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WHY DOGS STOPPED FLYING

Before humans,
dogs flew everywhere.
Their wings of silky fur
wrapped hollow bones.
Their tails wagged
like rudders through wind,
their stomachs bare
to the sullen earth.

Out of sorrow
for the first humans–
stumbling, crawling,
helpless and cold–
dogs folded their
great wings into paws
soft enough to walk
beside us forever.

They still weep for us,
pity our small noses,
our unfortunate eyes,
our dull teeth.
They lick our faces clean,
keep us warm at night.
Sometimes they remember flying
and bite our ugly hands.

— Kenneth W. Brewer

The roommate was hanging out with us last night just after I got home from work. This is Lomax’s nutty time, when he’s off leash and out of jacket, and free to zoom around the apartment with wild Labrador abandon.

So Amy was next to the dog toybox, into which Lomax was sticking his head.

“Can I give him something?”

“Sure.”

“What does he like?”

“He likes everything. Anything’ll do.”

“What do you want, boy?” She pulls out and tosses the Holee Roller ball. “You want this?”

No good. Lomax stares at her and wags slightly.

“How about…oh wait, I know….” It was the springy, rubber “DNA” double helix toy he loves carrying around the apartment. “THIS!”

Not so much. Puzzlement with wrinkled brow and another slight wag.

“How about the man?” She tosses the little fleece squeaky-person.

Nope.

“I don’t get it! What does he want?!?”

“To control you.”

Lomax (and all his littermates, of course, including sister Kandy and brother Liam) will turn 18 months old today!

Last Saturday I took him to Liam’s house for a brother photo-op as well as to meet Voight, a working GDA guide whose partner is on vacation for a few days in a dog-inconvenient locale. Voight’s staying with Liam and his puppy raisers; they raised Voight, too. I remember when Voight was just a pup…I had just started coming to GDA meetings. And now he’s a grown up guide dog! We’re all very proud of him.

He looks great in his harness, as though the mantle of maturity and experience has settled upon him. The L Brothers want to be just like him when they grow up.

Here’s the serious “GQ” shot, with everybody looking handsome:

And here’s the personality shot:

I haven’t posted much lately. Things have been busy, and quite frankly, it’s hard to get a good picture of Sr. WiggleBuns in action because both my hands are usually quite occupied. You know, controlling the wiggling.

He’s doing well. We’re past the month mark (mark! ha ha!) with the…neutering, and he seems to have calmed down a tiny bit. Or perhaps that’s me seeing what I want to see? He hasn’t once walked away from his food bowl mid-meal since the snippage, he’s cuddlier, and he’s less likely to get up and try to wander when he’s under the desk at my office. Also, he’s been very vocal in the mornings when I give him his first hugs and kisses and scratches of the day; he makes this terrific, joyous “moooof MOOF-moof mmmmmoooof” grunting noise that makes me laugh (hence the nickname “Mr. Moof”).

However, there’s still some pretty crazy dog distraction happening, and some people distraction as well. I’ve called the trainer from the GDA puppy department, and scheduled an appointment for her to come work with us at home one day next week. We’ll let you know how that goes.

We’re down to about two months before Lomax goes IFT (“in formal training”). I can’t believe the time has gone so quickly, and I hope we can get this distraction thing worked out before I send him off to college!

And the Oscar for Best Dog in a Future Leading Role goes to…Mr. Lomax!

Now that he’s been neutered, there will be no Brokeback Mountin’ jokes.

I wish I met each day with such enthusiasm. YES I’m getting up. Now stop slobbering on my sheets.

I shouldn’t be as excited about these things as I admittedly am. Surely it speaks volumes about my life.

A few days ago, Lomax took about the longest pee I’ve ever seen him take. I didn’t have my watch on, so I couldn’t clock it, but it was amazing — it must have been a minute or more. I stood in awe; we were out there so long it was almost embarrassing. He was full stream ahead, standing in one place, one little hind leg raised slightly. There was no sniffing every three inches for someone else’s pee-spot to be usurped. There was no desperate search for a tree or a lamppost or another suitable target.

Brother Liam’s people once referred to our boys as “Lords of the Three-Second Whiz,” but I am relieved (ahem) to say that now, post-neutering, those days seem to have passed.

Ah, progress.

We’re not supposed to give them nicknames, these dogs. Lomax knows his REAL name, and responds to it, but anyone who’s ever had a dog knows that you can’t avoid the inevitable parade of nicknames. Here’s ours:

Mr. Lomax
Mister
Sir
Little Man
Dingus
Lomaximus
Wiggler
WiggleBuns
Mr. Happy
Danger Tail
Moof
Mr. Moof
Moof-Dog
Moofles
WigglyMoof
Snorter
Snortles
Stinkbug