Lometa's perfect puppy

My friend Lometa, who some of you may already know, recently suffered through the loss of two good friends, both of whom were dogs. She is a sturdy soul and she bore this loss with her trademark strength and grace. A little time has passed since  the event and her thoughts are turning once again to the joys of canine companionship. To wit, she's hoping to get a new puppy soon.

Rumor has it that Lometa will be offline for a couple of days later this week, and I thought it might be fun for E2 to help her in her search for a perfect puppy. Those of you who know her well already should be able to provide her with some insightful perspectives on the topic I'd reckon. And those of you who haven't had the pleasure of meeting the Lady LoLo, here's a reading assignment Go read any 20 of Lometa's brilliant writeups. Immediately. Yes, I mean it, shoo!

So, below, you'll find my perfect puppy for Lometa, and I'd like to invite the rest of you to give it a few minutes and drop your puppy right here in the daylogs. When she returns, she'll find our accumulated efforts and I think she'll grace us with a few smiles.

Here's the Rules

- Whimsical, factual, historical, referential, ironic, sappy and silly are all fine.  In fact, it all good, but if you insult her in any way I will track you down and make you eat nodegel until you apologize until she forgives you. And she  has a LONG memory.

- This whole thing stays in the daylogs.

- Let's each give her our best advice, but keep it on topic.

- As the New Yorker Magazine says, "Brevity is appreciated."

- Please add this headline topic to all contributions: "Lometa's Perfect Puppy"

- No matter when you write your puppy, post it in this node February 26, 2004.

Here's my own offering, subject to continuous revisions...

Lometa's perfect puppy should:

... be smart as a whip, because she is.  In the words of someone who knows her well, "Dat Lo is one erudite chick!"

... be fierce when necessary, because she needs a stout hearted companion when things get tough.

... be patient enough to sleep at her feet for many long hours while she's noding.

... be a bit strange looking, because she admires the more difficult kinds of beauty that others sometimes miss.

... make that soft dawggy snoring sound when sleeping, cause it's the next best thing to having a large cat in your lap.

... be friends with everyone, except the UPS guy.

... always be excited to see her, just like the rest of E2 is when she drops in here from time to time.

... quite obviously, Lometa's perfect puppy should be a smart, fierce, patient, funny lookin, snoring, friendly, loving Dalmatian dawg. D'Oh!


The Petshop Window

Lometa says re February 26, 2004: ohhhyer sneaky ! *L* Ahh this is so sweet! *tighthuggles and a kiss on the cheek* thank you.*smiles*

(Thanks to all of you! -gom)

I don't know what has happened to me recently. It started about a week and a half ago. I found myself getting so frustrated with our President that I wanted to start picketing, if not rioting. Yes, it's about the whole Gay marriage thing, cuz, y'know, the Gays aren't REAL people and have no right to marry.

It continued yesterday, on a wrestling news site I frequent I noticed that Shock Jock, and friend of wrassler Hulk Hogan, Bubba The Love Sponge had been axed. Fired from all Clear Channel radio stations because he is a shock jock, and often talked about "indecent" things. Personally, I think Bubba's a twit and don't really care.

It was then I noticed Google News this morning. Preferring the internet to a newspaper, I surfed through and almost shat myself when I saw that they fired Howard Stern. Now, I know Howie's popularity has dropped a bit since Private Parts and all the books he wrote and whatnot, but was this really a smart move? I'm sure that Stern still pulled in his fair share of listeners still, and has some pretty good ratings. And if he's getting good ratings, why would there be a need to fire him?

Now back to me :^). I emailed my Governor the other day, Governor Mitt Romney of Massachusetts, about gay marriage. I told him my opinion and ask that he change his (as he supports the president's amendment of STUPIDITY). I dunno if he'll even read it, or hear about it, but I feel better. Now to email Teddy Kennedy, John Kerry, and whoever else is in my state's government. I also emailed Clear Channel's radio department about my concern over their actions. I know that they are a private business, but c'mon, free speech people. Let Stern talk to the guy who boinked Paris Hilton and ask if did her anal. I pretty sure she does just by looking at her, but I want proof, as I cannot live my life anymore if I do not find out.

On a more serious note, I also told them that I will no longer be listening to their radio stations. This hurts more than anything. Ever since the bullshit in Iraq, where my former favorite morning radio program took a radical pro-war stance (that's fine, I know Greg Hill is a big Republican), I've been listening to Jamn 94.5's morning show. However, they're owned by Clear Channel, something I should have known as they only play 8 different songs throughout the day. I think it's time to email them too.

I still wonder though, how serious these emails are taken. I know you can get free boxes of Tastey-O brand Sugar Smackacular cereal for free by writing to their comapany via hand-written letter, but this is an email, which is more impersonal. Oh well, at least I did something.

I'm gonna preach here for two seconds, I urge the Americans reading this to email your government about this whole gay marriage thing. It's not a human rights issue, but more an economic one about how married couples get tax breaks and other bonuses for being married, while life-partners or whatever do not. This, to the politicians I'm sure, is the heart of the issue and it's disgusting. Then again, it's America, and as the wise prophets in the Wu-Tang Clan said, "Cash Rules Everything Around Me, C.R.E.A.M. get the money, dolla dolla bills y'all".

Sorry, I had to vent. /me hops down from his soapbox and works on something factual.

Lometa’s Perfect Puppy

Hi everybody! I hope you're all doing good, especially Lometa. My dad told me a little bit about how you lost your dogs. I think I know how you feel. I want to tell you about my dog. Her name was Trover and my mom found her when she was only a puppy and took her home. This was before I was even born! She told me she was only supposed to stay for a little while but she wound up staying 16 years.

She was black and white and looked a little like a Husky. At first, she was very playful and energetic but then she calmed down. I think she was a little jealous of me because my mom and I spent so much time together. Things changed when we moved to the country. Trover REALLY liked being outdoors all the time and even though she was getting older she loved to play and chase me around.

Then she started getting sick and her back legs didn’t work too good anymore. My stepdad built this little wagon that she could use to pull herself around. One week I went away to Girl Scout camp and when I got home my mom told me that Trover had died while I was gone. It made me really sad because I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. She was my best friend for a long time.

My Dad also told me you might be looking for a puppy so I wanted to tell you some things I like about puppies.

  • Wet noses and all the licks
  • All the cuddling and playing
  • Floppy ears and wagging tails
  • How they are always happy to see you, they never seem to be sad!
  • The way they run after their toys
  • I’m sure there’s lots more but that’s all I can think of for now.

    Whenever I see puppies, I think of Trover. Sometimes I think that there’s a little of Trover in every puppy.


    Running Log

    Running time: 28 minutes. A thin layer of frost covered the cars outside, and ten minutes into the run I knew I'd underdressed. Instead of nylon shell pants and zip up jacket I wore my usual shorts and light tee shirt. It was cold today. Whew.

    Today's running thoughts centered on my planned thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail to begin in March 2006. Last night I spent until midnight reading the trail journal entries (www.trailjournals.com) of a south-to-northbound hiker nicknamed Tucson, a young woman who kept a daily hiking journal with a daily trail picture. Her entries are like my running log. Her walk began in March, 2003 in Georgia. I've read her journal entries place up to the point that she's in Pennsylvania, where the trail becomes rocky and boot-unfriendly. The AT is 2100 miles long, and it takes normal hikers like me six months to cover it. Her journal entries are unvarnished: she has good hiking days and bad, and she discusses her motivations and fellow hikers, as well as what's good and what's scary about the hike. Her daily logs are a no-bullshit account of life on the trail. No book I've seen gives this sort of on-the-ground description. Ah, the wonders of the Internet.

    These pitiful few miles I run now are nothing to the long trail that is the AT. Even the 26 miles I'll be running in October will be nothing. This puts running into perspective. More importantly, it actually makes running easier. Today while running I kept thinking of life on the trail, day in and day out, in bad weather and in good, just like Tucson has chronicled. The running I do every morning is a small taste of what trail life will be like.

    I'm not sure what it is about middle age that causes one to desire a certain amount of discomfort. My friend Jim wanted to reinvent himself, so he signed up for three years of privation in Djibouti, Africa. A week after he leaves, I decide to do the AT in two years. (He'll be finishing up his tour of duty close to the same time I'm coming off the AT.) It must be the realization that we don't have many more years to accomplish some of the grand challenges we envisioned for ourselves when we were younger, so we'd better get the lead out and get off our asses, shake things up a bit and overcome the inertia of middle age.

    The family's good with all this. We will be empty nesters by then. My youngest of two daughters will be off to college, and the older one will be a nurse by then. The older they get the more pleasure they seem to get watching me put myself through the misery of such quests. They're tough girls, the kind that say "suck it up, Dad." I love them dearly for that, because I have seen in their own lives their adamant refusal to feel sorry for themselves during the hard times. My wife will manage finances and perhaps be a trail companion on brief hikes during stretches in Virginia. She's been the original inspration in this whole hiking thing, having been a trail guide in the Rockies during the summers of our college years. When she came back from Colorado she'd have a beautiful tan, fit legs and a glow about her that said volumes about a life close to nature. She's almost as excited about this walk as I am. She knows I need this.

    Friends have been good too. When they heard of this silly plan to hike the AT many offered to spend a day or a week on the trail with me. That will be great. Although trail life is anything but lonely - hikers usually sync up with fellow hikers going the same pace - by two or three months into the trail I will be ready to see familiar faces and hear how work, the industry, politics, etc. is going in the real world.

    If any of _you_ would like to join me for sections, that would be great too! I'll expect NotFabio, Johnny, thefez, borgo, allseeingeye, and doyle to join for at LEAST a mile or two and a nip or two. It'll be an adventure. Just catch me after I've gotten a proper shower, not after a week on the trail when hikers tend to get a bit ripe. And bring a book you think will enlighten me. I'm always looking for enlightenment.

    Must not lose focus of the October marathon. But now it's become a means to an end.

    I wonder what life will be like after the Trail?

    BEGIN *** BACK *** NEXT *** END

    Lometa's Perfect Puppy...from the New York Times job postings:


    Job Title:
    Lo’s New Puppy

    The Everything2 Daylogs

    Obedience School

    Lo's house

    Bed; Board; Love

    Date Posted:


    Come on, boy, come on! This is a full-time position for a dedicated and loyal hound. You don’t need previous experience in ball-catching and long walks – Lo trains. It's a perfect match...you are smart and feisty, fierce when necessary, and willing to work into the evening. Lo is a good provider and up for anything, so you better be ready for fun. Must be willing to sit and stay. Only good dogs need apply.

    Lometa's perfect puppy

    ... will systematically chew up any garment, clothing or footwear which has fallen out of fashion, thereby ensuring a perfectly trendy, sharp-dressed Lometa. "Mmm bell-bottom pants--CHOMP!"
    ... always puts the toilet set down after it's done.


    For Lometa’s Perfect Puppy I submit 2 poems by Pablo Neruda; Ode the the dog and A Dog Has Died.

    This puppy will have to be copyright compliant, because Lometa wouldn’t have a non-compliant puppy! This means I’ll have to cut the quoted words down to less than 200 for each work and that IS difficult because the whole poems are so beautiful. SO, I’ll try to pick the words that seem to most apply to Lometa.

    The first poem appears in Odes to Common Things by Pablo Neruda. As with all the poems in this book we are first treated to the Spanish, Oda al perro, then the English translation: Full of wonderful illustrations by Ferris Cook (including 2 really cute dogs) one is left wanting more. And more there is, Ferris Cook has authored and illustrated another book called Bark: Selected Poems About Dogs.

    Ode to the dog

    The dog is asking me a question 
    and I have no answer. 
    He dashes through the countryside and asks me 
    and his eyes 
    are two moist question marks, two wet 
    inquiring flames, 
    Dog and man: together we roam
    The open countryside.

    Neruda roamed the countryside with his dog. In fact he met his third wife, Matilde Urratia, while walking in Parque Forest in Santiago, Chile. One of the things Lometa really misses is her walks beside a canine friend.

    The dog makes stops,
    chases bees,
    leaps over restless water,
    listens to far-off
    pees on a rock,
    and presents me the tip of his snout
    as if it were a gift:
    it is the freshness of his love,
    his message of love.
    And he asks me
    with both eyes:
    why is it daytime? why does night always fall?
    why does spring bring
    in its basket
    for wandering dogs
    but useless flowers?
    This is how the dog
    asks questions
    and I do not reply.  	

    Poor dog with his Spring basket of useless flowers… I think Lometa’s puppy will like flowers.

    a gust of orangey air,
    the murmuring of roots,
    life on the move,
    breathing and growing,
    and the ancient friendship,
    and joy
    of being dog or being man
    fused in a single beast
    that pads along on
    six feet,
    its dew-wet tail.

    This reminded me of my friend Lometa and her dogs, Kiki, Sam, Sasha, Pepper and Cosmos. She has written many times of the value she found walking with those dogs and their devotion to her. A puppy for Lometa will need to …ask questions while roaming the desert because Lometa needs to give answers, to us and to those she loves in her doggy space. She will answer the new puppy’s questions, just as she did the old ones; with love and affection, while walking in the desert.

    The second poem appeared in Poetry Magazine and I pulled it off their website.

    A Dog Has Died

    with those eyes so much purer than mine,
    he'd keep on gazing at me
    with a look that reserved for me alone
    all his sweet and shaggy life,
    always near me, never troubling me,
    and asking nothing.
    Ai, how many times have I envied his tail
    as we walked together on the shores of the sea
    in the lonely winter of Isla Negra
    where the wintering birds filled the sky
    and my hairy dog was jumping about
    full of the voltage of the sea's movement:
    my wandering dog, sniffing away
    with his golden tail held high,
    face to face with the ocean's spray.

    In the second poem Neruda talks again about the gaze of his dog. Lometa’s new puppy will gaze at her with adoration, for that is what a well loved dog does, and this puppy will be loved, for that is what Lometa does.

    Odes to Common Things by Pablo Neruda (A Bulfinch Press Book)

    CST Approved

    Well I dont know much about puppies, but I really like big dogs. My only advice is to stay away from any puppy that will never get any bigger. Good luck!

    I'm moving out of my house today. I am storing all my stuff and staying at H.'s place (he's in Thailand) until Monday when I fly to Thailand. Everything is coming together. Stopped working on January 31. Got all my ducks in a row during February. Now all I have to do is move out and fly away to Asia.

    It's a great feeling to finally be moving again. I am soooo happy to be getting out of Germany. I really did not have a good time here. You'll never ever ever hear me recommend Germany and its lifestyle to anyone.

    I'll be back here in April for another 6 weeks. Then on June 8, 2004, Quinn, my son, will fly here and we will travel in Europe together for a month, hitting Greece and Italy, Germany and maybe France or Portugal.

    Then I will also see if my german unemplyoment will come through. If it does then I will likely remain in Germany until October. If it doesn't happen then I'm out of here in time for the second leg of Dead Tour in August.

    Back to the USA after more than four years... ahhh the dream and memory of home: Chicago. I am so enthusiastic about this change at this time. It's like cycles winding down and circles completing themselves. Chapters finishing and new doors opening.

    Ahhh, yes. Time to go and move some more... be good y'all see you from Thailand.

    This one is for Lometa’s Perfect Puppy

    Man, I gotta dig deep in the archives of my brain to remember my first puppy. It was so long ago that the memories, while certainly faded over time, seem to somehow have been reincarnated.

    I must’ve been maybe somewhere between 10 and 12 years old and I used to help this lady, whose names escapes me due to the passage of time, walk her dog. Funny, I can clearly remember the dog though. Its name was Suzie and it was sort of a black lab mix. Friendly as hell and quiet to boot. I don’t this dog ever made a sound other than panting after running around in the park.

    Anyway, growing up in a section of Brooklyn called Bay Ridge, we were fortunate enough to live very close to Shore Road Park. It was a (and hopefully still is) a huge expanse of green in the middle of concrete. From the park, if you looked one way, you could see the Statue of Liberty and the buildings of downtown Manhattan. If you looked the other, you’d see the Verrrazano Narrows Bridge and maybe the spire of the long abandoned parachute jump at Coney Island. Straight ahead lay the shores of Staten Island.

    One day, we were taking Suzie for her walk when we came upon a little brown and white puppy. It looked like it had recently been abandoned or lost and was eager to make friends. Suzie’s owner decided to take it home with her and to see if she could find the owners. We put up signs around the neighborhood but nobody called to claim the pup.

    Suzie’s owner also lived in a small apartment –too small to house two dogs. And so it was that I approached my Mom and Dad with the idea that we should take the little one in.

    My Dad was a hard man. Hard thinking, hard drinking and a self described graduate of the School of Hard Knocks. His first inclination seemed to be to say “No” to any proposal that was put in front of him and when I asked if we could have a puppy I wasn’t all that surprised at the answer.

    I remember being heart-broken and I made every excuse that I could think of in trying to get him to change his mind. The answer that came back was always the same. Finally, when my persistence was wearing thin, I finally pleaded with my Dad that he hadn’t even seen the puppy so how did he know he wouldn’t like it.

    All it took was one look. Something in that hard man seemed to soften. Maybe it was in his eyes or maybe it was in his heart but something, at least for a short while, changed. My Dad called the dog “Tramp” and he had a home for the next six or seven years until I left to join the service. I can recall the darn thing curled up at my fathers feet at night as he read the paper and the pride that I felt as I walked it around the neighborhood. A boy and his dog so to speak.

    So Lometa, maybe that’s the magic of puppies. Somehow they seem to have some kind of innate ability to soften and heal the hardest of hearts and stubbornest of minds and that’s maybe the most perfect thing of all.

    I feel stupid to be a Chicago Cubs fan today. While the world crumbles around us, the top story on all stations and papers is how we, tonight, are going to be privy to a televised execution. Tonight, at Harry Caray's Restaurant, the foul ball deflected by Steve Bartman will be destroyed by a special effects expert.

    That's funny, I guess, and cute. Until I realized that this lifeless,leather baseball was treated to a MASSAGE last night, a hotel suite and a last meal of lobster and steak after being granted a last tour of historic Wrigley Field. Watching this news story, I've never experienced a greater What The Fuck moment in all of my life. And the seriousness with which people take this Billy Goat Curse is bordering on bizarre. Baseball is a game of many superstitions, individual and team alike, but please people, let's get a hold of ourselves!

    For my part, all of this brouhaha about Steve Bartman is an insult to the talent of the Florida Marlins as well as stupid scapegoat for the lousy play the Cubs exhibited in game 5,6 and 7 of the 2003 National League Championship Series.

    So on behalf of all sensible Cubs fans, I'd like to say, I apologize for all of this insanity.

    Lometa's Perfect Puppy

    Rudyard Kipling said it best:

    There is sorrow enough in the natural way
    From men and women to fill our day;

    Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
    Of giving your heart to a dog to tear

    Buy a pup and your money will buy
    Love unflinching that cannot lie

    Nevertheless it is hardly fair
    To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

    When the fourteen years which Nature permits
    Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,

    Then you will find – it’s your own affair --
    But . . . you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.

    When the body that lived at your single will,
    With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)
    When the spirit that answered your every mood
    Is gone – wherever it goes – for good,
    You will discover how much you care,
    And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

    - - - excerpts from “The Power of the Dog


    I have been involved with dogs much of my adult life : purebred or mixed breed - purchased, found, or adopted - big or small - puppy or adult.

    I have no advice to give on choosing a new companion. My very best dogs have chosen me.

    Well I said I would let everyone know when I got Internet at home. I got it. Adelphia Powerlink. Haven't accomplished much so far. Internet was installed Friday. So it's been about almost a week. I've caught up on some school work. Lots more to accomplish though. Let's see, I need to make a to-do list anyway:

    I am NOT having one of my better days. I have some really good friends tho. I am loved. I am very lucky. I wish I could never forget this.

    One other highlight: I am now a mentor! How cool is that?

    Lometa's Perfect Puppy

    Lometa's perfect puppy would be brave. He would single-handedly take on houseflies, strangers, and any scraps of paper that happened to be lying around. He would insist on going in and out through his favorite door, a hundred times a day. He would be constantly monitoring the perimeter and reporting back. All new furniture would be suspect until he had a long nap on it.

    Lometa's perfect puppy would be 'wicked smaht.' He would roll over, shake hands, pay the taxes, and massage Lometa's feet every night before she fell asleep. He would squirm underneath one of Lometa's arms and lick her face when he knew she had had a bad day. Before any major decision was made, he would insist on voicing his opinion.

    Lometa's perfect puppy would love to have his tummy scratched.

    Lometa's perfect puppy would have short, pointed ears and a long tail. When he slept, the tip of his tongue would hang out of his mouth, and his paws would twitch as he dreamed. He would make gentle, sighing noises when he was happy. He would beg shamelessly for a treat, but would be hurt if he thought he was being laughed at. He would be a warm shape on the foot of the bed at night.

    Lometa's perfect puppy would always be overwhelmingly, wildly delighted to see her.

    Lometa's perfect puppy would be affectionate. He would insist on jumping into laps long after the 'puppy stage' was over, particularly those of unwanted but persistent guests. He would curl up at the foot of Lometa's bed every night, and sigh almost inaudibly before falling asleep. He would sulk if left alone all day, but forgive... or forget... everything after a few minutes.

    Lometa's perfect puppy would spend hours doing something completely pointless, because even perfect puppies should have a vice.

    Lometa's perfect puppy would, in fact, be a cat.

    I believe, above all notions, Lometa will not find the dog which will become her perfect mate.

    Nay, the dog will bark her name out with a dog’s special rough magic. She’ll hear it and know the dog has called her, saying:

    “I want to lick your face.”

    And Lometa will know the dog has found her.

    This is the only way it can be perfect.

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