15, today

Bonnie spends two or three hours everyday walking into walls, one after another after another. Bump, bump, crash. Bump, bump, crash. When she dies, the first thing I’m going to do is to wash smudges off walls. Until then, why bother? It would be like raking leaves if leaves never stopped falling. I’ve heard people talk about how well dogs adjust to being blind. Bonnie became blind at 13, turned 15 today, and the adjustment has all been downhill. I doubt that this dog (who once figured out for herself that could carry a ball and Frisbee at once by putting the ball in the bottom of the Frisbee) has the mental capacity to adjust, although it’s hard to tell given that she’s not only totally blind, she’s 90% deaf. There isn’t a day goes by but what Peggy and I don’t wish that she would die already.

Nothing ever brought us more joy or more sorrow than Bonnie. I blame throwing tennis balls to her with a throwing stick, hard, hundreds of times a week for more than a decade for ruining my shoulders. I threw those balls because she needed the exercise. Now, I’m mad at the universe for making me suffer for the rest of my life because I tried to do right by my dog. Yet, I must admit that I mostly enjoyed our ballgames—as well as hiking together and her running alongside my bike and, oh yeah, camping (except for when she rolled in something). 

People were forever stopping to visit as I threw her ball across a drainage canal and she ran to a pedestrian bridge to cross the canal for it. They would say something about how fast she was, and then she would shift into yet another gear and go even faster. Sometimes, ten or fifteen dogs would gather in this same field, and every last one of them would be trying to catch Bonnie, and she would be running in and out among them like a fighter plane among bombers.

In her second year, she turned into a hellion and started attacking other dogs, including her lifelong friends, so that was the end of doggie friendships. After that, the only dog she ever played with was this great big old part husky named Freeman. Freeman liked to kill things, and he would have killed Bonnie if he could have caught her, but she was so fast that she could run in, nip his hindquarters, and make her getaway before he could get turned around. Freeman’s person and I used to have a lot of fun watching our dogs’ little game, but we were also glad that Freeman stayed pretty close to us because we never knew but what we might have to make him cough up Bonnie (I know, you’re not supposed to break up a dog fight; you’re supposed to stand there and watch your dog gurgle through a crushed trachea after you let her do something dangerous).

Sure enough, one day Bonnie was running backwards with the usual derision in her eyes and a big smile on her face, no more than ten feet in front of Freeman’s gaping jaws, when she tripped and landed on her back. At that moment, Freeman became an optimist and doubled his speed. Bonnie didn’t just get up, she exploded up, spun around in the air, and hit the ground running. In that moment, I was glad my dog was okay, but in the next, I wondered if she would ever play with Freeman again. As it turned out, she never stopped playing, neither did she stop running in reverse right in front of him and occasionally tripping. I just loved the spirit in her that said, “The world is my oyster, and I can do any damn thing I please.” I spent half of my time trying to protect Bonnie from the results or her own cockiness (the pink collar that Peggy bought for the little puppy that she wanted to name Clair just never did seem right on the dog that became Bonnie).

To see Bonnie as she is now, so beaten by life that she’s afraid of a cat that doesn’t mean her any harm, is very hard. I’m tempted to say that it’s harder than the death of my mother, but I guess it’s just hard in a different way. So, why don’t we put her down? I could even do it myself as far as that goes (I really have it in me), but she still enjoys her 45-minute walk each day, and she still wags her tail when I roll her tennis ball to her. When the tail stops wagging, it will be time.

Five good flicks that feature religion

The Apostle. Robert Duvall wrote, directed, produced, financed, and starred in this film about a holiness preacher who is both tragically fallible and consumed by his devotion to God. This is a good film for the religious, the non-religious, and maybe even some anti-religion people.

Hate Crime (Seth Peterson, Chad Donella) is about two men; one homophobic and the other having suffered the loss of his gay partner in a hate crime. Christianity is represented as having a positive influence in one church and a negative influence in another.

Letting Go of God (Julia Sweeney). Julia is funny, poignant, and thought-provoking as she chronicles the loss of her religious faith in a film that is honest and inoffensive. The chain of her thoughts as she pondered God's existence was much like my own.

Religulous (Bill Mahr). Bill travels to many places to question religious people of many faiths. His questions are blunt and sometimes irreverent, but they're also honest so I'm going to label this film as suitable for the religious and the non-religious. 

Sarah Silverman: Jesus is Magic. If you want to see religion trashed unmercifully by a brilliant comedian who plays the part of an insensitive and bigoted narcissist, you'll love Sarah Silverman. Even if you hated her TV appearances, you ought to see this film.

Voting day

I voted today—Oregon has mail-in balloting—but I listened to the debate tonight for laughs, and was glad I did because I learned a lot about America. For example, “America remains the one indispensible nation,” said Obama, although he didn’t clarify whether he meant that all the other nations put together are dispensable, or whether it’s just some of them, or maybe only one of them that the rest of the world could do without. 

Romney informed me, twice in as many sentences, that, “America is the hope of the world,” and I was delighted to learn that everyone looks up to us the way they do, because we’re certainly worthy of it—I mean, just look at all the good things we do with our missiles and stuff. Then Romney accused Obama of wanting to take money away from our military, and Obama looked hurt, but he must have pulled himself together pretty quickly because he said with obvious pride that, under him, America spends more money on its military than the next ten biggest military spending nations on earth put together, and I thought, whoa, way to go, bro.

Our ability to kick ass combined with our willingness to kick ass is probably why both men agreed that it’s America’s job to “continue promoting peace in the world” (I hadn’t heard that we had already been doing it, but I was glad to find out). After their touching words about how peaceful America is, they agreed that war with Iran is certain if that country doesn’t stop trying to build a nuclear bomb, and they expressed their mutual willingness to also go to war in defense of Israel if anyone should mess with Israel. Like, man, let’s hope nobody attacks Israel, or it and Iran will be two more wars we’re fighting to bring peace to the world. 

In case you’re wondering, I voted for the Green Party candidate for president. She’s in the picture above, the caption of which refers to the arrest of her and her running mate during the last debate (they were protesting the fact that only only two of the candidates got invited to the debate). The rest of the caption concerns Obama’s willingness to ignore parts of the Bill of Rights that don’t suit him. You think the Constitution protects you, and then you discover that it’s only as good as the guy in charge says it is, and two of those guys in a row have ignored what we used to call our “inalienable rights.” The funny thing is that hardly anyone seems to care. This was exemplified by the fact that the subject didn’t even come up during the debates. Maybe Romney and Obama were too busy thinking about who to bomb next in the cause of peace. 

Leftover sex…things I didn't have room for in my last post

First, there were some words by Schopenhauer (pictured), whose thoughts about most things reflect my own better than anyone else I know. He was looking back when he wrote:

“…after sixty, the inclination to be alone grows into a kind of a real, natural instinct; for at that age everything combines in favor of it. The strongest impulse—the love of women’s society—has little or no effect; it is the sexless condition of old age that lays the foundation of a certain self-sufficiency…”


Then there was this poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay, a woman who had her own share of lovers—of both genders. I memorized two of her poems, including this one. It too was written while looking back.  

“What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,

I have forgotten, and what arms have lain

Under my head till morning; but the rain


Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh


Upon the glass and listen for reply;


And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain


For unremembered lads that not again


Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.


Thus in the winter stands a lonely tree,


Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,


Yet know its boughs more silent than before:


I cannot say what loves have come and gone;


I only know that summer sang in me


A little while, that in me sings no more.”

Finally, there was a song by Shakira. Nobody celebrates sexuality like Shakira. I wonder what she will have to say, looking back.