The craft buzzes the Statue of Liberty. It banks and the sunlight reflects off of the Seal of the President of the United States. Air Force One, buzzing Manhattan, pursued by fighters. OH MY GOD. Then, the comment--"OOPS!"

Or was it the pontiff's visit to L'Aquila three WEEKS after the earthquake that leveled the town. People are still living in tents. The emergency is over says the government. Pope Benedict offered them his prayers and hope for their new lives. I bet the Person for whom he toils on Earth would have at least fed them and offered some shelter, some REAL comfort. Or maybe the Pope and Holy Mother Church have had their investments trashed like the rest of us? Or maybe he's German and this was Italy? (By the way, this writer is half-German and half-Italian so this isn't meant as a racial slur as much as a political one.)

After almost 30 years of being a hawk---Viet-Nam and Iraq--and a firm strident voice for the rule of law, Arlen Specter has left the Republican Party and joined the Democrats. Really doesn't matter if you believe this was due to his principles or his political ambition. It just illustrates how far the G O P is in thrall to the radical right. From continuing to espouse policies that have nearly destroyed our economy to the defense of torture, the Republicans increasingly marginalize themselves, forsaking the very Constitution and multi-party system they claim to hold so dear.

So the Taliban Resurgent march towards Islamabad in Pakistan---and its sixty or so nukes might fall into terrorist hands while we sit mired still in Iraq. Thanks, W, Condi, Cheney, and Rummy. Wanna go surfing---we'll hold you down on the board and see how YOU like the feel of drowning.

Finally there's the swine flu. It is an amalgam of human, poultry, and swine virus, all mutated together into a new "super" bug. Could this be the plague foretold in the Apocalypse, aka, the Book of Revelation? Did W. B. Yeats foresee this week??? Looks like his Beast has stopped slouching and broken into a trot.

Do you wonder why the Pirate Dogs have converted their beloved Nargle into a starship and the Klingon Kats have transformed their favorite perch into a Klingon Bird of Prey? They might be smarter than we humans........

Testing

Today is William Shakespeare's 445th birthday.  Wonder if anything any of us have written lately will stand that test of time????????  "Soft, what light from yonder window breaks....Aaah, it is my lady, it is my love...."---Do I really have to say what play that's from??????  For those of you who must look---last sentence.

But of far greater import to life here-------

The Captain did it---the phasers have been installed on the  Nargle.  And they work!!!!!

The "Kirk of Cock-a-Poos" test-fired them at Andromeclee the Klingon cat, at minimal power of course, and lo and behold---

from

to

Good job, Space-Pirate Dogs!!!!!!!!!

Romeo and Juliet  The prelude to the balcony scene, foo!!!!!!!!!

Happy Halloween

Today I saw a sign on a church advertising a "Festival of Lights" for the evening of October 31. I'm sure my conception of this is very different from theirs. My ideal would be all these kids dressed in costumes carrying flashlights or lit up pumpkins throughout the neighborhood where all the windows have illuminated Jack-o-Lanterns or glow-in-the-dark black cats or witches...... cackle cackle.... boil and bubble, toil and trouble..... wingardium leviosa. Please can I have some extra candy????

But this is a special time of year for the denizens of the CPS Nargle. Obviously they can't have chocolate and too much sugar is worse for their teeth than for the average kid. But they get excited none the less.

Captain 'Roid has been plotting in the Nargle about vengeance on the cats. Her musings are interrupted whenever anyone goes into the kitchen, however. The Captain is the original chow hound. You can see from her face she just was giving orders ending in "ARRRRGH". Just look at that scowl!!!! Lord help whichever cat she has decided to take action against.

Now First Mate Leny has just returned from her patrol of the perimeter of the yard. Her primary duty is to bark and hassle any travelers in the alley behind the house. She also keeps a wary eye out for any stray cats who happen by. Her favorite prey is Skippy-Kee who loves to tease and run. But have you ever seen a cuter pirate dog?

Lookout Weetzie keeps both eyes peeled for trouble, especially in the form of joggers or walkers in front of the house. Her assignment is to nag the First Mate until the latter goes to the window and acts ferociously enough to deter any passers-by. Even though Weet's right eye doesn't look all that clear in the picture, she doesn't miss a trick---or treat.

After all, isn't that what this holiday is all about?????????? So be generous, especially if these three come to your door:

Happy Halloween from the Pirate Dogs. Remember, they love you and a little treat goes a long way----Trust me, you don't want their "TRICKS."

Return of the Lost

So after 12 days adrift, Skippy is home. As best as I can reconstruct the story from her yowlings, after the Pirate Dogs had made her walk the plank she was able to find refuge in a neighboring tree across the alley. Since the pirates maintained control of the yard, she decided to bide her time and attempt to return later, under cover of darkness.

But her plans were foiled by the emergence of AndromeClee, the shadowy nemesis who has haunted Skip's life since her arrival. With Skip gone, AndromeClee began to enjoy her freedom. She made a grand entrance onto the stage of outdoor life, sunning herself, stalking the grackles who sang their siren songs from the trees and rooftops whenever a feathered one ventured onto terra firma. So rather than endure a confrontation with her enemy, this high energy newly freed spirit, Skip waited in the alley and bided her time.

Came the night and the new dangers it presented. People in the alley, emptying lawn mower bags and dumping garbage. Her own yard unwelcoming, SkippyKee looked for alternative shelter. She knew that there were neighbors who had felines and sometimes left food out for them. She had sampled these victuals on her other forays about the neighborhood. So she scaled a fence across the alley in search of sustenance. Instead she found a furious terrier objecting to her presence. Barely escaping by scrambling up a woodpile near a metal fence, she found herself in a yard with dishes of cat food and water free and welcoming. She helped herself to the feast. Bushes throughout the yard provided shelter from the overwhelming sun of the high plains. She dozed and lost track of the fleeting minutes and hours.

Waking in the darkness, she decided to return home. But the metal fence had no surfaces where she could gain purchase with her nails. There were no trees near the edifice to assist her. She was trapped in someone else's fortress! Days passed without any opportunity to escape. A human had at one point startled her but Skip was unable to get through the gate before it slammed shut. Then, a fateful evening---hiding in the bushes, Skip tried to settle down. But her comfort was shattered by the pelting of water on the foliage. Terrified, she bolted for an open door. Unfortunately, it was a garage. The human closed the door, trapping her amid the spoils of years of human acquisition. Fortunately, the human had seen the posters for the lost cat and called the number. After some negotiation to make the newcomers prove their identity, SkippyKee entered the carrier, comforted and made confident by its familiar odors. And she was carried home.

Her first interaction with those who had made her walk the plank and embark on such misadventures was chasing and pummeling. Three Pirate Dogs pursuing a small cat down the corridor, threatening her should she tell the story. This was followed by some whimpering and whining as the claws on those double paws made contact with various body parts of those canines more efficiently and with far greater destructive power than Errol Flynn at his most swashbuckley best. As for AndromeClee, her moment in the sun is gone---she is back under the bed, hoping the Pirate Dogs succeed with her next plan..................

MISSING

Skippy Kee is missing. She never came home Thursday. Being good parents, we posted her picture and info on community sites, hung pictures and contact info on all the nearby dumpsters, and notified the local animal control people and veterinarians.

Then it hit me. I was grilling a couple of burgers on the deck when I espied the Pirate Dogs lurking by the back gate. A closer inspection revealed a long and narrow board concealed near where it could be perched on the stockade fence and the storage shed--a PLANK!!!!! Shades of the "Black Pearl".

I immediately confronted the Captain of this crew. And in true pirate fashion she obfuscated and prevaricated, giving me no information whatesover--just growling, barking, and finally, silence with an innocent and coy expression on her face. But deep down, though it may never be proved, I know the truth. Witness the similarity of expression between the Captain of the Pirate Dogs on the left and Capt. Jack Sparrow on the right.



Can there be any doubt?????