Day Two: The furbabies, what I’m reading, and in the news

T and I have two dogs.  Thor, who was mine coming into the relationship, and Baldr, an American Eskimo dog we recently rescued.

I’ve had Thor for around 11 years, since he was a few months old.  My mother gave him to me for christmas, and she had been told that he was half beagle and half poodle.  This turned out to be only half true. He is without a doubt part beagle–he is ruled by his nose, and has that piercing, howling bark common to beagles.  The kind of bark you can hear 4 houses down, cringing, knowing that it is your dog making that horrible racket. However, at about 6 months old, it became apparent that the there was little, if any, poodle in him, and there was in fact marked terrier parentage.  I suppose, if I was into the whole designer dog thing..(which I’m not, and I”m sure there will be a rant on this subject eventually) we could call him “Berrier” or a “Teagle”–but he’s a mutt.  I wouldn’t have him any other way.  He’s old now, his black and tan coloring liberally sprinkled w/ white.  He’s not as spry as he once was, but he will still barrel out the door to parts unknown, chasing the scents of cats, kids, and other dogs if given half a chance.  His favorite place to sleep is on top of the radiator, though before coming to CT it was the back of the couch.    When I left AL, he traveled a 1000 miles on my lap.  He’s completly ruled by his nose…I’ve seen him be oblivious to the cat a foot away from him because he was following a scent trail of another cat. Thor is not a beautiful dog, but he is painfully cute.  Color and size wise, he looks like a rottweiller and Benji made sweet sweet love.  Kellye calls him “Mr. Scruffs” and this is an apt name, as is Terrence’s nickname for him, “fuzzy butt.”

Baldr is the new addition.  He’s a noble beast, and while we’ll never know, looks like he’s probably a purebred American Eskimo.  We’re not sure how old he is.  Hell, there was even some confusion about his sex!  Baldr was rescued from the  city of hartford animal shelter, (  and until the day I went to pick him up, he had been posted as being a female.  However, as Thor is meeting this new dog, and I”m making conversation with the animal rescue officer , she says, “oh, THAT’S a penis!”   He was found running down a busy road, he’s not fearful, and he’s overweight and is (mostly) housetrained, so it seems that he got lost and his owners never claimed him.  Part of me mourns for them, he’s a good boy, and beautiful.  Smart, too, though he can’t quite seem to master the “down” command yet.


Now, I’m going to change topics.

A semi-regular feature that will be included on this blog:  2011 book challenge:  104 books in 52 weeks.

The book I”m reading now.

It’s pretty scathingly merciless in it’s arguments on organized religion, and is causing me no little mental distress.  For you see, unlike the vast majority of my social group and family, I still believe in God.  Oh, not some white guy w/ a beard god, who snoops around bedrooms and love lives, worrying endlessly about who is shtupping whom, or what kind of meat we’re eating, or what direction we face to pray, or how our hair is did, or what we’re wearing.  But some sort of….ineffable, unknowable something that started it all.  As a younger person, I developed the “science project theory”–the idea that God started it all, just to see what we would do with it.  I’ve experimented w/ lots of religions, trying to find the ONE that worked.  Currently, I label myself a Buddhist, with pagan leanings. But what I really believe is that “God” (whatever you want to call it) is really just too big and ununderstandable, so what we do as humans is create “boxes” to try to fit God in.  Some people just accept the box they’re given by they’re parents, and never really examine it, cuz it’s they’re box, dammit! Some people decide they don’t need a box at all.  And some of us spend a lot of time looking for just the right box.  But “God”   is too big for the boxes we make, and nobody has the right box.  Because there is no right box.

However, I’ve always been comfortable with my belief that there is something to try to put in that box, even though I’ll never get it quite right.  But this book makes me question even that, makes me wonder if not only are the boxes man made, but what we’re trying to put in the box.  What if there really is….nothing?  I don’t like thinking that, it makes me uncomfortable and frightened.  I don’t like it, but if I’m to be honest, I must at least consider the idea, and if I do choose to reject the idea, understand why.


In housewifery news:  Tonight’s dinner is pulled pork.  Following Seth’s suggestion, I’ve got a giant hunk of dead pig currently in the slow cooker in ginger ale.  As I side dish, I will be making home made cole slaw.  And since Thom and his boys are coming for dinner, I think I will make some sort of dessert item.  Which means, gentle readers, that it is time to get off the puter and into the kitchen.

Tune in tomorrow for dinner reviews, shameless navel gazing, and thoughts on conservatives and reproductive control.


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