Pirate Dogs Bios #3: The First Mate

We met at the Stratham NHSPCA shelter. The celebrated Tan Dog, Saint Hannah, had been put down because of a recurring cancer and at that time, the Captain wasn't exhibiting the personality she later developed. So we joined the line on an autumnal Tuesday morning for the debut of the latest dogs entering the NH shelters from other states' kill centers. Since people in NH pay attention to and follow spay policies and recommendations, the state has a paucity of animals available for adoption and imports dogs from other states. The animals arrive on Thursday, spend a few days being examined and evaluated, and are made available for adoption on Tuesday of the following week. So we arrived right at the time of the shelter's opening, at the very front of the queue. ( If you are in the market for an animal who'd benefit from your love and attention, check them out http://www.nhspca.org/ )

We passed several dogs we'd seen previously and wished them well. Then at the back of the kennel there was a large cage. A black form ran to the very back of it. Too shy?? We almost passed by but then the creature rushed forward to the door of the cage, grasping a rubber ball in its jowls, talking to us intensely and pleadingly. It was more than we could stand---I spread my arms in front of the cage and sent my wife to get a leash so we could get the dog out of the kennel. The sign on the wall said "Ella."

Ella bounded out of the cage and was so appreciative at the attention. One wise policy the NHSPCA has is having the existing pet(s) meet the prospective adoptee to determine their ability to get along. The Captain and Ella hit it right off. Would that we could foresee how well.......

So we took Ella home. We quickly realized that "Ella" sounded too much like "Emma", the Captain's given name, so we renamed the newest addition after a couple of our favorite New Mexico locales--Ella was christened Magdalena Cochiti. Of course that's far too many syllables for a dog to comprehend, so we call her Leny (pronounced lane-y), a contraction of Magdalena.

Leny is a Sharprador, i.e., a Labrador Retreiver Shar-Pei cross. She's actually more of a Flop-ra-dor in behavior, using the Shar-Pei fighting tactic of suddenly lying down--flopping--- to get under her adversary. A strange mixture---mostly a Lab's black body with a face that has massive jowls and thanks to Shar-Peian wrinkles, Leny frequently sports a worried or concerned expression.

As previously noted, Leny was thought to blame for some destruction in our house and joined the Captain on the CPS Nargle. Leny has the propensity to skin problems that afflicts Shar-Peis. We'd had her less than a week when she barreled around the corner of the house, slipped, and impaled herself on a cut-back rose bush. This required her to be confined in a lampshade for several days

and the wounds flushed with betadine. What a way to bond with your new puppy--lifing it into the bathtub, flushing her wound out, lifting her out of the bathtub, not cuddling her but rather all the while hoping to keep her away from your body so you don't stain your clothes with the solution......Wonder what Leny thought of it all?


She has fully recovered and is as sweet as she was in that cage in Stratham NH. Condemned to an Ohio kill shelter as an "unclaimed stray" she found her way to NH and now lives with her family and the Pirate Dogs in NM. Leny comes immediately when summoned and is never more than an arm's length away, waiting for a belly rub. "Unclaimed Stray"???? Please..........

Random Thoughts

So my brother from Washington state was here for a visit. He brought the western WA weather with him. It's been rainy and sorta cool the last week. Not at all what one would expect in New Mexico in August. So we'll blame my brother. Why not? Just to let you know how cool it was, my niece-in-law, stopping on their trip from Maine to California, commented on the weather. She expected it to be much warmer!!! And she's from Maine!!!! I think there's still snow on the ground there.

The chile harvest is in. I spent the requisite hour or so getting my chiles and having them roasted. I can relax for another year knowing that I have these freezer bags full and ready to go. Most of the fun is standing in the roasting line chatting with other shoppers and exchanging recipes. And when you get home, peel a chile, stuff some cheese in it, wrap it in a tortilla (preferably a fresh one from the local tortilleria) and microwave it.....culinary heaven.

I see politics as usual is firing up as the Olympics wind down. There was a piece tonite on BBC World News America about the Russian freeze of the Czech spring 40 years ago. The Democratic party convention starts Monday in Denver. I wonder what the cable and network news will have to say about the Democratic convention in Chicago in 1968. Remember Crosby and Nash---"Please come to Chicago....We can change the world."

I wonder if we did.............................And if so, for the better??

Pirate Dogs Bios #2: The Crow's Nest

The newest of the Pirate Dogs is the subject of this biography. We think Weetzie-Bat is a chihuazer, a cross betwen a schnauzer and a chihuahua. She is a rescue from the local kill center. Yes, we live in an area where dogs surrendered or captured and brought to the pound have a death sentence imposed on them. Weets had one day left. So my wife took pity and brought her home. I think her pound name was Rosie or something equally saccharine and unbecoming. We know she came from another town and first christened her "Melrose Mousie" but a friend commenting on the picture in her adoption notice made note of the ears that could likely be used for flying. That, and the dog's nasty disposition (small dog syndrome), brought to mind a young adult book with the title and heroine Weetzie-Bat. Thus was she named.

Weets, being the least in stature of the Pirate Dogs, became the look out for the crew. She perches on the back of furniture as if it were a crow's-nest high above the decks of the CPS Nargle.

Her primary raison d'etre seems to be barking and snarling at real or imaginary passers-by. God forbid someone on the tv rings a doorbell. That sets off the loudest cacophony of all! Of course, being the most diminutive canine buccaneer, Weets barks and nips at Leny to get her to threaten the perceived intruders. A true denizen of a crow's-nest!

Lately Weets has begun to channel my late mother-in-law. There was this hair-cut, sort of spiky and silver. And she sort of glowers at me when I playfully pull her tail (tail wedgies). She has been known to lie under the covers on the bed and growl at any contact with her person. So Weetzie-Bat and Weets-Elva are morphing together and who knows how this will affect the chain of command on the Nargle. Time will tell.

Pirate Dogs Bios #1--The Captain

Every crew needs a captain and the CPS (Canine Pirate Ship--what did you expect??) Nargle is no exception. As previously reported, the Captain of the Nargle is Emma Hermione Granger Watson 'Roid. (Obviously this blogger is somewhat influenced by the writings of J K Rowling and the movies based on her works.)

The 'Roid is the one Pirate Dog that is not a rescue from a shelter. She was purchased from a "home breeder" to be a pet and a transition upon the inevitable demise of Hannah, the famous/infamous Tan Dog we had for over a dozen years. Hannah gave Emma the name 'Roid because Hannah considered the new usurping puppy a royal pain in the derriere.

Emma purports to be a well behaved dog, as befits her cockapoo lineage. Only after Leny arrived did the true nature of the Pirate captain manifest itself. 'Roid is a sneak. She uses her compliant behavior to mask the evil doings of her mind, the sinister machinations of her brain. Knowing the larger, newer animal would be blamed for any household destruction, Emma-roid began her reign of terror. She chewed furniture, sheets, even the kitchen wallboard. It took her less than five minutes to destroy two fairly expensive retractable leashes by chewing the nylon lead just above the connecting link to the collar so the lead material simply retracted and could not be recovered or repaired. But this got her what she desired---The CPS Nargle!!!!

It was the acquisition of the crate that became a canine pirate ship that fostered the camraderie and bonding that turned three dogs into feared buccaneers. This gave them their ship and the opportunities for Captain 'Roid to formulate her stratagems and convey them to her crew. The latest escapade has already been chronicled on this blog--the foiled plan to eliminate Skippy-Kee http://piratedogspilgrims.blogspot.com/2008/05/missing.html. And of course it was the Pirate Dogs who inspired the 580 miles for a cheeseburger adventure http://piratedogspilgrims.blogspot.com/2008/05/driving-580-miles-for-burger.html.

And the mastermind of these exploits is the captian, Emma-roid!!!

Countdown

Well, it's about 100 days until we elect the successor to Dubya. But that's not really the countdown this post is about.
I have to admit that during the primary season I got caught up in Keith Olberman's program on MSNBC, Countdown. I thought it a refreshingly liberally biased take on the primaries and political reporting. I watch BBC America World News to get my facts so Keith was an intellectually affordable luxury. After the presumptive nominees were chosen the show lost some of its appeal. Some of the segments have become downright aggravating. The last segment with some VH-1 comic commenting on a political issue is getting repetitive and boring. This segment is neither news nor entertainment but rather a sop to the "low information voter" who, quite honestly, is not what I perceive to be the target audiece of Keith's show.
The final straw for me was the week after July 4 when Rachel Maddow subbed for Keith. The show reverted back to what had intrigued me during the primaries. A liberal take on issues and some reasonably intelligent commentary. And something was missing----The Worst Persons in the World segment. Rachel did not do this regular segment. And it vastly improved the show!!
I first saw Keith do this schtick on NBC's Sunday Football Night in America and found it amusing. But on Countdown, it has become tedious. Not that someone should not point out the follies and foibles of humanity, especially the dastardly actions of some citizens. But Bill O'Reilly and Rupert Murdoch really don't compare to Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe or Omar Al-Bashir of Sudan. And is FoxNews (FoxNoise to Keith) really as bad as the Jangaweed in Darfur?
So I guess I'll keep up with BBC and increase the number of DVDs I get from Netflix to fill the hour left in my tv watching formerly occupied by Keith. That is, unless MSNBC brings in Rachel or gets Keith to change his format. Although Olberman may appropriate Edward R. Murrow's sign-off, there's no comparison between the quality of their "newscasts." "Good Night and Good Luck!"

Raise the Fuel Taxes

Gas prices continue to go up---over $4.08 a gallon as I write this. And the monthly payments on pickups and SUVs keep decreasing---no interest for 60 months, $6,000 rebates, "employee pricing".......Anybody else out there think this is a disconnect? And note the small print on these adds---none of the "deals" apply to hybrids!!!! The fuel efficient varieties are full boat, baby!!!!
Our government says we can alleviate gas prices by drilling in places like the Arctic Wildlife Refuge. But the current administration doesn't exactly deserve kudos or respect in terms of their record on the environment or climate change. Let's face it, the "senior administrators" are ex-oil men. The candidates recommend gas tax holidays or windfall taxes on big oil.
How about something that might work? Let's eliminate the taxes on diesel. This will give truckers a break and help stabilize the costs of food and other goods that depend on trucking to get to America's consumers. We can increase the gas tax on regular fuel to offset this revenue loss and also to subsidize the cost of truly fuel efficient and alternative fuel technologies.
Check out the Honda website http://automobiles.honda.com/fcx-clarity/frequently-asked-questions/. That fuel cell car in the tv ads is available in a few counties in Southern California at a lease cost of $600.00 a month. That's more than the lease on a Hummer, a Mercedes S class, or a Cadillac STS!!!! We should be begging to lease the fuel cell car all over the country and getting the infrastructure built to support fuel cell technology. But the vast majority of Americans can't afford that kind of lease price. One would think GM, Ford, or Chrysler could build a fuel cell car that might fit an average family's budget if some of the development costs were subsidized.
According to Jonathan Rauch's article in the July/August Atlantic(http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200807/general-motors), the Chevy Volt will sell for "maybe north of $35,000." But an F-150 Ford or a Chevy Silverado at 10mpg can be had for about $20,000!! If we really are serious about conserving fossil fuels and getting their prices back in line, we need the Volt to sell for the same price as a Malibu.
So let's bite the short-term bullet and pay an inceased gas tax which can be used by car companies to develop alternative fuel vehicles without passing the high development costs on to consumers and keeping the sticker prices of these vehicles in line with what the average family can afford. The other benefit of this would be to help make American companies competitive and hopefully increase job opportunities in the automotive sector, which has been among the hardest hit in the economy. Or maybe America isn't as good as our competitors in this segment of the global economy?

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..................