Ketchup, Not Catsup

I have missed this! Still, this won’t likely be of much substance. I just want to write out how crazy the last week has been. Beyond not writing, I didn’t get to read much. Two computer-free…well, blog-free days did frightening things to my Google Reader. I cruised through and starred the longer ones that I didn’t have time to read, scanned the shorter and photo-based ones, and marked the redundant ones as read. There are still a lot of items in my starred folder to catch up with, but at least I can now even attempt to stay on top of the new posts. Hopefully I can get in some coffee & computer time this weekend along with yanking the latest crop of dandelions. I’m hoping I can plant and grow enough flowers to distract the eye from the yellow spots all over the grass, because I don’t think our organic lawncare strategy is going to fix that issue this year.

The first thing is Easter weekend. Oh, my. Long story short, we’re taking Dexter to the behaviourist (yes, I’m totally adopting British/Canadian English usage of the letter u. Shut up, I like the way it looks and I keep typing it on accident anyhow.) tomorrow morning. He was fine with the little kids with one caveat I’ll explain after the meat of the matter. Bottom line, he bit my dad, my mom, and my brother. It just figures that we adopt a dog that is perfectly trained for a calm, lazy home with a lot of downtime and minimal chaos, so he freaks out and apparently is threatened by larger groups of adults. We kept him on the leash even inside the house, knowing his tendency to nip at grownups, and he did pretty well for a good stretch. I think my dad was first, a good scratch on the shin sustained turning his back too quickly (seems to be a theme). Then, my mom got one on the hand or wrist while petting him (wtf, dog?!). Then, my brother also while petting him, when moving from the head/ears to try under the chin. Dex does love the scemorze (that’s a guess on an Italian spelling of this thing my grandpa did, wherein he stood behind us and gently chucked us under the chin rapidly and repeatedly while we giggled at the way it made our voices sound. Trust me, it sounds weird but kids love it.) when administered by Mike or me, but apparently he wasn’t having it from my brother. These are the three that bled. They are initiated and bona fide. We’re lucky they’re immediate family and don’t hold it against our Dr. Jekyll – Mr. Hyde pound puppy.

He did excellently with the little kids for the most part. The caveat I mentioned above is the oldest and tallest of the kids that aren’t teens yet. Poor thing had made great friends with him earlier, but took a nip on the leg while running past playing with her sisters and cousins, paying no attention to the dog. No permanent damage or broken skin, but NOT FUCKING COOL. I don’t know if she was just tall enough to be fair game in his mind, or what. And not that it’s any better for him to bite adults, but you just have to worry more about kids. Other than that, he was incredibly tolerant with all of the kids, even letting the little toddler “walk” him around the house, doing more mushing and whipping with the leash (LET’S WALK THE DOG, LET’S WALK THE DOG, YEEEAAAHHH!!! Too cute.) than leading or guiding. Anyhow, I’m far from giving up. He’s so almost perfectly trained in every other area, I can’t not believe that he’ll get there with some socialization training. Excuse me, behaviourizing.

After that exhausting weekend, it was time to repack and head out to NC. I still can’t say much about it, but I’m sure I can make some general observations on tobacco culture in general. People in any industry love their jobs and can be proud of their work and yet not arrogant or ashamed about the results of their products’ usage. It’s really rather effing cool given the nature of the beast in the current economic and governmental climate. And the manufacturing technology is absolutely astounding. Astounding. As are the things they can do in Japan, where there isn’t such a powerful anti-smoking lobby. The Japanese do love a technological gimmick, in any product. It borders on bizarre what types of products they get over there.

As usual, I’ve got no summary. Happy weekending, everyone. Really. I mean it.

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2 thoughts on “Ketchup, Not Catsup

  1. suntzusays says:

    You could also spell things like “socialisation” with the ‘s’ instead of the ‘z’ to increase your conversion to English. England pronounces z different, in a manner more befitting a distinct letter of the alphabet. I suppose this explains the child who wasn’t eaten last week. I preferred it the other way around with the dog who attacked and chased children, at least, some children. But not really. Lawsuit waiting to happen that way.

  2. Ah yes, the s! Schmutzie mentioned that, too but it just didn’t click right away. But that does seem much more civilised. Sweet.Yeah, my family’s understanding, but we’re not a sacrificial cult yet. They wouldn’t sue me, but most other people wouldn’t take kindly to having their children snacked upon by Dexter.

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