Memoirs of a Geezer!
Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth
to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!
This Episode: Reflections on Our Love for Doggies... and Some New Year
Revulsions... That is, Resolutions!
Sometimes you just have to forgive someone who has reached Geezer Age for absurd mixtures of themes, metaphors and cupcake batter. I’d like to share some thoughts about our love affair with dogs, or doggies as I prefer (I have grandchildren!). And I have a few resolutions I’d like to make public, or semi-private if you’ve already stopped reading this nonsense.
To begin...
1.) I will not bludgeon random individuals during nocturnal wanderings!
2.) I will treat doggies with reverence and respect... I love doggies!
During my robust middle age, not quite a geezer but moving in that direction, we inherited a
dog named Snickers. We always called her “Nicky.” (I think that’s how we spelled it... a female spelling should be Nickie, I suppose... she was a female doggie.) A wondrous creature, she bit our lawyer (never a recommendable thing!), me (when I was jogging dressed in outrageously silly winter weather attire -- striped leg warmers, welder’s goggles, a Russian hat with ear flaps, Packer-monogrammed mittens...), a member of the clergy, tires, trees, infrastructure... She barked at everything, including insects, large dogs, the UPS man, rodents -- both of the arboreal and sewer-dwelling variety -- inanimate things, reptiles, flying objects...
Frequently, especially in advanced age, she’d hear noises, real and imaginary (a doorbell?), race
madly down the staircase, tumble and slide most of the way, and then bark truculently at a closet door upon reaching the landing. Magnificent animal. We loved her. In her final years, she erupted frequently from both major orifices. We were certain she’d give us one final and massive explosion of emesis and fecal matter. She didn’t. Nicky lived 15 years. She’s buried in Rob and Sue’s orchard, near or under a plum tree. There’s no marker, but we know where...
3.) I shall not eat pizza pie more than once each year! (To be honest, I only eat pizza on December 24th. It’s a tradition. So this isn’t really much of a hardship!)
4.) I resolve to tell my wife, "I Love You!" with greater frequency and sincerity!... Children and grandchildren too!
5.) I shall be kind to all living creatures... most of the time (excepting rude people and those who mistreat animals, human and otherwise)!
Dakota was next, a large greyhound. (I was at the time much closer to actual geezerhood... or there, maybe?!!) Our daughter, Bethie, decided we needed another canine companion (Alie was away at school, I believe!). We motored off to the nearby Humane Animal Welfare Society location. We interviewed a number of doggies. A mostly white creature -- with one enormous and several other black spots -- snuggled in next to Bethie as we three were seated in the interview room. That was that. “I’ll take great care of her,” said Bethie. “I’ll walk and feed her faithfully.” A week later she was enrolled at UW-M and living in a lower flat on Milwaukee’s east side.
We took Dakota -- now re-dubbed “Kody” for evermore -- to a doggie training class. I was trained. She was not. The dog had some fine qualities. She had a way of telegraphing her more elaborate call of nature. Because of that, we had the time to roll up a plastic, eared shopping sack and place it under her rear quarters, into which and without apparent objection she would deposit her (uh... How shall I put it?...) deposit!
On one occasion in which we were engaged as described above, a troop of “Itty Bitty” soccer
players and their coach were marching along smartly, sort of parallel to our location. The coach stopped her tiny team, pointed and announced in gleeful surprise, “Look, girls, that doggie is going potty directly into a sack. Isn’t that marvelous?! Isn’t that doggie beautifully trained?!...” I wanted to say, but didn’t, “See here, you silly soccer-coaching bubblehead, the dog isn’t trained, I’m trained!!” (But wait! Who was really being a bubblehead...?)
Kody outlived all expectations for greyhound longevity, and died at age 13. Well before that sad time, however, she had one extravagant adventure up her doggie sweater sleeve. We were having our sinking front porch re-built with proper concrete footings, etc. The temporary door was a make-shift affair. My wife, Sweetheart, and I were embarking upon a walkies (again, grandchildren!) with our niece and her family. Kody wanted to come along. She clawed at the door furiously until it opened, raced after us, got to the middle of a busy adjacent street and was hit broadside by a four-door pickup truck. The driver was in tears as he, and we, gazed upon the panting, badly injured doggie, her stomach area filling with blood and fluid. A trip to doggie emergency, several "panicked" phone calls from said doggie emergency hospital staff proclaiming Kody
a “former doggie” if we didn’t agree to more and more curative measures. Lots of anxiety and $3000.00 later, she came home. Sweetheart hand-fed her, Kody, that is, cottage cheese and scrambled eggs until she, Kody, was fully recovered and could nibble her kibbles on her own from a standing position!
The dog was voracious. She ate or chewed everything, including tin cans, windowsills, our dinner, sidewalk refuse, fax paper... I had to contact suppliers and clients to ask them to re-transmit. "Why?" they’d ask. I couldn’t bring myself to give them the real answer. I felt silly, like a kid conjuring a ridiculous scenario to a teacher. You know... that classic if inane excuse?!! A vet suggested, "Try tabasco sauce." May as well have been honey on toast; she loved fax'es with tabasco! Kody once ate an entire cheese cake, forcing poor Sweetheart to
have to bake another, promised for a potluck affair.
6.) I shall not strangle doggies who eat my favorite dessert!
7.) I'm not giving up volleyball... I don't care what anyone says! Even though my knees and shoulders sound like a chuck-a-luck game!
8.) I shall resolve to chew my food at least 25 times like my mother said... or like someone’s mother said!(?)
9.) I’m giving up gum, and will encourage my nearest and dearest to do likewise! [To be truthful, I don’t chew gum. I dislike gum, and the slurpy, popping noises it makes in my sensitive little ears when others are chewing crazily within just a few inches of my precious earsies! (Grandchildren, again!) ]
10.) I will stop loitering in the incontinence products aisle at Walgreens... People are beginning to flirt shamelessly... making lurid remarks!
11.) And see here, I'm not giving up coffee! Tobacco? Alright... no more tobacco!!... or gin!
12.) I refuse to give up blogging... I feel I must, from time to time, record silly, ridiculous thoughts for posterity, and my own amusement, if for no one else's!
13. I'll see if Leonard will give me permission to use his name in the mystery story I'm writing... also the part about being pelted with lemons...!!
We no longer have doggies of our own, but we do doggie sit for our daughter’s “Bodie” and for our friends‘ “Ruby” and, previously, for our niece’s “Bella” who, sadly, is no longer with us.
Ruby is a coon hound with a commanding voice, a sort of howling that likely carries to the next county. On one occasion, we took her walkies in the neighborhood. Upon hearing a scratching noise emanating from a green refuse container, we reconnoitered and found a raccoon trapped inside the deep, plastic and slippery bin. We tipped the container to enable the raccoon to escape. As said bandit-eyed critter ambled across the road, Ruby spied and howled menacingly at squirrels, rabbits, passers-by, an owl, other dogs, shrubbery, cars, a plumber in a truck... Either she never noticed the raccoon, or perhaps she forgot her specific nomenclature! (I sometimes forget things, too, of course, and I’m allegedly a sentient being!)
Well, I suppose there’s a point to all this... isn’t there? I mean, doggies are extraordinary creatures. Best friends for life, unconditional love, delightful companions. We loved and miss our own Nicky and Kody, but we’re privileged to have others in our lives, occasional visitors and house guests, including -- lest we forget to acknowledge him! -- Geo, a gorgeous Bernese Mountain dog who lives with Jeff, and occasionally visits his “grandmom” and our dear friend who lives upstairs, at which time we’re pleased to welcome Geo into our home. With that, one more...
14.) Be it resolved that, at our ages and based on past experiences and loss, we likely won’t adopt another doggie for permanent residency, but we’ll always stop to greet those we meet on the street, and we’ll welcome visiting DOGnitaries into our home and into our lives, with great and genuine pleasure!
(Special Note of Gratitude and Attribution: The perpetrator of this posting offers special thanks to our children, Alie and Bethie, and dear friends -- the latter including, of course, Rob and Sue, Susie and others -- who have encouraged our knowledge and love of doggies, the canine creatures kingdom in general. Our lives are enriched as a result of the dogs we've lived with and known. Thank You!)
Revulsions... That is, Resolutions!
Sometimes you just have to forgive someone who has reached Geezer Age for absurd mixtures of themes, metaphors and cupcake batter. I’d like to share some thoughts about our love affair with dogs, or doggies as I prefer (I have grandchildren!). And I have a few resolutions I’d like to make public, or semi-private if you’ve already stopped reading this nonsense.
To begin...
1.) I will not bludgeon random individuals during nocturnal wanderings!
2.) I will treat doggies with reverence and respect... I love doggies!
 |
| Don't know what she had against mail and delivery trucks. We quite enjoy receiving packages, and mail too... or some of it! |
During my robust middle age, not quite a geezer but moving in that direction, we inherited a
 |
| Nicky was a "CockaPoo." I often told people she was a "CockaPeekaYorkie- BullaSheetzuPoo. She wasn't, but I knew one! (Didn't I??) |
Frequently, especially in advanced age, she’d hear noises, real and imaginary (a doorbell?), race
 |
| My editors told me to place an image of a plum tree here... for reference! |
3.) I shall not eat pizza pie more than once each year! (To be honest, I only eat pizza on December 24th. It’s a tradition. So this isn’t really much of a hardship!)
4.) I resolve to tell my wife, "I Love You!" with greater frequency and sincerity!... Children and grandchildren too!
5.) I shall be kind to all living creatures... most of the time (excepting rude people and those who mistreat animals, human and otherwise)!
 |
| That's our daughter, Alie, with Kody, and that's also Kody in the inset, upper left (in front of our house)! |
Dakota was next, a large greyhound. (I was at the time much closer to actual geezerhood... or there, maybe?!!) Our daughter, Bethie, decided we needed another canine companion (Alie was away at school, I believe!). We motored off to the nearby Humane Animal Welfare Society location. We interviewed a number of doggies. A mostly white creature -- with one enormous and several other black spots -- snuggled in next to Bethie as we three were seated in the interview room. That was that. “I’ll take great care of her,” said Bethie. “I’ll walk and feed her faithfully.” A week later she was enrolled at UW-M and living in a lower flat on Milwaukee’s east side.
We took Dakota -- now re-dubbed “Kody” for evermore -- to a doggie training class. I was trained. She was not. The dog had some fine qualities. She had a way of telegraphing her more elaborate call of nature. Because of that, we had the time to roll up a plastic, eared shopping sack and place it under her rear quarters, into which and without apparent objection she would deposit her (uh... How shall I put it?...) deposit!
On one occasion in which we were engaged as described above, a troop of “Itty Bitty” soccer
 |
| Seany's looking a bit underwhelmed. He was much younger then; so is Kody. They got along great! They were waiting on the porch for mail and doggie treats respectively, I think! |
Kody outlived all expectations for greyhound longevity, and died at age 13. Well before that sad time, however, she had one extravagant adventure up her doggie sweater sleeve. We were having our sinking front porch re-built with proper concrete footings, etc. The temporary door was a make-shift affair. My wife, Sweetheart, and I were embarking upon a walkies (again, grandchildren!) with our niece and her family. Kody wanted to come along. She clawed at the door furiously until it opened, raced after us, got to the middle of a busy adjacent street and was hit broadside by a four-door pickup truck. The driver was in tears as he, and we, gazed upon the panting, badly injured doggie, her stomach area filling with blood and fluid. A trip to doggie emergency, several "panicked" phone calls from said doggie emergency hospital staff proclaiming Kody
 |
| Sweetheart walking Kody. And that's grandson, Coen, in the wagon being pulled or pushed by a relative. (Everyone seems to be walking off the page!) |
a “former doggie” if we didn’t agree to more and more curative measures. Lots of anxiety and $3000.00 later, she came home. Sweetheart hand-fed her, Kody, that is, cottage cheese and scrambled eggs until she, Kody, was fully recovered and could nibble her kibbles on her own from a standing position!
The dog was voracious. She ate or chewed everything, including tin cans, windowsills, our dinner, sidewalk refuse, fax paper... I had to contact suppliers and clients to ask them to re-transmit. "Why?" they’d ask. I couldn’t bring myself to give them the real answer. I felt silly, like a kid conjuring a ridiculous scenario to a teacher. You know... that classic if inane excuse?!! A vet suggested, "Try tabasco sauce." May as well have been honey on toast; she loved fax'es with tabasco! Kody once ate an entire cheese cake, forcing poor Sweetheart to
 |
| Kody actually preferred her Fax paper with Tabasco! (Sigh!) |
6.) I shall not strangle doggies who eat my favorite dessert!
7.) I'm not giving up volleyball... I don't care what anyone says! Even though my knees and shoulders sound like a chuck-a-luck game!
8.) I shall resolve to chew my food at least 25 times like my mother said... or like someone’s mother said!(?)
9.) I’m giving up gum, and will encourage my nearest and dearest to do likewise! [To be truthful, I don’t chew gum. I dislike gum, and the slurpy, popping noises it makes in my sensitive little ears when others are chewing crazily within just a few inches of my precious earsies! (Grandchildren, again!) ]
10.) I will stop loitering in the incontinence products aisle at Walgreens... People are beginning to flirt shamelessly... making lurid remarks!
11.) And see here, I'm not giving up coffee! Tobacco? Alright... no more tobacco!!... or gin!
12.) I refuse to give up blogging... I feel I must, from time to time, record silly, ridiculous thoughts for posterity, and my own amusement, if for no one else's!
13. I'll see if Leonard will give me permission to use his name in the mystery story I'm writing... also the part about being pelted with lemons...!!
 |
| Ruby about to attack her "Kong," once it stopped rolling away from her. The Kong contains peanut butter. Ruby loves peanut butter! |
We no longer have doggies of our own, but we do doggie sit for our daughter’s “Bodie” and for our friends‘ “Ruby” and, previously, for our niece’s “Bella” who, sadly, is no longer with us.
Ruby is a coon hound with a commanding voice, a sort of howling that likely carries to the next county. On one occasion, we took her walkies in the neighborhood. Upon hearing a scratching noise emanating from a green refuse container, we reconnoitered and found a raccoon trapped inside the deep, plastic and slippery bin. We tipped the container to enable the raccoon to escape. As said bandit-eyed critter ambled across the road, Ruby spied and howled menacingly at squirrels, rabbits, passers-by, an owl, other dogs, shrubbery, cars, a plumber in a truck... Either she never noticed the raccoon, or perhaps she forgot her specific nomenclature! (I sometimes forget things, too, of course, and I’m allegedly a sentient being!)
Well, I suppose there’s a point to all this... isn’t there? I mean, doggies are extraordinary creatures. Best friends for life, unconditional love, delightful companions. We loved and miss our own Nicky and Kody, but we’re privileged to have others in our lives, occasional visitors and house guests, including -- lest we forget to acknowledge him! -- Geo, a gorgeous Bernese Mountain dog who lives with Jeff, and occasionally visits his “grandmom” and our dear friend who lives upstairs, at which time we’re pleased to welcome Geo into our home. With that, one more...
14.) Be it resolved that, at our ages and based on past experiences and loss, we likely won’t adopt another doggie for permanent residency, but we’ll always stop to greet those we meet on the street, and we’ll welcome visiting DOGnitaries into our home and into our lives, with great and genuine pleasure!
(Special Note of Gratitude and Attribution: The perpetrator of this posting offers special thanks to our children, Alie and Bethie, and dear friends -- the latter including, of course, Rob and Sue, Susie and others -- who have encouraged our knowledge and love of doggies, the canine creatures kingdom in general. Our lives are enriched as a result of the dogs we've lived with and known. Thank You!)
Humbly Submitted, 01-26-16 -- Joel K.
