Dogs' Best Friends Step Up for Equality

Just One More Reason to Love Boxers?

Uncle P's Mother is a fan of televised dog shows. Personally, I cannot watch them without thinking about Christopher Guest's hilarious, ad-libbed spoof Best in Show. Guest and company's followup to Waiting for Guffman (probably the funniest movie about Community Theatre ever made) is exactly how I always pictured the folks who enter, judge and attend such events. It's also the first time I really took notice of then up and coming lesbian star Jane Lynch.

Now don't me wrong. I may hate dog shows, but I love dogs! My last dog, a Golden Retriever/Cocker Spaniel mix named Brandy (I gave in on that argument) was a fiercely loyal and protective dog who passed away the night before she was scheduled to be put down (all this while I was unemployed and had to inform my friends I wouldn't be participating in Christmas that year). I found her at the foot of the stairs to my bedroom, her chin and one paw on the bottom step. That's completely true and I'm crying again just thinking about, so don't worry if you're crying, too.

My first dog was an AKC Registered Schnauzer bitch, officially named "Brian's Heidi." My maternal grandmother bought her for me and my father hated her and she spent her entire life chained to the kitchen table or on a short leash in the side yard (the dog, not my grandmother). No dog should have lived that kind of life and I feel guilty that Heidi didn't have the life Brandy had (and before you ask, yes I'll talk about the cats someday, too - just not tonight).

Anyway... what this is all leading up to is an official letter from the AKC (American Kennel Club) to the FCI (aka World Canine Federation), urging them to move the 2016 World Dog Show from Russia in light of recent anti-LGBT laws and events there. The letter is below (Via):

Dear Rafael,

One of the most compelling aspects of the human-canine bond – cherished internationally more than ever before – is the fact that our dogs love us unconditionally. Dogs do not discriminate. Gender, race, sexual orientation and other status do not enter the equation of responsible pet ownership.  That is why the American Kennel Club and our constituency are puzzled and disappointed by the decision to allow Russia to host the 2016 World Dog Show.  The proliferation of anti-gay and lesbian laws in Russia today is both disturbing and shocking to our community.  The choice of this country as a venue for such a prestigious dog show flies in the face of the ideals of the human-canine bond.

On behalf of the American Kennel Club, our member clubs, and the American purebred dog fancy, we urge you to move the 2016 World Dog Show from Russia to a nation that respects and upholds human rights for all its citizens.  The international dog community deserves to enjoy the World Dog Show in a place that stands for freedom and equal rights for all.  AKC cannot and will not support participation in the 2016 World Dog Show if it is held in Russia.

As exhibitors, breeders, handlers and trainers, we teach our dogs many things.  But there is no denying, they teach us too.  Our bond with dogs is not defined by the type of person who holds the leash.  We cannot support competition in an environment where tolerance does not exist.

Yours respectfully,

 It was signed by the AKC's Chairman of the Board, Alan T. Kalter and the President & CEO, Dennis B. Sprung. 

 Can there be any better proof that animal lovers are better Human Beings? I think not! Here's to the AKC for stepping up!

If I ever get another dog, it will be a boxer named "Tyson." Why? So when people say "Really? A boxer named after Mike Tyson?" I can say "No. He's named after Tyson Beckford, a-hole!"

More, anon.
Prospero

Play Dead

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Pla

Over the years I've had my share of pets. Three dogs; three cats; a dozen or so gerbils; tropical fish; anoles and my very funny (though occasionally very noisy) current pet, Skye. I suspect that most of us, at one time or another, has or has had a pet. And we eventually come to realize that (with the exception of a few of the larger parrot breeds), we will outlive our pets. It's part of life and often how most children first learn to deal with death. 

But what if the Zombie Apocalypse took place tomorrow? What would happen to our beloved non-human family members? Filmmakers Andre and Diego Meza-Valdez attempt to answer that question with their very amusing and just a bit disturbing short film, Play Dead. Set in Miami, Play Dead is a story about survival, camaraderie and why dogs hate cats. 

Enjoy (language and violence may be NSFW):

Play Dead (2012) FULL MOVIE from Andres and Diego Meza-Valdes on Vimeo.

Personally, I'm sure there are plenty of other food options for the surviving humans.

More, anon.
Prospero

Name the Budgie

The picture above is very similar to my newest house guest. My mother was so upset by what happened to my poor finches, that she insisted on getting me a new bird as an early birthday present. "One you can teach to talk and sit on your shoulder and have fun with."

"Okay, Mom. Whatever you say."

"And it has to be a male. Only the males talk" (which I have since learned is not true; males are simply better talkers).

So, off we go to buy me a new bird. The first place was the least expensive, but the birds there were too young to tell their sexes (males. like the one above, have a bright blue stripe across the top of their beaks). At the next store, the birds were more expensive, but the only males they had were rather unattractive green and yellow mottled things. I guess that makes me a speciest. Onto the the third and final place. Here (a chain pet-store, albeit one with a good reputation) they are the most expensive, but they have a beautiful blue and white male. Perfect. As the clerk is catching the budgie (with a rather clever folding net), I go and get all the items needed to retrofit the newly cleaned and repaired cage so it is appropriate for its new occupant: bedding, food, grit, grit cup, wooden perch and assorted toys (I had to talk my mother out of buying the embarrassingly tacky parakeet Ferris wheel - I couldn't find an image of it to share with you, but trust me, it was awful).

So, my question to you is: What should I name my new pet? This is the second time I'm asking you all for your opinions. Not something I do lightly or often. I have some ideas, but the websites all say to keep it simple, so the bird can learn its name. I'm inclined to go Shakespearean (big surprise there, eh?) but am open to any number of creative and appropriate names.

Please leave your suggestion in the comments section (and not on Facebook, FB friends). As with my tattoo request, I can't promise I will go with anything you might suggest. But I will take all serious suggestions seriously.

More very anon.

Prospero

Finally!

A brief post tonight. I had a sinus headache all day and am just now starting to feel a lot better.

I finally had visual confirmation of the chicks, this afternoon. For the first time since the first egg hatched, the Z's both came out of the nest long enough to allow me a glimpse at the chicks. The babies are sure tiny, though they appear to be a full fifty-percent head! They were asleep when I looked in and could only make out that they were breathing, but I think all six eggs were fertile. They chirp pretty strongly now, though when they are awake, one or both of the parents are on top of them. I imagine that as the chicks get bigger, Mom and Dad will need to spend less time in there with them and I'll get a better look. I have to start calling pet stores to see what they pay for chicks. Maybe I can do better on CraigsList.

Anybody want a finch? Free to friends*, family and other readers.


*I have to be honest and tell you that I first typed "fiends" here. Once I realized my typo, also realized how it changed the offer and my intentions in a hilariously twisted way. So, just to be clear: fiends will have to pay for them; friends will not.


More of this, anon.
Prospero

I'm a Grandpa!

First, a warning: This entry has become a sentimental essay on the nature of pet parenting and not like my usual stuff, so you may want to jump ahead to my next entry which is about movies.

The first of Zebina's eggs has hatched! I caught a glimpse of the chick tonight, almost two weeks after first sighting the eggs. The chick is super tiny and looks more like a Sci-Fi alien than a bird; almost like a teeny worm with a wee beak. It's hard to see with all the nesting and down in the nest, but I saw it move twice so I know it's there.

And Zebina herself has doubled in size in just two days! I have filled their feed cup twice this week, added a millet spray and chopped fruit, and she just keeps on eating. She's actually twice Zebadiah's size. As for him, he is now pulling feather's from her back and taking them into the nest, though twice I saw her give him hell for it.

As a kid (and into recent adulthood), I had all sorts of pets: turtles; gerbils; anoles; tropical fish; hermit crabs; Sea Monkeys; 3 dogs and 3 cats. And I am told that I had parakeets (my maternal Grandmother's pet of choice) as a toddler. Many of these pets (the dogs and cats, mostly, if truth be told) hold many fond memories for me. Said Grandmother (a true character who will no doubt figure in a work of mine, one day) bought me a rabbit (Thumper - how creative...not!) one Easter and later bought me my first dog, an AKC registered Schnauzer which we later bred with a neighbor's Schnauzer, twice. We kept one of those pups. Not long after they were both gone, my mother brought home a gorgeous grey-tipped Persian cat named Samantha, who was rescued from a home overrun with pets and children. Samantha was a great cat and well-aware of her beauty, but she bonded with my sister more than anyone. Samantha lived to be eighteen - a very long time for a cat of any breed. My sister was devastated when Samantha died.

A rash of neighborhood burglaries prompted the purchase of my beloved Brandy, a Golden Retriever/Cocker Spaniel mix who was beautiful, hilarious, loyal and a bitch in every sense of the word. Samantha was still alive when Brandy came to live with us, and after so many years of being Queen of the Castle, abused and cowed the puppy into complete submission. Of course, all Brandy ever wanted was to be friends, but haughty Samantha would have none of it. After Samantha passed, Brandy was Queen Bee for quite a while.

Then my little buddy Kirby came into my life; Mom showing up at the door late one night with this adorable young kitty who walked into my house like he had always been there and within ten minutes stole my heart. Kirby's favorite trick was the "slow lap-leap." As I sat on my end of the sofa, watching TV, he would jump up onto the opposite end of the back of the sofa and very slowly make his way toward me. Soon, a little paw would land itself on my shoulder. A few minutes later, the paw was joined by its mate. Suddenly I would find myself with a lap full of purring cat, grabbing at my wrists for attention. If I completely ignored him, he would jump back up onto the sofa back and bite my hair. And he loved everyone - I never saw a more affectionate cat in my life. But if it came down to being petted by anyone else or me, it was always me he chose. It was devastating to learn that at just age 7, he was suffering from both liver disease and diabetes. Putting Kirby down was made a little easier by my dear friend "K" (if you've been reading, you have met her before) coming with me that awful day, even if she had to leave the room when it came time for the actual injection. And to be honest, my biggest solace was that my vet cried right along with me, telling me that no matter how many of these procedures she did, they never got easier.

And Miss Brandy once again ruled the roost. But, as all things must come to pass, Brandy's age caught up with her. She was about 16 when she passed, a good age for a medium/large dog. She was well-loved and when I knew it was time, I called a vet who would come to the house to put her down. The night before the vet came, I wrapped Brandy in a blanket and laid her in front of a small heater in the living room. When I woke up the next morning, I found her with her paw on the bottom stair to my room, as though she had been trying to say "goodbye."

"That's it. No more pets!"

Until three years later when a friend was about to move her boyfriend into her home. BF had a cat, to which my friend was allergic. Said cat, needed a new home. And so came Miss Pepper into my life. BF had rescued her 10 years ago, from a man who could no longer keep her. BF had no idea how old she was when he got her, because she was just a tiny little thing - 3 lbs, at most (the groomers at PetSmart always thought I was bringing my kitten to have her claws trimmed). Pepper was the neediest, most neurotic cat I have ever owned. She had an incessant need to lick literally everything (though she preferred my face and hands). And I mean everything: plastic bags; the drapes; the tub walls after a shower; the fridge; boots; people... Pepper was sweet and weird (one of about twenty nicknames I had for her was "Weirdo") but just a few years later, she was gone as well. I suspect she was older than BF had led me to believe.

Again, I said "That's it! No more pets" (though to be honest, I am almost desperate for a Boxer).

Then came The Skin of Our Teeth and Zebina. The rest, as they (whoever "they" are) say, is history (however non-Earth-shattering that history may be). This is fun, new and exciting for me. I hope they all hatch and survive. Maybe I can even make some money out of it.

This did not turn out to be the post I thought it would be when I started. But I suppose, if nothing else, it's a tiny bit of insight for you (I know there are at least four of you, now) into me.

OK - movies, next! Promise.

More of this, anon.

Prospero

Zebina Laid an Egg

Well, five, actually.

The lovebirds had been acting funny ever since I provided them with a box of "nesting material" from my local pet store. Zebadiah ignored it for a week. Then I noticed him with a beakful of it one day, and watched as he flew into the little wicker nest I had bought when I first bought Zebina. Soon, I began to see Zebina fly into the nest for the first time. Soon, the wicker palace was a soft and cozy nest for two.

For the last several days, only one of them would leave the nest at a time and I began to be especially suspicious when I noticed he was out much more often than she was. Tonight, for the first time in days, they both came out at the same time and I had visual confirmation of what I thought was happening all along: five tiny white, Jelly-Belly-sized eggs lay on the floor of the nest. I'm so excited, because it happened much faster than I thought it would. Ay, me! Bird love! I'll keep you posted. In any event, would you like a Zebra Finch?

More of this, anon!
Prospero

Zebina Got Married

The 'ceremony' was at 7:15 PM in my bathroom, after the reluctant groom had settled in my sink long enough for me to catch him. "Zebadiah" quickly settled into his new home and the happy pair are canoodling as I type this. After I went online and discovered that Zebina is indeed a female, I went to get her a companion, because she seemed so lonely in that big cage (they also have two new perches, a cuttle bone and some toys). I didn't even watch as the young lady at Pet Smart snatched my new bird and boxed it up. It wasn't until I got home and got him in the cage that I realized I had a male (the deep orange beak, bright red cheeks and larger tail fan were the giveaways). Who knows, I may end up with Zebra Finch chicks.

I had no idea that directing a show would lead to a whole new world of pets for me. I still need a stand (right now, the cage is on a plant stand, but it's getting cold and my plants have to come inside soon) and a tray to catch the seeds they seem to delight in knocking to the floor. And truthfully, Zebadiah is still a little freaked out after his box-to-bathroom-to-cage adventures, but he'll settle in quite nicely. They spent about about an hour together, huddled atop the wicker "nest," peeping and squeaking away. Now they are both hopping and flying about, getting used to each other (though they were probably together in the store for a while and just need to get re-acquainted).

A short and simple post tonight. I'm still catching up on television and am off to Chicago on a business trip for my day-job on Friday. I'll start renting movies again next week and maybe writing about them sooner.

As always, more of this anon.

Prospero