Secret Trick

This post is just for doggies.

If you are a human, please stop reading.

Fellow Doggies, I discovered a secret trick on my walk today.

I discovered that if I have a big long stick balanced in my snout and I run between two humans walking side by side on a trail; then the two humans will suddenly wince in pain and start cursing.

This knowledge might come in useful if we decide we need to reign in the humans.

On past walks, I tried running between two trees with a big stick in my snout. That did not work as well.

Coco on Natural Law

In yesterday's post, Coco explained the natural order of things. In today's post, Coco enlightens us with insights on Natural Law.

Coco notes that she has spent many dog hours sitting by her master's side watching a steady stream of crime drama and crime reporting including Monk, CSI, Matlock, and the classic works of Perry Mason.

Coco has noticed that humans have a strange compulsion to accuse others of doing horrific things. She has also observed that, in most cases, humans get it wrong. This is especially true of that wicked Hamilton Burger on Perry Mason.

In recent posts Coco recounted how she has been accused of misdeeds. Not only has she been accused of eating brownies, Coco has been accused of eating spatulas, eating the last pages of a book, eating expensive eye wear, and pooping on the carpet! Humans live pathetic lives where they make one accusation after another.

What's a dog to do?

As humans are so keen on accusing each others of misdeeds, the powers that be have encouraged humans to develop a system of law that allows them to handle their accusations in a semi civilized manner.

Coco notes that one can derive a natural law by careful study of the natural order of things. In her study of the natural order, Coco concluded that doggie are wonderful and are of the highest order. Humans are mixed up and confused. They are capable of good and evil. They are a middle order. Cats are just plain evil.

In deriving a natural law from the natural order, one would note that doggies are wonderful. As such, doggies should be presumed innocent even when guilty.

Humans are capable of good or evil. They also like to make false accusations. Humans need a law that allows them to make all their petty little accusations, but the courts should only act when one can find a fairly solid basis for the accusation. For humans, one should derive a system of law where the human is presumed innocent until proven guilty.

As for cats. Cats are inherently wicked. Just being born a cat means guilt.

I mean, look at the way cats slink around the neighborhood in that feline fashion of theirs. They get up in those trees. They get on the counters and strange smells come from their kitty litter boxes. It all wreaks of guilt. So, we can assumes cats are guilty without wasting time figuring out their crime.

Natural law does lead to an interesting paradox. We've learned that doggies are inherently innocent; thus they should be treated humanely. Kitties are inherently wicked. There is nothing humans can do about that; so kitties should be treated humanely as well.

The great paradox is that humans should treat both kitties and doggies well.

Coco is wise. She knows that concept of Natural Law is an effort to draw up organizing principles for a society based on the nature of things, and that humans should treat things kindly.

The Natural Order of Things

Coco is wise. She says that there is a natural order to things and if a doggie carefully sniffs the wind, the doggie can determine this natural order.

For example, things in Coco's life include walks, sleeping, and food. Coco says that she loves sleeping but is always happy to get up for a walk; therefore a walk is of a higher order than sleeping. She says that she would prefer a bowl of kibbles to either a walk or sleeping; therefore, eating of of the highest order.

In the creation of things there is a natural order as well.

Doggies are clearly the most wonderful things on the planet (with the exception of puppies). Being full of wonderfulness, doggies clearly belong in the highest order of things.

Doggies are inherently good; therefore dogs are innocent and should not be accused of wrongdoing. For example, doggies should not be accused of eating the double recipe of brownies. Accusing a wonderful animal of such things is just plain mean.

Let's say, hypothetically, that a doggie did indeed eat the brownies, or the lasagna, or (while we are on the subject), let's say hypothetically that a doggie ate that really yummy batch of cinamon rolls that the humans bought for a special party.

If the doggie did in fact eat these things, the innate wonderfulness of the doggie would shed any moral guilt associated with the act. Therefore, the doggie should not be accused of wrongdoing.

The great creator gave humans free will. With free will, humans are capable choosing between good and evil. Since humans have free will, they sometimes choose good and sometimes choose bad. As such humans have have both good and evil.

So, here is the deal: Doggies are full of wonderfulness. This means that doggies (along with dolphins, polar bears and koalas) are among the highest order of creature on the planet.

Humans, with their free will, have some wonderfulness and some wickedness, Consequently, they are a lower level creature than the doggie.

Now, the creator, while creating the planet, had a whole big pile of leftover evilness. Evil is extremely toxic in concentrated form. Believing that dilution is the solution to pollution, the creator created cats and put just a little bit of evilness in each cat.

This explains why cats are evil, and why there are so many of them. It also helps explain why cats need chasing.

Coco is wise. She says that when one sniffs the wind, one can deduce the natural order of things. Doggies are highest, humans in the middle, and cats are evil. Cats need chasing.

Of course, when sniffing one must be careful not to confuse the natural order of things with the natural odor of things.

I mean, dead things found on the road side have a really strong odor. Poop gives off really strong odors as well. Having eaten both roadkill and poop, Coco has wisely deduced that it is the quality and not strength of odors that help one determine the natural order.

The Accusers

I've been watching the media circus surrounding the impeachment of Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich.

It is disturbing to watch the poor man tried and convicted in the press. He has such big puppy dog eyes, he has to be innocent.

I know what it feels like. I have big puppy dog eyes, but was once accused of something.

Brownies © BrianDaly

I was accused of eating a double recipe of Chocolate Brownies.

No-one saw me eat the brownies. It could have been any of the creatures in the house. There were three humans in the house that day. Why didn't anyone investigate them?

Why didn't they investigate any of the nefarious characters in the neighborhood?

I've spent hours sitting at the window watching all of the nefarious characters slink by the house. Nefarious characters are slinking around night and day. Anyone of the nefarious characters could have eaten the brownies.

I was essentially tried and found guilty by an all human jury based entirely on circumstantial evidence.

The circumstantial evidence was an empty pan and a spatula found under the table where I like to sit and chew bones.

That area is open. Anyone in the house could put the spatula there!

I was the first one in the house to realize that the double batch of brownies had been eaten. From experience, I knew that the humans would summarily accuse me of the misdeed. So, when they found the empty brownie tray and the spatula, I was sitting in the room with absolute most innocent looking eyes that a puppy dog could muster.

Now, I need to point out that all of their evidence was circumstantial. Yes, my tummy was bulging out of my ribs. But that could have been anything. If the pack really loved me, they would have looked no further than my innocent face, then passed off the missing double recipe of brownies as an unsolved mystery.

But, no, once those humans start in on their little witch hunts they start accusing everyone of everything. It is quite painful to watch.

They looked past my big innocent eyes toward my bushy tail that was slunk behind my hind legs. What body part would you believe. The big eyes that say I am innocent or the bushy tail that tells of guilt?

The humans did not read me my Miranda rights. They did not dust the brown tray for prints. They tried me and found me guilty on the spot.

To punish me, the humans poured hydrogen peroxide down my snout and exiled me to the porch. They sat there for a few minutes thinking that I would throw up brownie. But I didn't. The humans then went back inside the house and called the vet for more ideas.

When they came back, they found humongous pile of regurgitated brownies on one side of the porch, and an innocent looking doggie, whose tummy no longer bulged, sitting on the other.

The pile of regurgitated brownie could have been from anyone.

Anyway, I know what it's like to be accused of something, and feel deeply for those suffering the same plight.

In my final defense, I would like to put forward that the eater of the double recipe of brownies could not have possibly been me.

After cooking the brownies, the humans put the tray of brownies way far back on top of the microwave.

To get to the brownies, a dog would have to jump up on a counter then navigate to the far back side of the microwave.

That is the type of stuff cats do.

Why didn't they accuse any of the cats? I've seen a lot of suspicious looking cats in the neighborhood.

I would also like to point out that chocolate is poison to dogs. If I had eaten the double recipe of chocolate brownies, then I would have died a horrible painful death. I am still here; therefore, I must be innocent.

In conclusion, I am a wonderful sweet doggie. Brownies are yummy. Cats are evil, and humans should not be so quick to pass judgment.

Alternative Lifestyles

Some fans have noted that I live a rather odd, alternative lifestyle.

I happen to be the alpha dog in a pack of beta humans.

When I was a puppy, I dreamt of living in a much more conventional pack. For that matter, when I met my good friend Lily, we had plans of running off and starting our own pack.

Lily? Oh, I can't believe that I forgot to mention Lily.

Lily lives down the street. She is short and tan with really thin fur. Lily is the absolute most fun loving creature in the world.

When we first met, Lily and I ran and ran in circles. We tumbled over each other. Got up, and then ran in circles the other way.

It was heaven.

We wore the snow off Lily's front yard. We then ran up and down the street.

It was so dreamy. We ran until we collapsed on each other.

Anyway, Lily and I planned to run off and start our own pack. We figured that, when we got hungry, we just go out and take down bison, moose or any of the other free food walking around in the great big world.

Taking down a bison … How hard could it be?

I saw a deer once. It was outside the window. This was in the middle of a moon lit snowy night.

I figure the trick to taking down a deer is avoiding the big rack of antlers.

I barked at it.

Anyway, Lily and I planned to start a pack. Our plans got all flummoxed when we failed to coordinate our escape.

She got out on a day when my humans had accidentally locked the door; So, I wasn't able to escape.

Lily spent several days out. When she got back, her humans didn't let me play with her as often. They knew our plan was to run away together.

Lily's humans probably wouldn't be able to survive without Lily.

My humans are the same way. I don't know what they would do without me. They need an alpha dog to protect them.

Did I tell you that I barked at the deer?

This story happened dog years ago. I still dream of running away and spending my days in a world full of doggies. In doggie heaven, the the found food will be plentiful and won't give me tummy aches like that thing I ate at the rest stop.

I hear one of my humans clanking my dinner bowl. So, I've got to go.

The Walking Stick

Hello.

It's me again.

Coco.

You remember me. I am short, brown, fury.

I have a snout and a wagging tail.

Anyway, today I wanted to talk about the importance of the walking stick.

I take regular walks in the mountains.

The first thing I try to do on a walk is find a good walking stick.

A walking stick can help one maintain their balance and stay a fall.

I find that the best walking sticks are found in the middle of streams.

If there is a stick in a stream; I go absolutely gaga.

Most of the time, however, I find a stick by the side of the trail.

When I can't find a stick, I like to rip up a small tree by its roots.

My human tries to stop me when I do this. But I say a dog's gotta do what a dog's gotta do.

I find that the best sticks are about a foot longer than the dog is from tip of snout to tip of tail. A good stick will weigh about half the weight of the dog.

When I am totally stretched out, I am about five feet from the tippy tip of my snout to the tippy tip of my tail. I weigh about 40 lbs. So a perfect stick will be about 6 foot long and weigh twenty pounds.

Now, sticks are strange things. Some sticks have two ends and a middle. The sticks with a middle are really easy to carry. You just grab them in the middle, near the center of gravity, and you can run down the trail with the tail wagging.

Unfortunately, there are many sticks that don't have middles and these are really hard to carry. When a stick doesn't have a middle you have to pick it up by the end and contort yourself to offset the weight of the stick. This is really hard when the dog and stick weigh about the same amount.

Yes. It would be great if all sticks had middles. Then one could simply drop the stick and pick it up in the middle.

But they don't and dogs have to suffer.

Of course, sticks with centers don't solve all of the problems. On my favorite trail, there is a place where you have to go between two trees that are only three feet apart.

These are greedy trees that don't like doggies.

I will be running along happily with a 5 foot long stick in snout. I will run between the greedy trees … and, whammo, I've entered a dark space with twirling stars.

It is a real challenge. I've tried walking forward through the trees. I've tried walking with the stick backwards between the trees. There is just no way to get a five foot long stick between two trees that are three feet apart.

As in all of the difficult challenges in life, don't look to your human for help. Humans roll on the ground making that strange laughing noise that is unique to their species (and hyenas).

Speaking of humans, Humans don't want their dogs to have walking sticks. When I find a really good stick, my human will try tugging it from my snout, then will throw it in a random direction.

Here. Let me demonstrate.

I will put the stick at his feet.

There. He threw it.

I will run and get it and put it at his feet again.

See. Twice.

The human just throws the stick away. This time it went in a really deep snow bank.

What does he think I am?

This is really hard work. Let's try it again.

Come on human. Throw the Stick. Throw the stick.

See. The humans just do this over and over again.

I love a good stick. The stick makes the walk.

The Drop

People following my career know that I am a frisbee dog.

Fans have asked: "What is the hardest part of Frisbee?"

Most fans imagine that the leaping feet into the air to snag the Frisbee from the blue skies must be really hard.

The truth is that much of the spectacle of fetch is instinctual. In Frisbee, the dog hurls itself with abandon at a flying disc and becomes one with the Frisbee.

The spectacular part of Frisbee is not the hard part of Frisbee.

The really hard part is the drop.

And the drop is really hard.

After fetching the Frisbee, the dog is asked to run back to the human and drop the Frisbee in set up for the next Frisbee toss.

I find the drop to be emotionally challenging.

The drop involves giving the Frisbee back to the human.

Why should those humans get the Frisbee back? They already have so much and are always grabbing more with those clutchy little hands and opposable thumbs of theirs!

The drop is a struggle.

I know I want to catch the Frisbee again, but I don't want' to give it to the human.

It is an epic mental conflict.

I find that my snout gets all trembly and nervous during the drop. Often I simply want to shake the Frisbee furiously, or run away and drop the Frisbee far, far away from the human.

The funny thing is that when I finally release the frisbee, it is as if the disc was never in my snout.

I occasionally have had spurts where I fell into a rhythm with the human and we did a bunch of frisbee fetches and drops in a row. However, when the human isn't in perfect form (which happens more than I care to recall), I find that I have to shake and rip at the Frisbee.

A few dog years back, I met another Frisbee dog who had her human trained to put out its hand and take the Frisbee between fetches. It is always amazing to watch a well trained human.

My human is somewhat doltish. I doubt I could ever get him trained to reach out his hand; So I just drop the frisbee on the ground. It's a pity. He has to bend down and pick it up out of the dirt. My human's life is harder because he is so untrainable.

A good human is hard to find.

If my human was better trained, perhaps the drop wouldn't be so difficult. But, as it stands, the drop is the hardest part of Frisbee. Each drop takes a deep emotional toll.