Trickery and deception will get you nowhere

Lately I have noticed a few things that bother me at my house. It is getting warmer and that means I want to spend more time outside. I like to lay on my deck and get some sun so I can work on my basset tan. The neighborhood is more alive now that the snow has melted and the birds are back, flying around and singing. I can also run through the yard quicker now and there is a hint of squirrel in the air. Even Joey jumps into our yard sometimes, and Sophia has been in her yard a lot lately.

Plenty of reasons for a hound to want to stay outside a bit longer than usual.

What are you yelling about? I can hear you.

But our parents don't want us to hang out in the yard. They would rather we go out and do our business, then come right back in. Dad always mumbles something about not chasing me in his underwear. Now I am a good hound lady, and I do my best to listen to the suggestions my owners make to me. But there are times I have to exert my independence. This usually goes pretty well if I get off the deck, as dad doesn't like to come down and get me. Sometimes I am rewarded by being left alone and allowed to come back inside when I am good and ready. Other times it results in mom or dad trying to trick us.

The trickery and deception worked on me for a little while - I wanted to believe. Dad would say something like 'let's go inside puppies', and we would all faithfully come bounding up the steps. But now that I take my time he tries to entice me upstairs with a treat. Now there are times where a treat sounds better than walking around in the yard, and he usually gives us treats when we come inside anyway. Other times he will say 'mama's home', and it is difficult not to give in to that temptation. Mama coming home is a joyous occasion. Lately he has asked if we want to go for a car ride. Car rides are the best!

I'm so happy!

But usually this is just a lie - he only says that to get us to come upstairs, and then he flops down on the couch to watch TV. Now that I know this happens I listen less and less. Plus he is dealing with a pro - I can trick Rosco into giving up The Good Bone pretty easily. The one trick I need to work on is when he says 'Nibs!' or 'Joey!', as if the cats were at the door. I really want to play with those cats but they are afraid of me. So I try and take advantage of cornering them so I can show them how nice I am, and more than once dad has tricked me into coming inside before I was good and ready, only to discover that there are no cats.

But me listening less and less is starting to make them come out and get me. The other day he came down with a broom, as if he were going to sweep me up the stairs.

So you see the sort of foolishness I have to put up with. This sort of devious behavior can really wear a girl down.

Weird Word Wednesday #7

I'm taking over the blog again for one of the animals because Beaker is too busy to blog at the moment.  She just went rocketing through the house and knocked the dog gate over, sparking an intense 30 seconds of basset aerobics.  Everyone is back to their sleeping/chew bone gnawing state again.

This week's weird annoying word is 'patience'.  I'm out of the stuff.  Frankly, I'm tired of waiting on every little thing.

We've been waiting on my wife to find steady employment since moving here.  That is a waiting game I am sick to death of.  She is educated, intelligent, responsible, has a strong work ethic, and is apparently unhirable in the greater Columbia area.  The local college graduates have an extra level of certification that she doesn't, and that is evidently more desirable than 2 years of on the job training.  My guess is those students are winning the game of 'who you know' due to their clinical rotations that they complete during their schooling; they most likely know all the local hospital staff because they've worked for them at some point during their education.  I'm tired of not being able to do anything to help my wife.  Unemployment sucks the life out of you, and right now I think I'd amputate something if I thought it would land her a job.

I'm tired of waiting on manuscript reviewers too.  My colleagues and I submitted a paper to Southwestern Naturalist in June of 2010.  I have emailed the editor repeatedly and asked for updates on the review process - something that should take 3 months at the most, and that is for technical, specialized papers.  Ours was basically a report on the species of animals found on an Air Force Base.  I could probably get my mother to review it in an hour or two.  The editor has told me that his first two reviewers flaked out on him and he had to find someone else.  Supposedly, the paper was going to be reviewed by today, and as of 9:50 CST I have not received an email about it.  My only other manuscript took a long time to finally get published, and the note that I got published in 2009 took almost a year to review and see print.  A year for one paragraph.  Either I have terrible luck in journal reviewers or someone is out to get me.  These sort of things slow down the development of a CV (a scientific resume, basically), which in turns slows down how competitive I appear when applying for scientific jobs.  Although I should probably point out that those same colleagues are waiting on me to finish another manuscript and get it sent to them for a final review before submission.  I guess everybody waits on something.

I'm tired of waiting to feel like my life is going to start.  The stress of not making enough money to cover all our costs - and these are basic costs, not expensive cars or wasteful spending - literally eats up all the happiness in life.  I can't seem to get out from under it either.  I love my job and I enjoy the time I spend there, but the reality of the situation looms over me pretty much every day.  My wife is waiting to hear on a job that is about an hour and a half away - we want her to get it but it will mean us living apart until at least October.  I'm tired of waiting for our lives to being together, where we both are working in our fields under the same roof.  These days it is tough not to be bitter and sad every day, and if it weren't for the distractions TV and the internet offer I wouldn't be able to deal with it.  And that's just me being selfish and thinking about myself - you can guess how my wife feels.  I wish there was something I could do to help her.

As I worried over all these things on my drive home today I was greeted with a happy sight.  My dog Rosco (Puppyman) was waiting for me in the window.  I could see his droopy-eared profile in the window, backlit by the lamp.  As I pulled in the driveway he jumped off the couch and ran downstairs to greet me at the door by howling and leaping at me.  His wait, at least, was over.

The Good Bone Phenomenon

As I write this, Rosco and Layla are currently helping my wife keep the couch from flying away.  Earlier this morning I witnessed what I refer to as the "Good Bone Phenomenon".  If you own dogs you know exactly what I am talking about.

We buy our dogs a few different kinds of chew bones.  Rawhides are nice because they last a long time and are cheap, but you do run the risk that they will eat part of it and have digestive tract blockage.  The dogs aren't always crazy about them, though - a good rawhide needs a few days of half-hearted chewing before it is fully seasoned to basset tastes.  Bully sticks - basically dried cow tendons - are the most highly prized, but they don't last long and stink horribly while being eaten.  Layla also tends to have some intestinal gas troubles when she gets those and we worry about bloat, so we don't get them very often.  They're also about 5 bucks for a 12 inch piece.  Busy bones are pressed chew treats that last approximately 30 seconds and make a terrific mess.  However, any new chew bones are met with a lot of enthusiasm by the dogs, at first.

Until the new bone phenomenon sets in.

We try and buy bones that are similarly sized, because our dogs will give us indignant looks if they feel that they are getting the short end of the stick.  But it doesn't matter.  Any bones that lasts longer than twenty minutes will eventually prompt the 'Good Bone Phenomenon'.  This occurs when one dog decides the other somehow got a better deal then them.  No matter how juicy, stinky, or delicious their bone may appear, they are certain that the other dog is enjoying themselves that much more.  And so they lay on the floor, their partially-eaten bone discarded next to them, coated in a sheen of basset saliva, and they watch the other dog eat what they believe to be the 'Good Bone'.  No amount of pouting can sway the other dog's attention though - our dogs have become masters at the art of bone-eating, to the point of deception and trickery to get the prize.  We could buy fifty bones that were machined to exact specifications, so that there was no significant difference in size, mass, or taste qualities, and there would be one bone among them all that was the epitome of what a chew bone should be.  Wars have been fought over less.

The deception is an interesting part of dog ownership that I never envisioned.  I have always assumed dogs were the most enviable of animals - cute, although lower on the intelligence scale than cats, with heightened perceptions, and a sense of loyalty that few humans can ever aspire to.  The deviousness and attitude were surprises.

For instance, if Rosco has the 'Good Bone', Layla may try to use his jealousy against him.  My wife may be laying on the couch watching a TV show, and Layla will pull herself up from her pouting session over getting the lesser of two bones.  She stretches, saunters slowly to the spot in front of my wife's position on the couch, and lets out a low whimper.  'Love me', this whimper says.  It's soft at first - she doesn't want to rush things - but after a few more tries, both the players in Layla's game are now fully engaged.  My wife, her affections for the dog now running at full capacity, will reposition herself on the couch to allow Layla some room for snuggling.  Rosco, meanwhile, his attention slightly diverted from the 'Good Bone' by Layla's theatrics, will pause for a moment.  Snuggling is a good thing.  Is Layla going to get some?  From Mama?  Without me being involved?  This bone is pretty good, but...  well, let's wait and see.  She isn't on the couch yet.  Back to the bone.

Layla, meanwhile, will milk my wife's affections to their fullest extent.  She might feebly attempt to jump on the couch - her stumpy front legs barely making it to the cushion, making half-hearted attempts to hoist the rest of her body up there.  Nevermind that during the daily basset chase sessions that occur it looks like the dogs are extras in House of Flying Daggers, and appear to be able to jump over the coffee table to get onto the couch - at this point, Layla might not be able to lift her legs high enough to step over a folded washcloth, and jumping the 16 inches to get onto the couch is an insurmountable challenge.  My wife (or I) will give in and help lift her up onto the couch.  After a few moments of rotation and couch-pawing, she settles into a comfortable position.  Layla emits a content sigh.  Never has a dog been so content.

At this point Rosco realizes he is missing out on something big indeed.  Jealousy overcomes how good that bone tastes.  He rushes over to the couch, jumps up on whatever available spot remains, and looks at my wife, his puppy feelings hurt beyond measure.  His wounded heart is about to get another shock, for at this point Layla covers the distance from her resting position on the couch to the 'Good Bone' - left unattended by Rosco - in approximately two seconds, all signs of basset laziness long gone.  Rosco's face at this point is priceless, unable to believe how he has been duped.

This sort of thing happens all the time.  Treats, belly rubs, chasing cats - all things that can grab a dog's attention for a moment, all are used to remove the current owner of the good bone's attention.

All's fair in love and chew bone competition.