A Better Idea for West Palm Beach

Yeah, I've been lax.  Almost 3 years since the last post.

Anyway, new job, new office.  My window faces Flagler Drive, overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway in West Palm Beach.  Pretty cool.  Except, the City of West Palm Beach seems to think Flagler Drive is not a thoroughfare.  Instead, the City thinks it is a party ground.  For the last week and through May 6 it is the home of "SunFest."  All day long, through conference calls, meetings and trying to read legalese, sound checks at the sound stage just outside my office window.  Loud sound checks.  No song, just parts of songs.  Not good.

I have a better idea, City of West Palm Beach.  Move SunFest to the South Florida Fairgrounds.  Ditto all those other waterfront festivities.  Let me drive on Flagler Drive.

Wrong dog for the top dog

I don't want to burst anyone's bubble, but the country's top dog made a mistake picking the "First Dog." Portuguese Water Dogs are darling as puppies, but they grow to 60-80 pounds. That makes them more than a handful, especially for little girls. It also means the consumption, processing and removal of substantial quantities of kibbles. More importantly, unless the dog is socialized and trained to accept strangers, the tendency of the breed is to be very protective of the family it is a part of. It would be sad to have Bo take out a foreign dignitary for having the audacity to come too close to Barry, Michelle or the kids.

One less dog

Well, the time finally came.  The old canine lost control of the bladder entirely.  Combined with the inability to stand on the hind legs this led to some extremely unpleasant situations.   The old guy would suddenly notice that he was laying in a warm, pungent puddle and would look up in bewilderment.  He actually would try to clean it up, but that was disgusting.  He would then try to drag his motionless back side away from the puddle and create a wide, pale yellow paint brush stroke across the floor.  Last Thursday morning he could not drag himself from his bed in the family room to the kitchen to get his "medicine," wrapped in a slice of deli ham.  He looked so forlorn and miserable.  

He seemed very accepting when I picked him up after breakfast and a walk on his wheelchair and carried him to the car.  He reclined contentedly in the back seat on the ride.  He did not resist when I lifted him from the car and carried him in to the vet's office.  He calmly accepted his position on the vet's table.  Even though I was crying like a child, the look on his face as I gave him his final back rubs seemed to be consoling, and even thankful.

It's easier to keep the place clean now, but something seems to be missing.  I keep wondering where his old water bowl is, and who left that door open to the carpeted living room.  I keep worrying that if I leave the door open too long something will run out that door and get in trouble.  But he should not be thirsty any more.  No need to worry about him spoiling the carpet.  He hadn't scampered out the door in a long time, but he certainly won't now.  I still cry when I think about that last day.  It was the right thing to do.  Knowing that doesn't seem to help.  I just hope that someone has the courage to do the same for me when I wake up in a puddle of my own making.

Two old dogs

Just me and the dog. Not a great conversationalist. Not good at much anything but eating. Can barely move, since the back two legs only work some of the time. Today he has three times failed to make it to his "bathroom" after years of being pretty much in control of that situation. I am not a happy camper.

The dog seems to be going downhill fast. But he is not quitting. He still barks for dinner and treats. He still tries to get away when I try to pick him up. No longer chases after the squirrels and other dogs. But if he sees them, he will bark at them.

He is not my friend. He never brought me my slippers or newspaper. This has probably been caused at least in part by the fact that I have no slippers and the papers we get are bigger than the dog, but I don't see that as an excuse. His devotion to me is clearly the result of my slovenly eating habits and my over-generosity with the Scoobie Snacks.

It sounds crass, but I am coming to the belief that he needs to go to "the farm."

40th High School Reunion

My 40th high school reunion is this summer.  I have been heavily involved in getting it organized.  I find it strange that more of my classmates are not excited about the prospect.  For many of us, this could be the last chance we get to see each other. 

Some of us apparently never really like high school (I didn't), and never liked our classmates (with few exceptions, I thought that was me, too).  I learned differently at the 25th and 38th reunions.  There were people at each that I never knew I liked, and others that I definitely never thought liked me.   Turns out I was wrong.  That was definitely cool. 

Let there be no mistake.  I left that town thirty some years ago because I didn't really "fit."  The pond was just too small, and somehow I felt like a different sort of fish than what makes that pond a home.  I am perfectly happy 1400 miles away.  I will be content never to return after this one last party.  But this will be a nice closure.  I hope I don't get all misty.

On second thought, who cares?

Independence Day

I really can't remember the last time that Independence Day fell exactly in the middle of a week.  Very odd.  

Anyway, independence is an odd thing, too.  It sounds like it involves total freedom and absence of responsibility.  It can, but if it does, it soon degenerates to chaos.  Not really "independence," since everyone then spends all their time avoiding being trampled by a mob.  The independence that this day celebrates is more like the independence to be responsible and disciplined on your own, without following the commands of someone else.  I haven't received a handwritten illuminated scroll yet, buy I think my son is declaring that sort of independence these days.  That's cool, but disturbing, too.  I can finally commiserate with King George.  Why don't my children want ME to make their decisions for them?

Ah, well, maybe there will be fireworks tonight.  I like fireworks.

Hello World!

That's what all we computer literate types write when we start off a new program.  So, apparently, that is what I have just done.  I am not sure I have anything to say, or even to ruminate about.  But at least I can now that this blog is here.

Cya later, World!