Timber : More than a Dog

Losing a pet is never easy. Especially when that pet has been a member of the family for a decade. Timber started out as a dog Leanne and Mom impulsively bought when Dad was away on a fishing trip with Connor and Ryan and I was off at college. Dad was not pleased, to say the least, when he arrived home to see a white German shepherd standing on the couch filling up the living room picture window. He always joked that on seeing Timber when he drove into the driveway, he made the comment, "there's my boat." He went on to get a boat, but with mom and Leanne's purchase, he gained a friend. Leanne's ongoing complaint of Timber was that he was her dog but he liked Dad better than her. With Leanne being away at college for 4 years and Mom never very appreciative about the hair Timber left all over everything he came in contact with, Timber, perhaps instinctively, gravitated toward Dad. They kept the same hours, with Dad waking up before the ass crack of dawn and Timber there with him when he went out to get the paper. Dad also had the tendency to give Timber his leftovers. So of course the dog made the right choice.

Anyway, it is with a heavy heart, but one filled with fond memories, that I make a top ten list of moments shared with Timber, our family dog. (Family members were consulted for their thoughts)

10. The first time I met Timber. I came home from college for a long weekend and in the family room I waited for Timber to come in. When he did, he was a wild man on crack in the body of a dog. He ran so many laps around the room that not only was I dizzy from watching him, I was also exhausted. I have never, til this day, seen a dog with more energy.

9. If Timber was a human, he would have made a fantastic landscaper. In the second half of his life, Timber was so attached to Dad that he had to be outside if Dad was outside. And when Dad mowed the lawn, Timber followed him. Right behind him. When Dad reached the end of the yard and turned around, Timber did the same. He kept pace with Dad for the entire mowing session.

8. Timber kissing a coyote. Amazing things happen on good old Amaryllis Ave. One being that a coyote was roaming the street for a day. The coyote was in our backyard and Timber wanted to get outside to say hi. When he was mistakenly let out, the coyote jumped the fence, only to turn and attempt to stare Timber down. Timber, never one to be bashful, ran up to the fence and got nose to nose with the coyote. It was like he was meeting a long lost relative.

7. Timber, as scary and intimidating as he appeared when he was barking like a rabid mutt on the other side of the living room picture window, was a sweet heart and anxiety stricken. Much like babies have security blankets, Timber had his security bowl. Whenever he was nervous about a visitor, his bowl would be in his mouth. And nothing was funnier than Timber trying to be all intimidating by barking while holding the bowl in his mouth.

6. Timber had a nervous bladder. When he was young, he would lose control and pee whenever I would come home. He did this for a number of people. Mostly men. However, throughout his life, Timber held on to this tradition with Aunt Nancy. Even though this habit stopped for me and mostly everyone else, Aunt Nancy still tickled his sphincter muscle because he peed to years each time she came over. So much so that when she came in she would have to run straight to the back door and let him out.

5. Timber destroyed two of his cages. He loved his freedom. More than (insert racial joke). He loved his freedom so much that he figured out a way to break out of his second cage. When we tried to outsmart him with bungee cords, he outsmarted us and broke out with his revenge being pouring Liquid Tide all over the family room. Finally, we resorted to pad locking his cage. This only resulted in him pushing the bottom tray out of the cage which allowed him to walk around the house with the cage on his back. Eventually we gave up on locking him up.

4. Timber and I used to play ball in the backyard when he was younger. He would not stop running after the ball until I gave up or until I felt sorry for him because he was on the verge of throwing up. Anyway, on one such occasion of playing ball, Timber, somehow, stumbled upon a rabbit hole. Only because he couldn't catch the stupid ball and was pouncing all around the entrance of the rabbit hole while struggling to get it in his mouth. One baby bolted out of the nest. It got Timber's attention. The second little bunny wasn't as lucky. Timber just happened to be in the right place at the right time. He caught the little guy in his mouth. And it started screaming in bunny-speak. I freaked out. I tried to pry his mouth open to no avail. I yelled at him with no result. He ran up onto the deck and wanted to go inside while he had this creature in his mouth. I said, "No! Not until you get that out of your mouth!" He understood exactly what I said. So, he swallowed the little bunny whole. I was scarred for life (more like a week) and he was allowed in the house.

3. As a puppy, Timber got into a lot of trouble. He once stole a bottle of Wesson Oil from the kitchen and spilled it in the family room. Then, he thought it tasted so good that he ate the portion of the carpet that was soaked in Wesson. We covered that spot with a chair until we got new carpeting.

2. Leanne scared the poop out of him. Arriving home from a Bar Mitzvah with a crazy sombrero, Leanne ran into the family room. Timber was so frightened that he retreated backwards until he backed into Connor where he proceeded to poop. On Connor. I think he just used to sombrero as an excuse to poop on Connor. He always loved to mess with Connor.

1. Timber loved us. As rough as we played with him he knew his limitations. He would play extremely rough with us. No matter who was playing. But, each time he would go to bite our arms or legs, he would make like he was all ferocious and rabid, but it would be the most gentle bite ever. His teeth would be primed for the biting except he wouldn't bite. It felt more like he was gumming us. And then he would lick our arm or leg and then our faces. We could terrorize him and he would take it. He would lick us, kiss us, jump up on us, and that was it. He knew he was the stronger one in the fight, but he never tried to win the fight. He cared for all of us too much. He loved us so much. He knew when we were sick, or sad. He would be sad whenever any of us was leaving for an extended period of time. But he was never happier when we came home. If I could have one wish right now, it would be that when we get home from vacation, I'd get to see my doggy happy one more time.

MacGruber

If you are in the mood for the best male buttocks and hairy man belly button love scenes ever, go see MacGruber. Is it stupid? Yes. Is it inane? Yes. Childish, moronic, and stupid? Yes to all three. And I intentionally have put stupid twice.

But, it is funny. On SNL, "MacGruber" is a one and a half note joke with the exact same punchline every time. The latest installments have built on each previous minute sketch to add to the funny, but there really aren't any surprises.

MacGruber the movie is chock full of surprises, cameos, and "that just went a little too far" moments. But they all miraculously work. It funny just to hear a character previously forbidden to utter any four letter words, let all the curse words available fly out in unexpected ways.

I mean, Val Kilmer's evil mastermind is named Cunth for Pete's sake. (Hey, Pete, how is San Fran treating you?)

If you are in the mood for a stupid R-rated comedy there's only one man to call. MacGruber!


Heed the Dub

Day ???

It's me again. I do not know how long it has been since my last post on this running thing. I am too exhausted to check the date of the "Day 2" post. Obviously, it has been a while. Sorry.

Here is the update. I was only one half mile behind the leader last week, I think. That was after I had only run about four miles for this dang competition. But the tide has run red with nipple burn. Unbeknownst to me, I was dealing with legit, real deal, "I run at 5am", pro-am 5k competitors.

It was not like I was bragging and boasting, and shouting from the flagpole or over the P.A. system during the morning announcements about my four miles. I wasn't. Seriously. If anything I was downplaying my early boost in the ratings, slightly suspicious of what my opponents were capable of. I was correct to be wary.

As of this morning I was at a meager 11 miles and in third place. There was absolutely no sign of the women in front of me because they have exponentially increased their paces. Over one weekend, one runner, let's call her Sleeprunner, ran like nine miles to take the lead. Myself and Runner 2, let's call her Trackstar, whose idea it was to start this God forsaken, "all for the fun of it", six month marathon, were stunned. But then the next day, Trackstar chalks up four miles for herself and I am left holding the plastic, bronze medal that everyone receives even if they don't finish the race.

I was demoralized and downtrodden to say the least. What was I to do? But a small spark went off in my belly after watching Jack Bauer disembowel a Russian assassin Monday night. That spark grew to a flickering little flame when Jack agreed to accept the responsibility of guarding The Island and drank Jacob's Kool-Aid. And Wednesday when I saw that Sleeprunner was almost at twice my total and Trackstar was only a few behind her, I decided enough was enough.

Then Alys took the wrong train Wednesday and wound up in Glen Rock. She needed a ride back to Nutley. She had crossed the county line over to the Bergen side and was out of her parents' jurisdiction. I was needed and unable to turn my little flickering flame in a fire.

Thursday. Enough was enough. Got on the road and my feet carried me all the way to good ol' River Dell High School. Two miles each way! I was not done. Got back and ran another mile around the neighborhood. Then to vary things a bit, I did a half mile shuffle stepping. The bonfire was a' burning!
Talk about in the zone! I did another half mile and called it a day.

Saving up a little some'in some'in for tomorrow.

Heed the Dub

Iron Man 2

Go see it. It is quite a ride.

Only one complaint: The final showdown at the end with Mickey Rourke's Whiplash ended a little abruptly. I would've liked to see more.


Heed the Dub

House Hunting with a Crazy Critter

Alys and I were house hunting because for some reason we had yet to find a place to call home. We entered a large three bedroom colonial somewhere that afforded a large yard near a wooded area. The tour of the house was going fine. We seemed to be liking it and each room we entered was better than the last. It wasn't until we walked out the backdoor onto a patio that overlooked the verdant lawn and the adjacent wilderness that this house hunt took a turn for the worse.

The small varmint gave no hint of malice at first. He was milling around on the edge of the trees, scrounging the grass for any bits of grub. No ill will at all. Alys and I were far enough away to just point and casually comment on the odor this little beastie would leave behind him, but then the innocuous creature turned and stared. For the briefest of moments I could feel his eyes upon me and I swear I saw him lick his lips. All conversation ceased and then silence. There was a faint sense of a breeze but the leaves remained still and birds no longer chirped.

A stick cracked somewhere off in the woods.

As if it was a starter's pistol, the skunk made a bee line skampering dash in our direction. We snapped out of our momentary freeze frame and turned towards the backdoor. The sound of this ferocious little gargoyle was a mix of a child suffering an asthma attack and a grizzly bear. Quite jarring. I slammed the sliding door as the mad skunk crashed into the glass. Thankfully it held. We shared another eye to eye, man to monster, stare. Then it looked to its left and I swear it smiled.

It took off running and suddenly, it occurred to me that this emmin-effer was going for the garage. The realtor had disappeared conveniently enough, and Alys and I bolted to the door that led to the garage. She hit the button for the door to close as I stood watch. When it finally shut we stood there in silence, questioning each other if this was really happening. A false sense of safety overcame us and we let ourselves relax for about three seconds. Then, there was a scratching noise in the far side of the two car garage immediately followed by a mammalian hiss. I was close to the four door sedan so I jumped in. Alys swung around to the other side of the door leading inside and closed it just enough so that she could still peek out.

The car was hot and leather. I peered out the window, looking out onto the area from which the sound came. I saw nothing. The car had been backed into the spot so through the windshield I could see Alys. She began to shout in a whisper something that I couldn't quite make out. But it wasn't long before I knew what she was trying to tell me. The skunk (don't ask me how) had opened the trunk to the car. I realized this when I heard the little bugger clawing its way through the backseat. As its head popped through the center of the leather backseat, I let out a shriek and stomped on it, sending it flying back into the trunk. I exited the car and met Alys at the door, but the skunk was right behind. It had its best opportunity to land its rabid claws into my legs and its bloodthirsty teeth into my buttocks, but it went for the spray attack.

One of my dream's parameters for skunk attacks was that a spray assault could only be carried out by being immobile. The skunk had to stop to shoot its stench. And his aim wasn't all that accurate. We narrowly escaped by turning the corner into the kitchen, though now, we were in an unfamiliar house that we had only once toured with a rabid skunk deadset on our extinction.

TO BE CONTINUED...


Heed the Dub

Day 2

Ouch. Succeeded in running another mile and a half but at what cost. So to lift my spirits, here is an oldie but a goody.



How do you fit a 500 lbs. man into a size three dress?

Here is a hint.

Take the F out of fat.
And take the F out of weigh.

You are absolutely right. There is no F in weigh.

Get it?


Giggle a little while I ice myself.


Heed the Dub

Day 1

The challenge: Accumulate as many miles as possible running on whatever surface is available. Three teachers have accepted this challenge, all of whom will remain nameless, but I'll give you three guesses to figure out one participant.

A chart has been posted that records miles accumulated in total by all those involved. I joined the competition on Friday and I am already losing. Big time. I did nothing over the weekend, exercise-wise, but it was not my fault. I will accept the blame, however. Walking in today I saw that I, of course, was still at zero, but, more importantly, that my competitors racked up four and two miles respectively. And they are both women. Not that this makes any difference. Except for the fact that I am losing to girls. They mean business. Big time.

I prepared myself for such an arduous challenge the best way I knew how. I exercised a total of zero times over the past six months. For all intents and purposes, I planned on making this challenge every thing it could be and more. Of course I didn't find out about this running accumulation thunderdome game of death until this past Friday, but I knew my lack of physical preparation would come in handy eventually. I have always believed that a man could run a marathon on sheer will and gritty determination, which still could be true, but that man is not me.

Not even close.

I chalked up one and a half miles today on feet that have not seen or heard from my sneakers in months. They haven't called or emailed my feet in the longest time. And my feet are so dang stubborn that they aren't willing to be the ones to make the first move. But through some back channels and some mutual acquaintances, they reconnected. It wasn't easy going until about a quarter mile in but once The Black Eyed Peas Now Generation came one the good ole Zune, they were friends again.

Afterwards, it felt like my calves exploded in my legs. Stairs were now daunting. My hamstrings taunted me with cramps and my lower back spasmed out. And I'm sure my back just wanted some attention because it did very little of anything during the run.

But, tomorrow I get to shade in one and a half boxes. I'm sure my two fellow runners will have more boxes to shade in as well. Putting even more space between us, but I have joined the class of runners once again.

It feels good to be back.


Heed the Dub