DukeFinger

Dukefinger has the hurting the last two days. Finally a little bit better.

Animals can be so enlightening....

Having been raised with only a cat for a number of years as a child and young adult, I never got the dog thing. Just didn't grow up with the exposure. My parents didn't like them to the best of my knowledge. My father did have one he was quite taken with while in his second life. Mom is even better around them than I could have envisioned.
Still, hard as I try ( and I do try) It's a difficult relationship to break through. The cat is so darn easy. Relatively quiet and innocuous they just go about their business in a most simple and seemingly unaffected manner. With purpose.
The dog is so willy-nilly and goofy I sometimes feel I can compare them to what a fish looks like out of water. Flipping and flopping around, bounding up and down and across the yard. I like it, its fun. This morning as I sat on the bed, Duke mashed his skull into my legs and as I scratched his head, chin and neck he licked my face and climbed up placing his paws on my legs and resting his head sideways on my lap. Now that's the kind of affection I can really go for.

The future....

I am sitting at my desk attempting to organize. Get rid of some of the paper. The office in general is a bit disheveled right now too. I dragged up a container full of computer & electronics gear to parse through and rid myself of. I'm making progress, albeit slowly. I wrote a check for an outstanding bill. Tossed the receipt in the 'to be filed' pile that's growing. I walked over to the shelf to grab an envelope and looked up at the various items; graded homework papers from Zoe, a globe, phonebooks, cd's, notebooks, books....It looks overwhelming, the accumulation. Not just here, it's invasive in our society. A society of collectors, and to what end? It made me stop and think: What defines a culture?

When artifacts from the 20th century are uncovered, what will future generations think? How will they evaluate us? What will they write about our fascination with accumulation? It's a subject I contemplate regularly now. It has it's positive aspects as it has helped me motivate to cleanse my life of so much minutia. It's tough though. It still comes in and I find myself always evaluating & re-evaluating, "How does keeping this item help me?" or, "What will this mean to me in x years?" I think a great deal of our clinginess to objects of little or no value is simply nostalgia. It reminds us of a time or an event we want to remember. A birth, death, graduation or a general period in ones life. "Oh, that box is stuff from my college years." It's ok to keep something, but where should we draw the line?

I have a vice. It's record collecting. I kid myself that I only get quality items but the reality is, there is no quality control. I take what I can get. Who am I to turn down a free offer of records? I take everything I can get my hands on. I enjoy the covers, the occasional discovery of a treasure. I become animated, thrilled really, when I open something in mint condition. Right now I am looking at a Bob Newheart record, it's got to be 40 years old. It is in great shape. I soak it in. I'll listen to it and revel in the comedy of the time. It's much more intellectual than today. Believe me, I love a good joke with any and all of the 7 dirty words (coined by George Carlin, possibly the most astute comedian ever and certainly my favorite) but I do love the snap, crackle and pop when I play these recordings and it puts me into another mental sphere. One where work and stress seem to melt away....Will future generations understand that, or will they look at my piles of dungy disorder with disdain instead?

I need to know more about how we look at the past, to determine how the future will look at us. I know I will be gone someday and, what will be left to determine my legacy? I don't know if it should be a dusty pile of vinyl. I sure as heck know it shouldn't be piles of papers and computer parts and .....shit. Of that, I am confident. So all I can do is my best to trim the fat, peel away the layers and remember to focus on what's important in life. As for the future, well I'll just leave that to my grandma and a little ditty she used to love to sing. It began, Que Sera Sera....

By the way, I told you at the beginning this wasn't going to be all about Duke, and I meant it.

The Duke Dance

It's what we do, me and him. He doesn't like me much. It's understood. Oh, he'll be nice and all when I give him the chance, which is fine. Works the same in reverse. But we often perform The Duke Dance. Hard to describe so I'll just equate it to a Flamenco. Sorta. Minus the sensuality. See below.

"Latin dance is a fast-paced, often sensual, partner dance characterized by sexy hip movements. However, hip movements are not intentional in any of the Latin dances. The hip motion is a natural consequence of changing weight from one foot to the other."

Essentially we're squaring off. Nobody ever wins, It's wasted movement while we jockey for a position of superiority, neither of us really knowing what that means. The Duke Dance. I come, he goes. It occurred to me that maybe I am approaching this all wrong. Maybe I just need to piss on the floor and mark my territory.

The SOB bit me

and HARD, dammit! 20 minutes ago and it still throbs. An I love you, I hate you moment? Not when he bit me. Martine and Zoe and I were in the bedroom. Martine was raising her leg all the way up and placing it on my back. It might sound odd but not after you hear why. It was because my back was apparently far warmer than her foot, thus making my back a 'substituer pieds plus chauds'. Well this had me wincing & laughing creating quite a little stir in the bedroom. Zoe got in on the action first than Rachel came to join us and find out what the laughing and noise was all about. Well no place do we all gather where Duke does not so of course he was underfoot. Underfoot and unbeknown to us becoming quite disturbed by the racket. Rachel stuck her foot on my back and WHAMMO! He jumped and bit the back of my right thigh. I yelped pretty good and went to grab him as he now ran around hiding behind the ladies. See, that's what he does. Bites and runs. Remember, I told you he isn't THAT dumb. I gave him a good whack on the nose for his troubles (when I caught him) and he took off for his cage, sequestering himself. M went to go check on him moments later and he was apparently shaking like a leaf in a harsh wind. I came over and he ducked and dodged my glance. I dared stick my hand back in front of his mouth and he licked it tentatively. I guess I forgive him again but damn, it hurts.

....Duke Is The Dog

....and Duke is the dog. It's how I've overheard many conversations begin when Martine (hereafter simply known as 'wife') introduces our family. Perhaps we're out meeting somebody new or somebody is visiting our home. It's always the same. "This is (daughter#1) and this is (daughter#2) and this is my husband, Brian and this....is Duke. He's a little crazy but he won't hurt you." she says, smiling. She has to say that as Duke has likely scared the daylights out of whomever dare come within 100 feet of our home. He's unleashed a doggie tirade that's maniacal enough to weaken the knees of even the most feared contractors. Or the meter reader. I had the utility man once insist I put him away for the duration of the visit. "Uhh, your going to lock him up right? I don't want to get bit". Not bitten mind you, bit. So with all due respect to his wishes and improper grammer I locked up the dog. It struck me at that moment that perhaps there was more than met the eye with Duke. Josie, our much older, wiser and gentler dog never even made me blink twice. Duke had already cost me a broken finger. More on that later. This blog won't be all or only about Duke, but he may indeed garner more than his share of attention as I have to admit....I'm beginning to really like this wild beast.