There are no bad owners, only bad dogs

2006-03-30

Cryin', over me...

I had this whole fabulously entertaining blog entry all planned out in my head, which is the very last place you ever want to leave anything you might need to find again, ever, and now I�ve got nothing.

So I�ll just blather on for a while, like I do, and pretend it�s fabulous.

Yesterday when I was at the airport, arriving home from my weekly trip on Buddy Holly Air, I saw a huge array of suitcases laid out on the runway, 4 deep and at least 20 long, with 4 or 5 feet between each bag. �So that�s why it takes so long to get the luggage to the carousel,� I thought. �They�ve got someone with OCD sorting them now.� Then I saw the trucks parked next to the bags. Police K-9 unit trucks. It was sniffy practice! The dogs were all quite young and goofy as hell. They were Belgian Malinois, the D. O. C. (Dog of Choice) for all tasks sniffy. It was pretty clear that obedience wasn�t part of what these dogs were being rewarded for, because one of them was dragging a big cop all over the runway. The trainers were placing something sniffable in one of the bags, then asking the dogs to find the right bag. When the dog did it right, he got to play with a red plastic bouncy ball and OH MY GOD you�d think it was a red bouncy filet mignon because that dog thought that the ball was the best thing ever. Way back in the olden days when I worked for a vet, we took care of the customs and border patrol dogs that worked at that particular point along the Mexican border, and they were all Belgian Malinois, as well. The trainers had gone to Belgium to work with the dogs and had to learn some commands in Flemish. The dogs were all just as goofy as the ones I saw on the runway � one of the agents once told me to just make a fist and bop his dog on the head when he was pulling on the leash � it was the only thing the dog would respond to.

So that was the interesting part of my trip.

OK, now I�m wondering how I forgot this: This morning I was looking through boxes in LaZBoy�s old cubicle, looking for a publication that I knew he should have. I didn�t find my quarry, but I did find a bunch of notebooks filled with (?) poetry (?) song lyrics (?) random babbling (?) self-therapy (?) and herewith, I share a small portion with you:

I look into the eyes
of every person I meet
Most don�t realize
(scratched out stuff) Just what they�ve lost
can your
I ^ see it in eyes
You seem to have lost your way
Seems You think the great journey of
life in the great drama
Led nowhere again today
Don�t know if you realize
I can see you�ve lost your way
I can see it It�s right there in your eyes
Going through the motions every day
Wonder if you know how much they say
Whatever you do, got to keep hope
burning bright
You never know who,
give up
When you give up hope, you lose everything
Without it just another song you used
Life becomes ^ a song you forgot how to sing
If a childhood like mine didn�t kill me
Who knows when I ever will?
No seatbelts
Lead−based paint
Playing ball in the street
Jumping off a building with a parachute made from a sheet
Battles with b−b guns

Page after page after page of this. If I were smart enough to figure out how to put a pdf into my blog, you could see the scratched out parts, etc., but I�m not that smart (obvious � I work at EduMart�). Try not to weep from the beauty and sheer emotion. I�m struggling to hold it all together because it�s just so bee-yoooo-ti-ful. LaZBoy was aspiring to write country music instead of working! But he left it behind, and now I�ll steal it all and become a famous songwriter and be a guest judge on American Idol! I knew that my career path would someday become clear�.

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