sorry, that last journal was kind of a poorly-written brainshit. I'll do better, mom! I promise!
***
I was a dogsitter last weekend. big dog-- great dane-sized mutt. but he is a sweetheart, and well trained, so that was fine. well except uh, I don't know how it is where you live, but around here the locals will hang you by the neck until dead if you don't pick up your dog's poop. which is okay! everybody in boulder has a dog, so I appreciate it. but picking up after a dog the size of an adult human is not awesome. not awesome at all. and that's all I'm going to say about that.
WHO'S A GOOD BOY?
SUCH A GOOD BOY!
I know he doesn't look that big in these pictures, but notice please that he is sitting next to me with his butt on the sofa and his front paws on the floor, and not looking particularly awkward. big dog.
***
I never really liked dogs when I was a kid, and I'm sure it's because the dog I grew up with was a miserable creature. we had a dalmatian, confined to the kitchen of a city house with a tiny, unfenced yard. this poor dog, who wanted nothing more than to run and run and run and run, got walked around the block on a short leash once a day if she was lucky. she rarely got a bath, so she stank, so nobody wanted to touch her. she was almost completely untrained, so she got yelled at constantly for acting like a dog. she was shut in the kitchen and ignored for 23 hours a day, and that was all the life she knew.
under the table, head on paws, waiting to go run.
I feel sick with guilt when I think about how unhappy she must have been. I was just a kid! I didn't know anything about dogs, and if my parents knew better, they didn't teach me. but no excuses; I wasn't nice to her. I wouldn't pet her. I yelled at her for pulling on the leash. I think she really loved me. I feel sick.
but in the last few years I've spent a lot of time around happy, healthy, clean, well-behaved dogs, and they are really growing on me. of course, the more I see how loving and ecstatic about every fucking thing happy dogs are, the worse I feel about our poor dalmatian. I try to be as awesome as possible to every dog I meet now. I'm a good dogsitter. stick! running! belly rubs! treats!
ears up, all smiles, bright eyes, furious tail. the longest fucking walk.
***
I was a dogsitter last weekend. big dog-- great dane-sized mutt. but he is a sweetheart, and well trained, so that was fine. well except uh, I don't know how it is where you live, but around here the locals will hang you by the neck until dead if you don't pick up your dog's poop. which is okay! everybody in boulder has a dog, so I appreciate it. but picking up after a dog the size of an adult human is not awesome. not awesome at all. and that's all I'm going to say about that.
WHO'S A GOOD BOY?
SUCH A GOOD BOY!
I know he doesn't look that big in these pictures, but notice please that he is sitting next to me with his butt on the sofa and his front paws on the floor, and not looking particularly awkward. big dog.
***
I never really liked dogs when I was a kid, and I'm sure it's because the dog I grew up with was a miserable creature. we had a dalmatian, confined to the kitchen of a city house with a tiny, unfenced yard. this poor dog, who wanted nothing more than to run and run and run and run, got walked around the block on a short leash once a day if she was lucky. she rarely got a bath, so she stank, so nobody wanted to touch her. she was almost completely untrained, so she got yelled at constantly for acting like a dog. she was shut in the kitchen and ignored for 23 hours a day, and that was all the life she knew.
under the table, head on paws, waiting to go run.
I feel sick with guilt when I think about how unhappy she must have been. I was just a kid! I didn't know anything about dogs, and if my parents knew better, they didn't teach me. but no excuses; I wasn't nice to her. I wouldn't pet her. I yelled at her for pulling on the leash. I think she really loved me. I feel sick.
but in the last few years I've spent a lot of time around happy, healthy, clean, well-behaved dogs, and they are really growing on me. of course, the more I see how loving and ecstatic about every fucking thing happy dogs are, the worse I feel about our poor dalmatian. I try to be as awesome as possible to every dog I meet now. I'm a good dogsitter. stick! running! belly rubs! treats!
ears up, all smiles, bright eyes, furious tail. the longest fucking walk.
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Also, if you haven't already read it, you might enjoy this: Peter Galison's Einstein's Clocks, Poincare's Maps: Empires in Time
That depends: when was the last time you bathed?