Excused Lame

I’ve noted my distaste for how oblivious Toy dog owners are with respect to how their little charges affect larger dogs.  This attitude has now struck home.

My lovely bride had an accident three weeks ago while up in Dallas for dog shows.  She was at the hotel exercising Dutch when out of a side entrance burst a mob of little yappy Chinese Cresteds.  Dutch bolted toward the road and while Prudence was trying to reel him in on his long flexi-leash, the cord somehow became wrapped around the tip of the little finger on her right hand and severed it.

With 1) dog and 2) fingertip in hand she returned to the lobby and imperturbably requested the clerk call 911.  Luckily a fellow Borzoi exhibitor (also an RN) was in the lobby having breakfast; she stayed with Prudence until the paramedics came, got Dutch put back up in the van, secured Prudence’s valuables and called me.

Fortunately, Southwest has hourly flights between Houston Hobby (near our house) and Dallas Love Field (near the hotel).  I got the news at 7:30 AM, showered, dressed and got to the airport to catch the 9:00 flight, was at the hotel a little after 10:00 to take care of poor Dutch (who was in a tizzy) and clear the room out and got to Parkland Memorial Hospital by 11:00.  I also had to go to the show site to collect all of our equipment there.

Meanwhile at the hospital, Prudence got the bad news that reattaching her fingertip was not possible. Attempting to save as much of the little finger as possible, doctors joined the little finger and ring finger together and grafted skin from her arm to cover the fingertip. Even though she was assured by the doctors that the surgery would take an hour, recovery time another hour and she’d be released by mid-afternoon, she didn’t go into surgery until 2:00, surgery took four hours, recovery another five hours and another hour was wasted with hospital bureaucracy trying to get prescriptions filled.  John F. Kennedy actually is still alive, he’s just trying to get released from Parkland.

Finally at midnight we left for a five-hour drive home.  By the time we got down to Houston, I was literally having hallucinations.  Bless their hearts, the house dogs left only one small puddle despite being confined for 24 hours. For more than one reason, they were overjoyed to see us.

My lovely bride’s right hand and arm are bandaged to the elbow. She still has limited use of her other hand because the IV site the paramedics established in her hand infiltrated and instead of going into the vein, most of the fluid ran into the muscle so her hand is grotesquely swollen. There’s a five-inch scar on her arm from where they took skin for the graft.  The ventilation tube they used for the anesthesia was too big for her throat, so that was bruised too.  All the other medically-induced bruises scattered around her body were too numerous to mention. She’s spent the last three weeks at home; fortunately Vicodin has worked well. 

Next week, she’ll have to undergo another round of surgery to separate the two fingers.  In the meantime, I’ve been her nurse, chauffeur, cook, secretary and kennel help.

We’re trying to look on the bright side of this:  10% discount on manicures in the future!

A happy 1/1/11 (as well as 1/2/11 to 12/31/11) from the Hounds of Soyara:

• Diva (BISS Ch. Soyara’s Beautiful Dreamer)
• Alan (Ch. Soyara’s Singer of Songs Esar)
• Honey (Ch. Soyara’s Magnolia Honey Esar)
• Belle (Ch. Soyara’s Southern Belle Esar)
• Ali (Ch. Soyara’s The Force of Destiny)
• Smudge (Ch. Soyara’s Smoke and Mirrors)
• Sarge (Ch. Soyara’s Ace of Spades)
• Tess (Ch. Soyara’s Cunning Little Vixen)
• Knight (GCh. Soyara’s Sir Agravaine Ex Libris)
• Stanley (Soyara’s Gandalf of Dana Dan)
• Chance (Soyara’s Against All Odds)
• Dutch (Ch. Soyara’s The Flying Dutchman)
• Ilya (Soyara’s Ilya Murometz)
• Carmen (Soyara’s Carmen Fantasy)
• Aida (Soyara’s Celeste Aida)

Plus Talker the Whippet and Fluffy (God, what a name!) the cat.

I went to get a haircut at lunchtime today and, as the car was low on gas, decided to get it filled up at the adjacent Kroger fuel stop.

In the usual course of things I prefer not to use Kroger gas to fill my tank.  One reason is that I prefer to leave the 10¢ a gallon discount for my lovely bride to use in the van.  As she had taken my car to the airport and I had the van, I decided to take advantage of the discount; besides, the windows were opaque and needed a cleaning.  The second, more sinister reason I prefer not to use Kroger is the clientele.  Today’s debacle was an illustration.

As usual, I pulled up behind someone who was just starting the refilling process.  Having finished a leisurely cell phone call, a female with the approximate shape of a sewer lid (he said ungallantly) ponderously debouched from the command center of her SUV and waddled over to the pump to fill her tank.  Bewildered by the extreme complexity of the payment process, she stared at the screen a good long while, pulled at her lipid-filled chin after several unsuccessful attempts to use a plastic card and eventually gave up and laboriously tottered over to the kiosk for assistance.  Much time passed.

Eventually, Our Little Genius made her way back to her vehicle, managed to open the gas cap and put the nozzle in.  A slow dawn of realization appeared on her stupified face when nothing happened.  Several more attempts yielded no greater success.  An attendant, no more svelte than she, had to be called over to help the decerebrate driver.

Not being the patient sort in the first place, by this time I was beside myself.  Luckily, before blood vessels in my brain went off like fireworks, another pump opened up and I quickly zipped over.  I do not know the dénouement of Madame Einstein’s struggles with 30-year-old technology.  Perhaps she drove off and was plowed under by a freight train she failed to observe at one of the nearby grade crossings; we can only hope.  My only concern in that case is that she might leave behind spawn as dim-witted as her.

November 3rd is St. Hubert’s Day, named after the patron saint of hunt and hound.  The eldest son of the Duke of Aquataine, Hubert was addicted to hunting but after the death of his wife in childbirth, he renounced his secular pomps and privileges and became a priest, later Bishop of Liège.

Goodthinkers have largely exterminated the hunt in Britain and Europe, but happily among us barbaric Americans the tradition continues.  The difference is largely that in this country the purpose of the hunt is not necessarily to catch the fox; the ones that are caught are usually old or sick.  Some hunters boast that they’ve never been on a kill.

St. Hubert’s Day (or, sometimes, Thanksgiving Day) also marks the Blessing of the Hunt in the mid-Atlantic states.  In a formal ceremony, hunters, horses and hounds are honored and blessed for a safe hunt.

To Austin this weekend for the Travis County KC shows.  On Sunday we had a 9:10 judging time; with morning chores, a three-hour drive, set-up and grooming time it meant waking up at 3:30 AM.  No fun at all!

Regardless of the time, we were happy we went.  On Saturday Dutch was Best of Breed under Anthony DiNardo, good for 2 points.  On Sunday, the Beeg Boy was Winners Dog for a point while his cousin Knight was Best of Breed under Nikki Riggsbee to collect his third major toward his Grand Championship.  Too many heavy hitters in the Group ring to do anything there but we have to be pleased with the results.  Dutch now has 13 points and both majors; he also showed extremely well, a tribute to my lovely bride’s work with him at handling class.

My lovely bride is judging next weekend at Fort Wayne, Indiana, then we have shows in Houston the week after.  Fingers crossed that Big Red can finish.

Ladies and Gentlemen, we think we have a winner for the 2010 Walter Duranty award:  the Associated Press for this story:

The party in Pyongyang stretched into Monday as North Koreans took the day off to celebrate a major political anniversary and to revel in the unveiling of leader Kim Jong Il’s heir-apparent, son Kim Jong Un.

Families packed baskets with food and liquor they received from the government in honor of the occasion and picnicked along the Taedong River and on scenic Moran Hill. Others headed to an amusement park, filling the air with screams as they braved a serpentine rollercoaster and rammed one another in bumper cars.

The scenes of revelry in North Korea’s showcase capital contradicted the austerity and shortages normally associated with this reclusive country of 24 million, and this was no ordinary weekend…

North Korea, with few natural resources and arable land, has struggled to feed its people since natural disasters battered its agricultural industry in the 1990s and aid from the former Soviet bloc dried up.

Natural disasters and lack of aid, eh?  The despotic and maniac policies of North Korea’s communist leaders had nothing to do with it?

As on most major holidays, every North Korean got a special gift from the government. Pak said he and his family took the beer, Korean soju liquor, meat, fish and snacks in their bundles to Moran Hill for a picnic — a popular holiday tradition.

Families were also gathering under the willow trees along Taedong River, where they had a view of some of Pyongyang’s grandest monuments, including Juche Tower, the palatial People’s Study Hall and the massive bronze statue of Kim Il Sung that overlooks the city…

Three generations of one family feasted on beef stew, dumplings, tempura, blood sausage and kimchi, the spicy fermented cabbage that is Korea’s most famous condiment. Further down the riverbank, a group of friends sang and clapped as one woman gave an impromptu dance performance before collapsing into giggles.

Down by the riverside, fathers were teaching their sons how to shoot at a miniature shooting range, while others clustered around a rattling foosball table. Others jumped into paddleboats that dotted the waterfront.

Jo Hyang Mi, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, took a break from a heated game of badminton to roll up her pant legs. Jo said she, too, watched Sunday’s military parade on TV.

“I was so happy to see Kim Jong Un after he was elected vice-chairman of the military commission” of the Workers’ Party’s Central Committee, she said. “I feel happy and full of conviction knowing that our country is powerful and that our strength comes from the leadership of our Great Leader Kim Jong Il and from Kim Jong Un.”…

Smart woman!  Some secret policeman may be reading this story.

As the sun set, the lights went on at the Triumph Children’s Park, an amusement park just a stone’s throw from the Arch of Triumph where Kim Il Sung made a historic speech just days after founding the Workers’ Party in 1945.

The park pulsated with neon, and tree branches laced with small lights gave the fair a festive air. Groups of friends posed for photos, and families crowded into fast food joints selling fried chicken, burgers, Belgian waffles and soft-serve ice cream cones.

Children raced around from ride to ride, lining up for bumper cars, a rollercoaster, a levitating pirate’s ship and other fun fair standards.

One little boy begged his mother to let him on just one more ride — a familiar plea all the world over.

Today everyone goes back to their daily meal of stone soup.  Shostakovich said about the finale of his Fifth Symphony, ““The rejoicing is forced, created under threat…It’s as if someone were beating you with a stick and saying ‘Your business is rejoicing.’ And you rise, shaky, and go marching off, muttering, ‘Our business is rejoicing, our business is rejoicing.’”  No one could blame the people of North Korea for enjoying the tiniest respite from the oppression and starvation that is their ordinary lot.  But why couldn’t the AP have added that perspective?

La Stupenda, bel canto soprano Dame Joan Sutherland, has died at 83.

Up north of Houston this weekend, near Bush Intercontinental Airport, for the Greater Humble Area Kennel Club shows (“Humble” is always pronounced “‘Umble”).  We’re trying to get Dutch finished by the time Westminster closes to try to get him in.  With an entry of 1-2-0-1 there was only one point available this weekend and the Beeg Boy had to go Best of Winners both days to do it.

Luckily, he did.  On Saturday, Shelley Hennessey gave Dutch Best of Winners and Best of Opposite and on Sunday William Bergum gave him Best of Breed.  Dutch now has 10 points and both majors.  Fingers crossed for the next six weeks.

The movie Secretariat opens today starring Diane Lane as Penny Chenery, Big Red’s owner.  Just to give readers (if any) not old enough to remember this remarkable horse, here’s the CBS broadcast of the 1973 Belmont Stakes, with Chic Anderson making the call:

Quite possibly this is one of the most amazing achievements in sports.  Secretariat won by an astounding 31 lengths, breaking the Belmont mark of 25 lengths set in 1943 by Count Fleet.  His time for the 1 1/2 mile race was 2:24, shattering the old record by over two seconds; it has never been surpassed.  From the time when Secretariat broke Sham in the back stretch, none of the rest of the field gained an inch on him.

For some, though, a celebration of excellence – even a heart-warming one – is too dangerous a subject for the bien pensants, for whom AmeriKKKa is forever a dark and bloody land.  Take one Andrew O’Hehir, writing in Salon, a publication which I for one did not know was still in business.  Some excerpts from his unintentionally hilarious review:

“Secretariat” is such a gorgeous film, its every shot and every scene so infused with warm golden light, that I began to wonder whether the movie theater were on fire. Or my head. But the welcoming glow that imbues every corner of this nostalgic horse-racing yarn with rich, lambent color comes from within, as if the movie itself is ablaze with its own crazy sense of purpose. (Or as if someone just off-screen were burning a cross on the lawn.)…

“Secretariat” is a work of creepy, half-hilarious master-race propaganda almost worthy of Leni Riefenstahl, and all the more effective because it presents as a family-friendly yarn about a nice lady and her horse…

Although the troubling racial subtext is more deeply buried here than in “The Blind Side” (where it’s more like text, period), “Secretariat” actually goes much further, presenting a honey-dipped fantasy vision of the American past as the Tea Party would like to imagine it, loaded with uplift and glory and scrubbed clean of multiculturalism and social discord…

Hollywood has finally woken up (a few decades late) to the enormous consumer power of the Christian market, and given all the namby-pamby Tinseltown liberalism right-wingers love to complain about, it’s about time. But it’s legitimate to wonder exactly what Christian-friendly and “middle-American” inspirational values are being conveyed here, or whether they’re just providing cover for some fairly ordinary right-wing ideology and xenophobia.

Dear me!  My mind must not be as keenly developed as that of Mr. O’Hehir.  How could I miss all the subtexts wherein a movie about a racehorse leads directly to some sort of bluegrass Kristallnacht?  But really, what do you expect of Salon, which took pride im publishing “forbidden thoughts” about 9/11? 

The only kind of story acceptable to the O’Hehirs of this world would be one in which Secretariat outwits a conspiracy of supersecret government agents and corporate assassins to triumph at Belmont, reveals that he’s actually gay and walks off into the sunset to struggle on behalf of female and minority thoroughbreds.

Awwwww, our dear President, the Rt. Hon. Abraham Delano Fitzgerald Mahatma Obama, exhausted by the rigors of office as well as untold rounds of golf, says he needs some rest:

Some of baseball’s notably rare events:

• Perfect game (20 times)
• Four home runs in a game (15 times)
• Unassisted triple play (15 times)
• Hitting a natural cycle (single, double, triple, home run in that order; 14 times)

In a single game, two of these extraordinary events occurred.  On June 3, 1932 the Yankees played the Philadelphia Athletics at Shibe Park.  In the Yankees 20-13 victory, Lou Gehrig hit four home runs while Tony Lazzeri hit for a natural cycle.  Quite a game! However, it was overshadowed by the announcement that John McGraw was retiring as manager of the New York Giants after 30 years at the helm.

Illegitimate reasons to oppose Cordoba House:

• Proximity to the WTC site
• Questionable funding
• Questionable purpose

Legitimate reasons to oppose Cordoba House:

• Lack of diversity
• Large carbon footprint
• Potential for releasing asbestos
• Disruption of pigeon migration patterns
• Endangered bedbug species found on site

Where else but the New York Times?

To the Editor:

Ross Douthat uses a reasonable tone and a pleasing logical symmetry — “two understandings of America, one constitutional and one cultural” — to craft what is a horrifying apologia for all that is worst in American culture.

Bigotry and xenophobia have never been the forces that helped “ethnic divisions to melt into a general unhyphenated Americanism.”

On the contrary, most immigrants have come here with a strong desire to assimilate, and it has been the hurdles thrown up by “the second America” that forced them to band together into ethnocentric self-defense groups, just as it has been our Constitution that finally guaranteed them their place in American society.

Should we also believe that the Jim Crow laws helped the freed slaves assimilate into white America? Or that the detention camps helped secure the loyalty of Japanese-Americans?

The opposition to a mosque (really a cultural center) at ground zero (really two blocks away) is not the legitimate expression of some second America that is “cultural” rather than “constitutional” — it is the American underside, the America of the Klan and of McCarthy, and it is to be repudiated, not excused.

Dear me!  Opposition to an Islamic center (or mosque) near the WTC site isn’t just wrong, it’s illegitimate, it’s Jim Crow, it’s the relocation camps, it’s the KKK, it’s Tail-Gunner Joe! Apart from Nixon, did we miss anyone?

Big Dutch goes Best of Breed at the Beaumont Kennel Club show, handled as always by my lovely bride.

Dutch was the subject of a recent set-to between me and my spouse:

Me:  “I had a terrible dream last night.”

My lovely bride: “Oh, what?”

Me:  “You’ll be angry with me if I tell you.”

MLB:  “That’s silly.  How can I be angry about a dream?”

Me:  “This one, you will.”

MLB:  “Oh, go ahead and tell me.”

Me:  “I gave Dutch away.”

MLB:  “You mean, gave him away to a top handler who is going to make him Number 1?”

Me:  “No, gave him away as in ‘free to good home.’  Then when I changed my mind I couldn’t find him anywhere.”

MLB:  “OUT!  GET OUT!”

Me:  (Exit, pursued by a cast-iron frying pan)

As anyone not living at the bottom of a coal mine knows, Alex Rodriguez of the New York Yankees has hit 599 home runs in his illustrious if controversial career and the world breathlessly awaits No. 600.  And waits and waits.  But No. 600 is a long time gestating, 43 at bats so far since his last homer on July 22nd.

Last night, I was annoyed while watching the Mets v. Braves game that ESPN continually cut away from an interesting and important game so that we could see A-Rod try to hit one of his special baseballs (given to the umpire when he comes to bat) out of the park.  Frankly my desire is that Mr. Rodriguez not hit another home run until, say, mid- to late September.  By that time we’ll be so sick of his quest and so sick of him that no one will want to see another Yankees game – or, indeed, another Yankee – for another ten years.