[stylist] Old Dogs and Old Tricks

Thu Jan 19 20:42:48 UTC 2012

Love it, and I have that one in my paraprosdokean phrases list.
Donna

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
Behalf Of Brad Dunsé
Sent: Thursday, January 19, 2012 1:52 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: Re: [stylist] Old Dogs and Old Tricks

One of my other favorites that comes up in my 
tags from time to time is: ""Knowledge is knowing 
a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad."

Brad

On 1/19/2012  12:13 PM Donna Hill said...
>.... and, I love this quote from your signature!
>"Unforgiveness is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to
>die." --Unknown
>Donna
>"Unforgiveness is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to
>die." --Unknown
>
>-----Original Message-----
>From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
>Behalf Of Brad Dunsé
>Sent: Wednesday, January 18, 2012 9:14 PM
>To: Writer's Division Mailing List
>Subject: [stylist] Old Dogs and Old Tricks
>
>This was a blog bit I wrote a year and a half
>ago. A friend is experiencing similar, so I
>looked it up and re-read it today. I tossed a
>couple fixes in it but it probably could use
>more. Nonetheless I thought to post it here as
>is, despite its length of 1470 words. Don't feel
>you need to scour over for detailed feedback. If
>something stands out as your read, great.
>
>Old Dogs and Old Tricks
>
>The morning routine is commanded by a series of
>whimpers and whines before I even get in a full
>cup of coffee. Standing before me with a stubby
>tail jittering back and forth, rear end swaying
>left and right, intense pupils staring out of
>brown eyes and a tongue dangling to the right
>side of the mouth over huge teeth, is my old dog Buster.
>
>Now Buster, surprising to most, is a she, not a
>he. When I decided on a liver and white English
>Springer spaniel pup so many years ago now, I was
>determined to call him Buster Brown
 you know as
>the old shoe company? The fact that I prefer
>female pups was no barrier for my naming
>conventions. So walking through the parks and
>neighborhoods with my wife to my left and pup
>in-between, calling out shortened nick names
>like, “Good Busty girl 
 That’s my Busty girl 

>Come here big busty girl,” pretty much jerks the
>heads of passersby as they dart widened eyes from
>wife to pup to wife to pup, wondering “Which one is he talking to?”
>
>The morning visual and audible ceremony is
>reminder I need to give her a morning dose of
>meds, or p I l l as I have to say, as to not
>evoke canine hysteria. She likes the p I l ls
>because she gets them wrapped in a small piece of
>bread followed by a small handful of little dog
>bone treats I scatter on the floor, to which I
>call out “Scatter treats
 scatter treats” OK so
>I’m a total dorkster when it comes to my pup.
>
>Now, Buster is nearly 14-years-old, has had a
>wonderful life having gone camping, canoeing,
>goose chasing, long walks, sightseeing, bird
>watching, and really has lived a good, full life.
>At fourteen however, her beer barrel body is
>riddled with fatty tumors, for over a year now
>has a fist-sized tumor in one lung, has tooth
>issues, takes one med to keep the tumor from
>growing too fast, takes another med to prevent
>coughing and wheezing attacks caused by fluid
>building up in the lung, and takes yet more meds
>for joint medicine to help the arthritis. Her
>back is swayed resembling an old 1900s barn soon
>to cave in from the center. Her front-leg limp is
>getting more pronounced, and her hip movement is
>very stiff. She doesn’t always come when you call
>because she is flat out tired. I question whether
>she actually hears half the time, and she’ll
>crash into your legs if there’s not enough lights
>on. But, she is able to scale up and down 13
>steps each time she goes out to do her job in the
>back yard. She still enjoys her special moments
>on a short walk, or blackened teeth from a good
>dose of spring dirt from rooting around for
>whatever she roots around for, as my wife and I
>chat while swaying to and fro on our backyard
>swing. To our surprise, as well as our
>veterinarian’s 
 as she puts it, “Buster just
>doesn’t know she is sick,” and continues to plod on without too much
>complaint.
>
>Now, Buster has had a long-time appetite for
>bread products. Giving it to her as a medication
>corn dog doesn’t help I’m sure, but I’m tired of
>putting my fingers down a saliva filled mouth 
,
>if I’d wanted that sort of excitement I’d have
>considered dentistry as a profession, so bread is
>the preferred dispensation methodology.
>
>Before you get misty eyed over this pup’s
>condition, she still is able to pull off her
>Houdini routine. What do I mean? Well, her
>biggest trick is her disappearing trick. No. She
>doesn’t disappear, however nice that might be at
>times of misbehaving, which seems to be
>increasing with age; it is the bread products that she can make disappear.
>
>After catching her standing at the counter top
>with her bowed rear-legs stretched to the ground
>and nose to the air, sniffing out items on the
>countertop, we began to be mindful of what was
>left on the counter, as in when one comes home
>from grocery shopping for instance?
>
>Having gone down stairs to do something, my wife
>had come down as well to put something away. We
>heard a big clickety clack, clickety clack on the
>floor upstairs. My wife and I simultaneously
>snapped heads towards each other and dashed for
>the stairs yelling “BUSTER!! Get out of there!”
>By the time we got up stairs the only thing we
>saw was a lip smacking smile on my dog, and an
>empty plastic bag of freshly bought hot dog buns
>on the floor, which disappeared in less than a
>minute! Do you know what bread products tend to
>do to an elderly dogs gastric activity? Let’s
>just say there’s no need to blame the dog;
>everyone in the house knows it was the dog.
>
>Who is excused from the Houdini trick? Not
>grandma, no. At my parent’s place where Buster
>can do no wrong, my elderly mom had just gotten
>home from shopping and I came up the stairs to
>find her in a Sherlock Holmes hunch looking all
>around the kitchen and hallway for something.
>
>“You looking for something mom?” I said.
>
>“Yeah. I thought I had bought some hot dog buns
”
>
>Oh no! I thought. “Well, umm where were they?”
>
>“I thought they were in the bag next to the
>pantry,” she mumbled as she scoured the floor.
>
>“Look for an empty bag mom; I think Buster may have found them.”
>
>“Hahahaha,“ she laughed
 “I don’t think so, I’ve
>been right here the whole time. I must have put them away somewhere”.”
>
>But nope. Sure enough, there lay the empty bag as
>evidence the disappearing bun trickster struck
>again, in broad daylight with people walking by!
>
>This happened again the day of my daughter’s
>going away get together, before she shipped off
>to Kyrgyz Republic for her Peace Corps
>assignment. An hour or so before the party
>started, I heard my sweet soft spoken daughter
>yelling, “Buster! No! Bad dog. What’s wrong with
>you! Get out of there. Let go of it! NOW!”
>
>Fortunately, our olfactories were spared by my
>daughter’s save, but the buns were yet a loss from toothy punctures.
>
>As I sat watching my pup this morning with head
>in bowl, lapping up water in her traditional
>triplet manner 
 slurp slurp slurp 
 slurp slurp
>slurp 
 slurp slurp slurp 
, legs quivering under
>her own body weight, back caving from weakening
>muscles, breathing through her nose as she drank,
>hearing a snap of mucus in her nostrils now and
>again as the effects of the tumor begins to
>become more evident; for just a second the image
>of a much more youthful Buster stood at the water
>bowl. I remembered all the wonderful times we’ve
>had together playing hide-n-seek with the treats
>as she’s sniff them out under me as I lay on the
>floor, making her think she called up birds with
>her barks as I pointed out a bird flying by
>saying “Call ‘em up pal
 call up some birds!” and
>making her balance a treat on her nose, her
>staring at it cross eyed until I’d say “OK pal,”
>then snapping her head in a circle and eat the
>treat out of thin air. Soon the shapely muscular
>image of my pup was replaced with the current,
>swaggered version, and I realize time is drawing
>near for us to say good bye to a very good
>friend. As I watched and listened to her drink,
>somehow all the mischievous antics and
>misbehavior didn’t seem to matter much anymore. I
>saluted her in my mind, honoring her maintenance
>of a good disposition between the groans at
>night, trying to get comfortable as she lays her
>tired self for a night’s unrest, and struggling
>on the 13th step on her way back up from her morning constitutional. .
>
>We can certainly learn from these canine life
>blessings we call pets
 all the things she’s done
>over the years that have upset or annoyed us seem
>to have little impact as the chances for her to
>repeat those behaviors are reduced daily, and the end draws closer.
>
>Why then, can’t we afford that right to family
>and friends now, instead of waiting until it’s
>too late? The trick my old dog Buster has taught
>me living her life, really unselfishly, despite
>the natural instinct to capitalize on
>opportunities when they present themselves, is
>being there unconditionally for others when she
>felt every which way but comfortable, and in her
>own trials, only wants to please and spend time
>with others, all the while hiding any discomfort
>until it is just not possible any longer.
>
>   Now
 wouldn’t that be an old trick for a few of us old dogs to learn?
>
>
>
>
>Brad Dunsé
>
>"Unforgiveness is like drinking poison and
>waiting for the other person to die." --Unknown
>
>http://www.braddunsemusic.com
>
>http://www.facebook.com/braddunse
>
>http://www.twitter.com/braddunse
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Brad Dunsé

"Music is to the soul, what water is to the body." --Unknown

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