A number of the animals in the subdivision have approached me recently, and requested that I consider becoming the resident Wind Meadows World Teacher , Dog Division.  They feel that my evolution into a blog dog might provide me with some keen insight into the proper pathway that a dog should take in his or her's pursuit of buried bones, slow footed rabbits, and transcendent cosmic certainties. A guru might provide an example to follow. She might have already traversed the paths that lead to such delicacies and assuredness; and might be able to elevate her fellow dogs, lower animals, and such to a higher plane of existence through the spiritual force of her special connection with Nature.  I'm giving the proposal serious consideration, since I don't have anything else on the agenda today, or in the next couple of years for that matter.

My guruship, if it does transpire, would be quite heady.  I would have to avoid the temptation to be controlling, egotistical, self centered.  My years of practice at acquiring those traits would be wasted.  A proper guru must believe in some particular pathway in order to inspire confidence in her followers, or so it seems to me.  He or she must have some trick hidden in a rabbit hole somewhere, or some unworldly charisma that has an hypnotic effect on the masses, in order to accomplish his guru-ish mission.  I'm inordinately confident, I possess above average charisma, I'm darn cute; but I'm not sure I have the type of qualifications a dog would need to lead the world down the proper spiritual path.  I would probably get sidetracked by my love of food. Gurus need to be ascetics, no?

After careful canine consideration, I've decided to decline my fellow dog's offer to become an earthly dog deity.  I prefer my present  life of leisure, freedom and fine dining. I can't be cooped up in a crate of someone else's design.  My decision to decline will impress the dogs, they'll think I'm too modest to accept, humble, a quiet leader as opposed to some political type. That will earn me even more respect in their eyes, and they'll probably look at me as some sort of new laid back type of guru.  They'll undoubtedly start following me around, and listening to my every bark with rapt attention.  What to do?  I guess I'm just destined to be a Wind Meadows god.  Oh sorry, I mean a humble Wind Meadows dog.  


Buffy,

Dogs are not the species you would want to bank your life on; if you needed to carry out an intricate, multilayered plan in order to achieve riches, or save life and limb. There's some deficit in our ability to follow algorithms ( or to know what the heck an algorithm is in the first place).  As I've become more perceptive, and started reading human mystery stories, I've come to admire the human species ability to premeditate, enact and accomplish amazingly detailed blueprints in their efforts to attain certain goals. The fact that those goals are often somewhat "evil" ( at least in mystery stories), is somewhat disappointing but these novels are only fiction and don't reflect the realities of actual human existence.  Right?

When a dog wakes up in the morning, he seldom has a plan cooked up to help guide him through the day.  He remembers something about food arriving in the bowl, water being provided, and possibly heading outside for a spell.  Aside from that he doesn't have any meetings to get to, any conference calls noted on his cell phone, or any chores to attend to that might need to be accomplished.  This deficit in planning works to our advantage at times. There's plenty of time for naps, spontaneous bouts of running around the house, gnawing on bones and eating. We don't have to wait for any pre-arranged siesta time in order to catch a snooze, or any lunch break in our work day in order to chow down. Doggin it has its advantages.

I guess human children often get to experience this doglike state of nature during their summers off from school. They are able to devote their  day to socializing, eating, hiking and hijinks.  Alas this unplanned, natural state of animal grace often succumbs to parental organization and stratification of the young child's day.  Humans have that nagging obligation to "achieve" through work and practice. You're not happy just winging it.  It's what makes you great and accomplished, but sometimes what is gained in one direction is lost in another. No?

As a dog who has begun to get glimpses of what it is like to be human, I often find I want the best of both worlds.  I would like to spend certain days in idyllic animal ignorance.  Then their are other times when I would like to have the ability to plot, organize and implement elaborate rituals, that eventually lead to lavish steak dinners with delicious sides. (Hopefully not ala carte).  I think I might go down to the pond and get my gang of highly motivated dogs together.  We'll see if I can devise a plan to grow this motley crew of canine characters into a well disciplined corporate like creation; dedicated to the achievement of high goals and superior dining.  First of all, does the butcher keep his door locked at night?

Buffy
President
Buffy's Gang Inc.

Sometimes in a moment of reverie I hearken back to treasured memories of my days as a young pup; when each moment was seized by my mind (and my paws or jaws) with gusto.  I was eager for new textures, tastes and colors that would stimulate my senses and innervate my developing brain.  It's amazing how objects and experiences that seem somewhat mundane and simple now had such meaning and impact back when I was young. I don't know what feeling and emotion is engendered in your psyche when you walk down the sidewalk and see a particularly well developed stick laying on the ground.  Nowadays in the midst of such an encounter, I might not even notice all of the possibilities nascent in the moment.  I must be getting old. It's not that I've totally forgotten how to play, or that I can no longer appreciate the exquisite taste of woody oak pulp with just a hint of terra mixed with my saliva.  On a good day all of those potentials still present themselves; and as I walk along the path and a nicely toned stick comes into view I pounce on it, its particular flavor fills my mouth and I lift it in triumph. Head held high I take the lead and the spring in my step returns from wherever it went to.  Sometimes it just takes a good stick to brighten your day and make you feel young again.  If anyone ever asks you why it is that you look so young and playful today, and how it is that you seem to be prancing quite lightly on this particular afternoon just tell them to stick it.  In the event they don't detect the obvious good will in your inflection, I advise you to be ready to run. And maybe keep your favorite big club of a stick nearby.

I may have opened a can of worms, (a delicacy in the dog world) when I told my neighborhood doghouse owners association about my readings on the French and American Revolutions.  This is not standard intellectual  fare for the canine crowd, but in my role as senior, sage, sapiential French Standard Poodle of the neighborhood, it is my duty to provide my fellow dogs with philosophical underpinnings to the impulses they might be experiencing at any given moment.  This often results in me just making stuff up, but this is what a philosopher does, no? 

When dogs congregate, we often bark about our living conditions; our food, housing, what types of cars we drive in.  This comparison often results in hurt feelings for some dogs, as their human masters vary in the time, attention and material goods that they provide to their pet dogs.  Some dogs have the run of the house, others are kept in small cages, others in kennels or crates.  Great disparity is often the stuff of "revolution" and I'm afraid I may have provided a spark to the kindling yen for freedom that all dogs possess, when I told the dogs about the French Revolution rallying cry, "Storm the Bastille."  Pretty soon the dogs were all in a huff; panting, barking, feverishly exhorting me to take on the role of general in our new dog "revolution."  Down with cages, power to the pups, fidos for freedom.  Barking "Storm the Bastille" over and over again, the dogs maintained their frenzy for some time until I was able to settle them all down, and we congregated down by the pond to plot our strategy.

Now that I had riled up the pup populace, I had to find a way to channel their energy in a positive direction.  Sometimes it's best to let sleeping dogs lie. The French and American revolutions were human endeavors, and many died and sacrificed in the cause of "freedom."  Freedom is good, but so is a warm bed, food and shelter. If the dogs revolted and obtained "freedom" they might end up out in the cold, or worse yet in some shelter that resembles the Bastille more closely than their individual restricted spaces do. I told them to go home and contemplate their situations, consider their relationships with their masters, and think about the future that might be if all fidos are freed from human servitude.  We would meet again the next day.

It was a more subdued crowd that gathered on the banks of the pond the next day.  Each dog related a story of his or her's masters kindness, they spoke of how good the food was last night, of the tummy rub they had received that morning.  The revolutionary fervor had abated. It was replaced by a new appreciation for the limits of ideology. Freedom might be an absolute concept to some in the human world, but to us dogs it's all relative. The young dogs were the most enthusiastic supporters of freedom, they have yet to experience the limitations that real life imposes on high falutin ideas.  The old dogs knew better, and realized how good the average dog has it compared to the "free" undomesticated animals in the wild.  I guess I must be more circumspect when I explain my "intellectual" ideas to the dogs of the neighborhood.  Ideas are great to talk about, but real life is another thing altogether. The grass isn't always tastier on the other side.

Buffy 
French Philosopher Laureate Dog 

Within the parameters of a dog's everyday obligations and responsibilities, one of our chief roles is providing continuous entertainment to our family; and also to any other bystanders or onlookers who might benefit from our daily display of  disarming innocence, unrelenting rascalism, and perpetual energy.  We exhibit these characteristics most profoundly in our early days, in the puppy stage.  To the enthusiastic observer, it appears that the canine candidate, residing in the "puppy" stage of his or her development, has been uniquely designed and cosmically created to surreptitiously, irresistibly, insinuate his or herself into the heart strings of his actual or potential human host in an indelible manner.  It may be a byproduct of the "selfish gene " theory, or perhaps just a quirk of nature, but someway, somehow the body language, the photogenicity, the endearing personality of the puppy strikes a chord in the human psyche that makes us laugh, makes us smile, that just flat out entertains us! As a result we are taken in, we fall in love, nature takes its course, a new family is born.  The puppy takes a bow, and is rewarded with chow!

The puppy's act is somehat idiosyncratic, at times a bit eccentric, but ultimately egocentric.  He or she has only her looks and her wits to utilize in her quest to make it in the world.  Pups are much like humans in this regard! You need to capitalize on your talents; accentuate the positive, and minimize the negative until such time as you've made the sale. We do this with our unpredictability. Pups often zig when you expect them to zag.  We do it with our pratfalls. We often act amazed when we actually catch the tail we are chasing, and we  complete the circular circuit with a look of shock.  The puppy entertains herself, and in so doing puts on a show for the human audience. It's a win-win siruation.  Humans have their movie stars and rock stars ; their Gagas and Garlands, their Coldplays and Clooneys.  These person type animals  might put on a great act and be entertaining for a short period of time. Perhaps I'm biased, but when it comes to natural, long term effortless entertainment you can't beat the efforts of your loyal, loving  family dog.  And now, on with the show!

Human attempts at entertainment. Not bad! Good production values. Love that Toto!

Entertaining puppies at play! No training needed. Natural, unforced.

 Just as a dog buries bones in the backyard, or hides tennis balls under the living room couch, my dog Buffy left behind a previously hidden computer file that contains a journal of her observations and musings going back to when she was very young. Unknown to all of us, Buffy's special perspective began its development when she was still just a pup. Her journal demonstrates the evolving psyche of a not so Standard Poodle, as she attempts to reconcile her canine nature with the stirrings of human intelligence within. 
Journal Entry June 2008

Now that I'm a little older, I'm able to have a better perspective on my formative years; those years of growth and change; constant, constant change. Both body and mind had to assimilate and recreate, my notion of myself was fluid, floating, sometimes flailing.  Often I felt as if I was alien, alone, separate from the crowd. Perhaps a visitor from another planet. I didn't feel as if I fit in with the majority of the pack.  Dogs experience this intense hormonal period in years one to three. It was during this time that I began to turn on the television when the master was gone, to paw through his books, listen in on the family conversations. 

All of this new human type knowledge was enlightening, fascinating, I felt I had to tell the other dogs about it.  I was on the scent of truth, surely they would want to share in my revelations.  Strangely, they were more interested in chasing balls and rabbits, brawling, barking and biting.  This made me feel more "different" than usual, more human than dog at times, and I became even more enamored with my human family.  When they were unavailable, I sought company with other "alien" types that I encountered in the realm of my own and other's imaginations.  I'm thankful to these fellow interstellar, intraimaginary travellers for their contributions to my growth, and for the company they provided along the way. They and I travel to the beat of a different drum.  It's okay that way I've found; but it takes age and earned wisdom to know that things will turn out alright.

During adolescence, the brain is bathed in new chemicals, hormones which alter perception. It's difficult to find solid ground beneath you. If you find you need advice on your own alienation, your own search for yourself, I recommend bonding with your family as I did.  It's great when they scratch you behind the ears.  They offer love and acceptance; two entities that can solve a lot of a dog's, or a human's problems.  If they're unavailable, there are others who have felt out of place at one time or another in their lives.  They might be able to help too, as they reveal how they dealt with being in their own State of Alien Nation. 

Sometimes I wonder how it is that I got this great position with the Kastenholz's; as family dog, chief entertainer, and supervisor of the boundaries of my backyard.  I didn't apply for the position, it wasn't merited by any accomplishments on my resume, in fact I didn't even meet my family until the day I was picked up by them from the breeder, at the tender age of 4 months old.  I guess I have to thank fate, the gods, God, nature, dumb luck, or all of the above for my good fortune.  Or maybe it all boils down to the C-Factor, that one attribute that a creature might possess that brings rewards above all others. Sometimes success in this life all boils down to being totally, unbearably, unfathomably CUTE! I know it has been a great boon in my life, to have the power of the C-Factor at my disposal. I promise to wield it responsibly and wisely, in the best interests of dogs and humanity.  

                                    

She was probably too furry and black to be called a ray of sunshine,
But our dog Buffy was a light in our lives for the last twelve years.
I know many dog owners claim that they have,
Or may have once had, the best dog there ever was.
But in the case of our dog Buffy, this claim just might be true.

Buffy fulfilled the role that dogs were created for.
Loyal companion, furry friend, watchdog,
She was always there ready to serve our family.
Whether it was a hearty bark that was called for,
Or just a warm presence to comfort us in time of sickness,
Buffy was always on call.

Buffy wasn't perfect.
Maybe she had a few idiosyncracies.
She could be a little imperious at times.
She might demand attention when you're trying to type
On the computer by nudging your arm repeatedly.
Or order that you throw the tennis ball for her
When you're trying to watch a TV show.
I'm not sure if all dogs require cheese on their food,
Or chippies as a staple of their diet.
Maybe Buffy was a little strange in some ways.
But to us, that only added to her charm.

Dogs like Buffy unite a family in some way.
They let us exercise the love in our hearts.
Their innocence arouses our compassion.
Buffy let us display our affection without fear of rejection,
Express without shame our inner child.
When we were scattered, she brought us together
With the thought of her waiting back home
And of the wagging tail that would greet us on our return.
Somehow she could do all of this without trying.
She was a natural that way.

Her special places; the tall grass, her walking path, the pond
Will miss Buffy's presence this summer.
Her pals Riley and Holly may wonder where she's gone to.
Who will they run and shadow box with?
They'll look at our house as they walk by,
Waiting for her to come out and play.
I wonder if they'll understand.

Buffy's spirit has returned to Nature.
But those who were enchanted by her, captured a part of her essence.
And we will hold it in our hearts and minds as we go forward.
Within each of us she will continue to work her magic,
And she'll be that ray of sunshine in our lives,
That she was, and always will be.

Dogs and the moon; we have a complicated relationship. Wolves, dogs and other animals evolved under the influence of the moon.  It watched over us at night, exerted its subtle influence on our tides, and used its reflected light to guide the hunt of our nocturnal ancestors.  In mythology, Hecate, Greek goddess of the moon kept the company of dogs.  In Norse mythology, a pair of dogs chased the sun and the moon, bringing on the alternation of night and day. My own interest in the moon was stimulated when I heard that it was made of cheese, a claim that was eventually refuted by Neil Armstrong; though I'm not sure if I trust the government on this, and would like to taste it myself.  Do wolves and dogs bay at the moon because we have some mysterious, intimate co-dependent relationship with it?  If I approach the question with self introspection, I find the answer to be no.  We're not really baying at the moon. Wolves just happen to point their heads upward when they howl at night because their sounds carry farther if they project their song out into the night sky. The acoustics are better, and allow us to communicate up to 6 miles in the forest.  Our howls provide other wolves in our pack with information on our size, location, the progress of the hunt.  Sometimes we just feel like singing.  Did the moon inspire all of this behavior?  Not that I know of. Dogs and wolves aren't poets, or songwriters.  At least that's true for most of us. Still there's always a chance that the tidal pull causes minute changes in our chemistry, that influences our biology, which changes our psychology and then our behavior. The moon has been associated with many moods; with lunacy and looniness, with sadness and irrationality, but also with gaiety and dancing. Who knows what nefarious influences the moon may exert on unsuspecting creatures of the night.  Wolfmen, insanity, insomnia and depression; this is the dark side of the moon.  Blame it on midnight.  Shame on the Moon.

The moon sometimes imposes a particularly dramatic presence in the sky above.  Is it boasting of its power over us?
It's reflection on the water has inspired meditation and song. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=flm4xcOyiCo

Blue Moon, not a bad beer, or so I hear.  Of course dogs don't indulge in such things. Okay, maybe once in a blue moon. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXb2a0WQek4

The silvery moon speaks of gaiety, mirth and courtship.  It's a famous song, on the lighter side as moon songs go.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqPFyCTYGtU

The Wolfman legend.  The full moon brings out the best in some humans.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bA2m7KYqG5s

Dancin in the Moonlight, I'll meet you after midnight.  I suggest that these dancers keep a wary eye out for wolves.
On the other hand, maybe the howls are providing the music for their gyrations. It's a marvelous night for a moondance!  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I-kLeQkJRxU

Have you ever been followed by a Moonshadow? Sounds kind of creepy to me!  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UtgXus3eiII

Old Devil Moon, deep in your eyes, blinds me with love.  The moon has many influences, beware of its bewitching effect!   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gvZVusVN9Ug&feature=related Sinatra Devil Moon

Sincerely Submitted,
Buffy
Code Name Moondoggie