Goofball Antics

Dog: World’s Worst Coach

I am training for a half marathon.

I thought about training for a full marathon, but then the reality what that was like the last time I attempted it kicked in and I remembered that oh yeah, I don’t like to run. I think you can do a full marathon once when you don’t like to run, just to say you did (Rock n Roll 2001 for me), but after than there’s really nothing to prove other than, “oh yeah, this hurts.”

A half marathon though, is doable. Still not fun, but manageable. I have decided, along with my friend from the gym who I kind of hate because she keeps inviting me to things such as “Summer Boot Camp!” and “Half marathon! It’ll be fun!” and I keep saying yes, that should we complete this without killing ourselves, maybe, just maybe, we will try and tackle a triathlon before our 40th birthdays.

Do they let people leisurely triathlon these days? All my competitiveness gets used up in my professional life so I have none left over for this.

Anyway, the point is I am doing this and it’s a grind, but I keep remembering that health is a gift and blah blah blah; I’m training with a group because it’s the only way I will drag myself out of bed at 6 am for the long Saturday runs.

Brody doesn’t come with me on those. He can manage shorter distances, but he’s made it clear he’s not yet ready for anything over 3 miles, tops, despite his summer cut. I appreciate that.

This Saturday I ran (‘ran’?) 9 miles, which sounds alternatively fantastic and psssshaw depending on where on the running spectrum you fall. To me, this is the longest distance I’ve done in a single day since I staggered off Mt Meru a few years ago, and that was because I had to since there was no oxygen up at the top.

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I’m hunched over because I couldn’t straighten up, not because I voluntarily felt like standing that way. Teri is hanging on for dear life.


 
So after 9 miles, at the end of which I realized my entire body was numb from the waist down, I came home and sat on the floor to stretch. Soon enough I was laying on the floor, like one of those crime scene outlines.
 
020 0120 7141 023 0123 7173 Small is Beautiful Floor Black Still Life

020 0120 7141 023 0123 7173 Small is Beautiful Floor Black Still Life, by Steve James on Flicker

I began to appreciate why dogs do this, this splat sort of positioning. The wood was cool. Soon I melted and became one with the floor. Why don’t I do this more often? I wondered, and when my daughter asked me why I was doing that I realized it was not really possible for me to make it onto the couch at that particular moment.

Brody was excited I was in his domain, plopping down nose to nose and looking at me like, “Hey! What are you doing here?” He stared at me for a while, and then I decided I needed to stretch if I ever was to have hope of standing up again.

It went about as well as you’d expect.

Dogs don’t understand why we would come into their territory for any purposes other than play, and Brody was having none of it. He laid on my foot, licked me in downward dog, and dumped a soggy tennis ball on my stomach when I tried to stretch out my hip. It’s clear I’m not alone in this.

Dogs are awesome at many things, but sitting quietly by while you sit on the floor and bend into weird shapes is not one of them. If you’re going to goof off, they figure, might as well let me in on the fun.

Anyone else have a dog who simply won’t let you on the floor by yourself?

 

 

Filed: Blog, Daily Life, Featured Posts, Fit Life, Goofball Antics, Health, Musings Tagged: , ,

Super Bowl Ads Scorecard

Let’s face it, the game on Sunday ceased to be interesting about 15 minutes in so there was more interest than there normally is in the advertisements. There were some hideous ones. There were some OK ones. There were some great ones. Here, in no particular order, are some of the animal ads that graced the screen during our annual American paean to commercialism.

Chevy Romance

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I was very concerned this ad was going to end up in some sort of abbatoir, or a rodeo, or any number of things we’d all get the sads from watching, so to see the bull go off to a life of studliness is a clean getaway, albeit a bit manipulative. And really, it’s just slight take on the typical “guy opens bud, ends up in pool with 500 supermodels” ad so I have to take some points off for originality. Grade: B-

Ian Up for Whatever

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I would be thrilled to come across Don Cheadle and a llama in an elevator. I can think of few things that would entertain me more, except perhaps Bill Murray and an alpaca in an elevator. TAKE NOTE, BUD. Grade: B+

Doberhuahua

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I just found this ad confusing. Were they in a pet store offering on demand breeding of designer breeds? Why is this Doberhuahua so angry? What dog show is going to let a non-recognized breed in? Why are their eyes so buggy and has anyone tested their intraocular pressure yet? Why is that one launching himself at a window? WHY IS HIS HEAD SO BIG?? I realize none of these things are relevant to the point of the ad, but I was so distracted by the million questions in my head I forgot to pay attention to what they are supposed to be advertising. Is there some horrible monster-tire bearing sports car hybrid Audi shoppers should be wary of? Is that the analogy? See, I’m still confused. Grade: C-

Doritos Kid

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So close, yet so far away. I know I’m veering into “get a sense of humor” territory, but I really, really hated the kid riding the Mastiff. When you see someone like Steve-O doing something dumb on TV, there is an implicit understanding that most sane people would not do what he does. But riding dogs is the sort of thing undereducated parents encourage their kids to do EVERY day, with the results being something less than a bag of Doritos and something more like a trip to the ER and a euthanized dog. This commercial had plenty of material to work with without showing something so irresponsible. Grade: D

 Budweiser Puppy Love

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At least we can cleanse our palates with this one, puppy love at its finest. If I’m being honest, I usually despise this song, so kudos to Budweiser for making me get the warm fuzzies over a song I hate and a beer I don’t drink. That, my friends, is a good ad. Grade: A 

Filed: Blog, Goofball Antics Tagged: , ,

Flashback Friday: Depressed Puppy

So I was looking through old Brody photos for a Flashback Friday and found this one:

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Which was awesome all by itself, and then I realized he was the perfect candidate for some captions. So I turned him into a Depressed Puppy Meme.

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Hope you have a better long weekend than this guy! ;) (If I recall the true sadness was not being allowed to chase my mom’s hellkitty around)

Feel free to make your own caption, they always entertain me. :D

Filed: Blog, Daily Life, Features, Goofball Antics, Photography Tagged: , ,

It’s Bad Poetry Friday: Emails and spam

This is what happens when you leave me alone in the first rainstorm of the year with a bottle of port, a pile of Dr. Seuss books, and a backlog of emails asking, asking, asking, asking for me to once again be a Nice Veterinary Writer/ Pet Blogger and do some more free work. Mostly, it’s just a silly Friday I need to Apologize to Dr. Seuss Once Again kind of post. I dedicate it to all of you who know this feeling all too well.

 E-Mails and Spam

I’m Dr. V.

Dr. V is me.

That Dr. V!

That Dr. V!

She likes to write,

That Dr. V.

I do not like

to write for free.

So please don’t ask, love, Dr. V.

Would you write

for some treats?

I do not want to write for leashes,

I do not want to write for treatses.

I do not want to write for free,

So please don’t ask, love, Dr. V.

 Think you might?

We are huge, with tons of fans,

But we can’t pay, still, think you can?

I do not want to please your readers

Or to help you sell your feeders.

I do not want to write for free,

So please don’t ask, love, Dr. V.

Feed it! Feed it! To your brood!

Could you? Should you?

For a book?

Read it! Read it! On your nook!

Quarry

I would not, could not, for some food,

I know you think I’m being rude,

I do not want books to review,

My free moments number few.

I do not want to write for free,

So please don’t ask, love, Dr. V.

I know you like to cover puppies.

Here’s our product helping puppies.

Write about our site for puppies?

We value your advanced vocation,

So donate! For no compensation!

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I will not, thrill not, about your puppies,

They’re cute, for sure, those little muppies.

But I too, have a job to do

And mouths to feed, and loans still new.

I do not want to write for free,

So please don’t ask, Love, Dr. V.

I sure do like that you respect,

My time and schooling, I detect

You value this as my career

And that I can’t be in arrears.

I do so like to write for fees!

I’m glad to do it. Love, Dr. V.

Filed: Blog, Goofball Antics, Musings, Picks of the Litter Tagged: , ,

The Hairy Hambone in: GUILTY!

By now I’m assuming many of you have seen Denver the Guilty dog. If not, it’s worth it.

The behaviorists will tell you, over and over again: Stop anthropomorphizing your pets. They do not feel shame or guilt.

I don’t know about that. For all the protesting that dogs forget what naughty things they did 5 seconds after committing the crime, that these intelligent beings simply disavow all knowledge and memory of their actions and are merely responding to our own disapproval, I know of way too many dogs like little Denver above who seem to embody just the opposite.

“They are just responding to your disapproval!” is the standard line. But what if you aren’t exhibiting any disapproval since you had no idea a crime was committed? Brody is the king of tipping his hand. No matter how happy or excited I am to see him, if he’s done something wrong his remorse wracked posturing gives him away. In fact, that’s the main reason I know to go hunting for some destroyed item or eaten delicacy.

And with that, I present the sequel to the Hairy Hambone: GUILTY!

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The Hairy Hambone

As you may have heard, this weekend marked the annual Comic-Con. What this means in practice is that over 100,000 of the world’s hardiest hardcore nerds descend upon our fair city, bringing with them their finest Storm Trooper costumes and zombie paraphernalia.

Each year my husband, a lifelong attendee, takes this opportunity to bring out his dusty boxes of comics from his youth to flip through them and figure out if any of them are worth anything. They never are.

In honor of this festive event, I am unveiling the very first Brody graphic novel: Introducing…

My comic
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