No Bitches Allowed

Okay, I believe the first order of business is to explain myself. For this I turn to Urban Dictionary.

Bitch: 1) the act of whining excessively; 2) someone who refuses to fight or is scared to fight.

This story begins at 5:30 this morning when my alarm went off for my first run since my last half marathon on April 1st. It's been a while. In all honesty, I wasn't awake for the beginning of the story - I came to around 10 minutes later after hitting snooze in my sleep a couple of times. I crawled out of bed and into running clothes... and then into another set of running clothes. (I just don't know what to do with this thousand degree weather or how to run in it!) After some Gatorade, half a banana and putting my contacts in for the first time in months, I was off!

Getting back into running is always difficult for me and I tend to struggle with pushing myself. It's so easy to just to ease back into it, convincing yourself you've lost more ground than you really have. Before you know it, weeks have passed with little progress and the "warm up" never really ends. The more I run, the more I learn what my body can handle, so I try to set my goals accordingly. There were a couple of times in my run this morning where I wanted to stop and walk for a bit, not because I needed to, but because I was tired... and it was my first day back, after all. This is when a divine iPod intervention took place and the rap gods arranged a song to keep me going. What both of those songs had in common today was not being a bitch. People survive much more significant hardships all of the time; I could suck it up and fight my way through the uncomfortable parts of my run. So that's what I did.

In the words of Jay-Z: I got 99 problems but being a bitch ain't one

On Gratitude

Sometimes we let life get in the way of our own happiness. Things get busy, we get stressed and we spend so much time working toward something greater that we forget to appreciate blessings in the moment. I am especially guilty of this over the past few weeks. I felt myself focusing on all of the frustrating, stressful parts of life and it ends up feeling like a sort of infection of negativity.

I decided (with Oprah's encouragement) to start keeping a gratitude journal. The basic idea is to write at least 5 thinks you're grateful for each day, big or small. I found that it helped spark an attitude adjustment in my cranky self so I thought I would share my results from last week! Here is what I am grateful for these days:

Monday
having enough
a good night's sleep
Bear
free coffee at work
good wine

Tuesday
supportive, encouraging work environment
friends you can tell anything to
machines that wash our stuff
Casey's hugs
work laptops

Wednesday
a paycheck
Diablo 3 (no I don't play. really.)
Casey and his mad skills
lots of daylight in the summer
wearing over-sized pajama pants

Thursday
Ray LaMontagne - you are the best thing
Otis Redding - sittin' on the dock of the bay
John Legend - stay with you
Florence & the Machine - dog days are over
Eric Huchinson - ok, it's alright with me
The Script - breakeven
Maroon5 - the way you look tonight
Gavin DeGraw - more than anyone

Friday
the practical uses of rice
teamwork!
fridays - they just feel better
coming home from work puppy loves
runner's glide

Tales from the Dog Park

Outside of work, the dog park accounts for a good portion of my human interaction these days. This may already be apparent by my most recent posts which are almost completely dog related (I'll work on some other topics). This is yet another observation of the interesting people behavior that takes place at the dog park.

The phenomenon that I've been noticing lately are the people who are snobs about their dog's playmates. Like little puppy socialites, they're only allowed to interact with a select few (if any) appropriately cute and calm canines. Yet these people are in a dog park at peak hours. Yes, I am confused too.

Not too long ago, there was one poor, unfortunate soul at the Boneyard (awesome dog park + bar) named Melo, which I can only assume was named after the Anthony, despite being a fluffy poodle or maltese. Melo's person was very diligent about keeping tabs on his whereabouts and was a little more vocal than the other Boneyard patrons quietly chatting amongst themselves. "Melo! Mel-o!" She'd yell from across the park, sounding a lot like Pablo Francisco impersonating woman. Although annoying, we all put up with it, pretending we didn't notice except for the sideways glances to each other. She blabbed about how her pets are her children and she's so protective of them; she doesn't like her dog being bothered by other dogs and would prefer that he didn't interact with them at all. Then things got a bit more intense. Melo is a male dog acting like a male dog. He sniffs other dogs and sticks his face in places people might find embarrassing... because he's a dog. Well, Melo's person was horrified by his actions. She ran across the park and pulled the dogs apart, declaring Melo's virginity. She insisted that due to his upstanding character, "he doesn't do things like that."

Whoa, lady. Melo's a dog, not a born again Christian. So sorry.

There were more antics and ridiculous statements, probably fueled by the cans of Keystone Light that the staff would later discover in the parking lot. I am proud to say that I kept my cool and didn't say a word, not one word... until she started it. 

Melo came over to Casey and I, where there also happened to be two large, vicious dogs (one a black lab) playing gently with maiming each other. They set their sights on the white, fluffy morsel just as Melo's person came to the rescue. "Hey, get away from him!" Pushing and shooing the face-licking, tail-wagging monsters away from her precious pup. "Um, excuse me. Make your dogs stop!" 

I'm pretty sure not even the first word came out of my mouth at a reasonable volume. It escalated to a full-on arm waiving, screaming match with a total stranger that ended something like: 

"Then leave if you can't handle it!" 

"I am!"

"Well, you're not moving; get out!"

"I'm going!"

Some of you might not even believe I would do this, and I want to note that I hadn't consumed a drop of alcohol during this visit (that might have helped the situation and kept me quiet a bit longer). Slightly embarrassed that staff came outside to assess the situation, I started to process what had just happened. Maybe I over reacted... but the people left and the bar staff seemed to think I was the least crazy of the two of us. This was good news. 

I still occasionally encounter and am stumped by the person who will bring their dog to the park only to obsess over preventing interactions with other dogs and people. Why?!

Maybe Will Smith was right, parents just don't understand.

If My Dog Can't Eat It...

Oddly enough, having a dog has made me take a closer look at the foods we eat. For the most part Bear doesn't get much "people food." But we do let him try a variety of what we would call "real food," you know, the stuff that comes right out of the ground or off trees and bushes. If he's eyeballing a certain fruit or vegetable that he's never had or particularly likes, we'll give him a little. This has resulted in the surprising realization that the Bearmeister likes quinoa. He's quite refined.

On a few occasions, I've caught myself not allowing him to have something and it makes me question why I'm even eating it. "No Bear, you can't have that Dorito - it's bad for you." Wait a minute...

If I won't allow my dog (who eats all kinds of ridiculous things around the house and survives) to eat something because it's bad for him, wouldn't that mean it's bad for me too? I'm pretty sure it does. Although I'm not committing to ban Doritos from our lives, I think I should spend more time asking myself, "would I give this to Bear?" If the answer is no, I need to seriously consider why I'm willing to put it into my body (with the exception of chocolate, of course).

The funny things he makes me think about.

Dog Park Etiquette

If you've spent any time in a dog park, or a public space with dogs for that matter, you're probably familiar with this scene. A small dog (often with an unfortunate name like Princess or Mr. Pickles) who doesn't stray far from their owner and meets other dogs with complete hostility. When you think of dog park etiquette, you'd think these disgruntled little Napoleons would be the ultimate offenders; but more often than not, they aren't. It's their crazy owners that create the problem.

I'm not trying to judge my fellow pet lovers, and I am definitely not claiming to be perfect, but there are just some things that you shouldn't do if you want a sociable, well-adjusted dog. For example, don't bring a baggie full of dog treats to a park with 30 other dogs, give them to your pup and then wonder why it acts aggressively when other curious noses appear. When said dog acts aggressively don't correct reward him by luring him over to a secluded corner of the park with yet another treat, ball, or toy. This is a positive outcome for unfortunate behavior (that you created, by the way) and your pet doesn't understand your full sentence explanations about why "it's not nice to growl and bite at other doggies like that. You can't make friends by being mean, so don't do that anymore, ok? Be nice." Your dog will respond with some variation of:  *blink* *blink* Is that a treat?

And God forbid you actually start feeding other people's dogs. I'm astounded that we see people bringing food into the park for their pets, but when they start feeding other people's dogs that's crossing a strange sort of line that I didn't even know existed until it happened. I never expected to have such a strong reaction to this, but the small handful of people who I've seen do it have really irritated me. We have a friendly pup and his sniffer's pretty darn good, so it usually doesn't take him long to figure out who is sneaking treats to their dog every minute and a half. He's also generally smart, so he'll hang out in this person's vicinity just in case they should lose a treat. Some people act irritated that he's hanging around expecting to get some of their dog's treats (the nerve!) and others find him endearing and share the wealth. How am I supposed to teach my dog not to harass or jump on you when you keep giving him treats? I also have no idea what that treat is and you don't know what I feed my dog on a regular basis. What happens when he gets rawhide as a treat and not doggie cookies, and those 8 biscuits you just gave my 17 pound dog means I have to deal with the runs for two days? 

Today's treat giver was a special kind of irritating. Not only did this family bring a ton of treats for their overly aggressive "in-tact" dog, they also brought some toys. At one point in time this lovely gentleman was taunting another woman's dog with the toy, pretending like he was going to throw it for him. When her dog remained glued to his side, barking at him, she naturally tried to get him to stop. But I think we all knew there's little you can do (other than confuse the hell out of your dog) when the other person is actively working against you. The solution, in this case, was to call it a day. Their tummies and our blood pressure didn't need any more of that nonsense.

All too often, the dogs that get a bad reputation for behavior that's not entirely their fault. Yes some dogs naturally have more agressive temperaments than others, but they are ultimately a product of their environment. I still like to think that these cardinal rule breakers really do have the best of intentions and don't understand that they are often a source of tension for both people and pets.

(For the record, Bear has never gotten sick from other people at the park - yet.)

Here's some more official Dog Park Etiquette, based on things other than my personal opinion.

For more amazingly ridiculous photos: www.ihasahotdog.com 

Writing Bug

This morning I woke up with a writing bug like I've never experienced before. I'm not sure if it was there when I opened my eyes or if I created it by starting one of my 27 in 27 items - writing down my dreams for 30 days. I always have the best recollection of my dreams when I first wake up, and this morning I remembered more than usual. So I pulled out a notebook that hasn't been filled with class notes yet and started day 1 by scribbling down what I remembered. By the time I was done with the first dream, I couldn't recall very much of the others, but that's to be expected. I've heard once you start doing this, you tend to remember more and more. I wrote for a good 15 minutes, and then had to start getting ready for class. I left a quick note for Casey to find when he woke up and then hopped in the shower.

As the morning went on, my thoughts wouldn't quiet down and the urge to write became more intense. I'm not sure if it was the subject that needed to come out (which may turn into another blog for another time) or if I just needed to write - about anything. Many writers will say they do it because they need to. Until this morning, I don't think I've ever understood the need to write, to dump out all of the contents of my head. It genuinely felt like my sanity was on the line. I started to get irritated that I didn't have the time to get my thoughts out in the way they were coming to me in those moments, and I considered foregoing the morning routine to do it. Rest assured, I managed to convince myself to shower, brush my teeth, and clothe myself. But the entire time I kept thinking things like, "Why am I putting on mascara right now? I need to be writing! This is ridiculous."

I wasn't able to sit down and write again before I had to go to class, so I just let my thoughts flow as if I was writing (but really I was brushing my teeth). It definitely wasn't the release I was looking for, but eventually the urge subsided and I got over the fact that it didn't fit into my schedule today. I find it funny that I'm having a hard time writing this blog right now when not so long ago it felt like if I could just sit down at my computer for 30 minutes the feeling would be so fantastic that it just might solve world hunger. I will be interested to see if the writing bug bites again as I continue to jot down my dreams in the morning. I don't think I will ever feel the need to write as a profession, but I'm finding that I really enjoy doing it for fun. Now, if I could only convince this bug to take on my final papers, I'd be set.

Berlin Bear?

One thing Berlin is famous for is bears. They love their bears - and selling bear souvenirs to tourists, which of course I fell for. You can find buddy bears all over the city with their arms stretched to the sky. Coincidentally, this is also a pose our little Bear can often be found doing, which somehow I don't have a photo of (distressing)! Today, we made a discovery that our very own Bear just might be German too.

Bear makes all kinds of friends at the dog park, both pets and people, the latter always asking, "what kind of dog is he?" This is the standard dog park convo, like going into work on Monday and asking, "How was your weekend?" We always respond with some variation of, "standard pound puppy breed: terrier mix" which is exactly what we were told. The organization we adopted him from also said he's likely part dachshund and upon telling people this, the response is largely skeptical with a wide variety of rationals (my favorite being, "oh I don't think so; he's too smart").  Bear has even met another pup just like him who was also a rescue and her person had even fewer guesses than we did. We think rescue mutt is an honorable breed in its own right and have no problem offering our ambiguous answer, although we've always been curious.

Today, Casey met someone who disagreed with said ambiguous answer and told him he didn't think he was a mutt at all, rather a specific terrier breed from Germany - the Jagdterrer (Yack-Terrier) or German Hunting Terrier. So, naturally, we went home and googled Jagdterrier until we ran out of youtube videos (not involving dead animals) and got sick of reading technical breed specifications. However the conclusion is: knowledgeable stranger was totally right! Minus a few 'flaws' like pricked ears and non-docked tail, he matches the photos and descriptions pretty well.

Take a look for yourself:

Image of a Jagdterrier snagged from the interwebs.

What little Bear probably looked like. So cute!

Does this look familiar?!

We also read a lot that reinforced our observations of his personality and gives us insight on how to keep him happy and healthy. These are definitely working dogs that are happiest when they have a job to do and get quite a bit of exercise on a regular basis. Good thing I've started taking him on my morning runs in addition to the dog park trips! Should we become unBearably curious (I crack myself up), apparently most vets can run a relatively inexpensive DNA test to help you figure out your pet's makeup. Until that time comes, I think we're pretty convinced that this is it. Awesome unexpected discovery!