My dog is cuter than your dog

I've received many well-wishing condolences since my post about Rug dying - more specifically, the joy of getting to kill your own dog. I appreciate them very much but thought that I should throw in a post about "Big Boo" so it doesn't seem like I am crying myself to sleep at night on my huge pillow (we'll see how many people get that reference).

Maggie is am 18 month old Olde English Bulldogge.

No, she isn't an English Bulldog and yes I can spell. Basically she is a taller healthier version of the English Bulldog. As for the title of the entry let's cut the crap - you know it's true. As I type this she is sleeping next to me suckling in her sleep. A 65 lb bulldogge suckling in it's sleep is just below bunnies sneezing and above baby deer on the list of the world's cutest things. Don't be too jealous, I said cuter not better. She is afraid of her own shadow and frequently mistakes my loft for a fire hydrant. Her taste in chew toys ranges from designer clothes to remote controls to walls. But she is my dog and I wouldn't prefer any other.

She is named Maggie after Margaret Thatcher but I soon realized that Maggie is the most common name of dog. Didn't see that one coming. So Bulldogge was gradually shortened to Boo. Not too macho, I know, but I didn't get my dog to look tough.

Strange animal in many respects. Having a face that looks like she was hit with a shovel makes her sound like an 80 year old man during his afternoon nap much of the time. Flatulence is something else she borrows from 80 yr old men. She rarely makes a sound (besides snoring), in fact I've never heard her yelp. I've seen her fall from the couch and crack her head on the coffee table yet not a squeak. Once hiking with me I noticed that she wasn't at my heels which was unusual. I turned to see her hanging from a 10 foot drop by her front legs. But she patiently clung waiting for me to come get her - not one sound. You can walk her up to a chicken coop or herd of kittens and she shows no interest. During a car ride she just sleeps on the floor.

Many people think she's retarded. It's not a bad theory. But she was the star pupil in her obedience class. She just doesn't care about chickens or cats or physical pain for that matter. She only cares about people. She enjoys the Discovery Channel - especially dog shows. Only one major allergy thankfully - the planet Earth. Every day is a battle against some rash or infection.

And again I wouldn't trade her for the world (although all reasonable offers will be considered). Here's a little wisdom for you: Never trust someone who doesn't like dogs. Think about it, a dog-hater is someone who finds no value in unconditional love and endless entertainment and instead sees only inconvenience and a cramp on their style. You have to have some wires crossed to think that way. Entering a relationship with someone who doesn't like dogs is knowing that it is more important that you provide convenience to the person than love as this is how they prioritize. They can fake it for a while but in the end their true self must come out. Maggie makes me laugh everyday. Put a price tag on that.

A Newfound Appreciation for Electricity

Phoenix has many things that people in other states do not realize. Running water, paved roads and cable Tv to name a few. One little gem I had not experienced is an ice storm. Educational I admit, but I could have died happy without ever having cracked open my car like an egg.

Last week was a joyous romp through the (God-forsaken, frigid) breadbasket of America. I'm not built for tundra having grown up in a sandbox as you might assume. Upon arriving in Oklahoma City Sunday I had the joy of chipping my rental car from a solid block of ice (picture above provided for illustration purposes only). Driving on ice reminded me of when I was 6 and I would get a running start and hit the kitchen linoleum wearing only socks to see how far I could slide. Unfortunately most of those memories end in tears - this one promised to end in higher insurance rates. I tobogganed my way down the highway until I was out of it and had a day and a half reprieve working south of the storm.

Tuesday I had to go north to Tulsa, or as I call it "The Heart of Darkness". The drive to Tulsa was just creepy. For those of you who haven't seen the after-effects of an ice storm I'll explain. Ice is much heavier than snow. Therefore many of the things it builds up on such as tress simply crumble under the strain. Entire groves of trees looked like a giant had stepped on them. Having confirmed that my hotel had electricity I picked my way past the convoys of service trucks heading into the city and made it to safety in one piece. As I stood on my balcony I wondered at what people without power were doing to stay warm. I thought perhaps the decent thing to do would be to offer to share my room with someone less fortunate - like the Oral Roberts cheerleading squad perhaps. How can they stay warm in those little skirts? My magnanimity was soon dashed and my heart lurched when I heard the tell-tale sounds of all electricity leaving the premises. Not good.

Sun going down and no place to sleep. Fortunately my hotel in Wichita did have electricity and was willing to let me come early. It was highway time. Driving in ice at night is not something I would recommend but at least when you can only see the highway in front of you you cannot see the frozen waste that surrounds you and it is oddly comforting. I drove like a 15 year old with a learners permit taking my first lesson with dad. At least for the first hour or so. I had already driven for several hours to get to Tulsa and my patience is not the stuff of legends. Eventually I was moving down the highway at a good clip. Not a lot to occupy your mind for hours on the highway with nothing to see but Jesus billboards. I couldn't help being struck by the fact that Jesus was the only Palestinian Jew I'd ever seen that looked like a Bee Gee. I think the point they were making was lost on me.

So 3 hours later I arrived in Wichita as the happiest (perhaps luckiest) man in the city. I honestly fought to keep the grin off my face. The girl checking me into the hotel eventually asked, "Ummm why are you smiling?"

"Because you have electricity and...and.....I'm just happy."

"We're glad you're happy sir (you creepy freak)"

Now in Wichita I found myself with 2 days to kill. Caught up on my beauty sleep and found myself bored so I left to explore. I made it two steps out the door of the hotel before finding myself in near splits for the first time in a loooonnnnggggg time. I was sort of impressed with myself actually. It's amazing how flexible you can be when you're trying to avoid breaking your ass on frozen concrete. The next 5 minutes was Ryan learning how one walks (strong term) on frozen concrete. It wouldn't have been so bad if not for some smart ass rabbit named Thumper mocking my lack of dexterity as he skated around me. "We'll see who's laughing when there's a fire asshole!" I made it down to a pond where I was accosted by 50 very hungry ducks. The guilt eventually got to me (I'm such a sucker) so I went to the store and learned that there is no duck food aisle. There are hot dog buns though. Advice for you would-be duck saviors out there - break the bread into crumbs BEFORE they know you have it. Especially if there are geese. If you don't feed them fast enough they will search for food in places that are uncomfortable to say the least.

Two bad movies and an oddly eclectic museum (ever seen a T-Rex skeleton and a Martina Navratilova autograph in the same place?) later I was on a plane home. A little bruised, a little smarter and a lot more appreciative of the little sand box I call home. I now posses the greatest gift a trip into the Midwest can give you: A little smile every time I write my mortgage check.