Destroyer of Souls

You might wonder by the title of this post whether I am talking about Jam or myself.  Well, rest assured, the sweet little Jam boy is not the destroyer of souls.  No, that designation goes to me.  I alone carry the power to crush joy from the hearts of men, women and small, little blonde girls.

Take last night for instance...

Michele and I were planning on attending the regional finals game of the boys baseball team (we ended up losing 6-1, boo! but it wasn't a shut out!).  We decided to go to dinner together to Seasons 52 before the game started.  I've started the South Beach diet and I'm in that irritating two week beginner phase where you can't have anything that tastes good or has a starch or sugar calorie in it.  I might as well have tasty veggies if veggies are all I can have!  So Seasons 52 it is. 

It was a little bit tense as Jam had his dinner at 4 and still hadn't had a poo and Seasons 52 is a little posh.    I was pretty confident that he wouldn't hunch over in the restaurant as we gave him ample opportunity outside to go.

Inside the hostess said there was a regular customer who has a Southeastern puppy who was much smaller/younger than Jam and they loved the puppies there.  (Yea!) We've taken Jam there several times and they've always been super nice.  

Jam's new thing is to position himself at the very front of the booth so that he can watch the traffic back and forth.  Sort of a watchdog thing.  He's checking everyone out.  So, he was the one to first see the lady approach our table, but he didn't get up.  He did move his head, which alerted me that something was up and I turned to see her making her way gingerly towards us.

Now there are generally two sorts of people who approach you with intent:

1. Zombie hands: These are the people who are not going to ask, they just have their hands and arms outstretched like lifeless zombies lurching towards you ready to grab your guide dog puppy in training and pat him no matter what the rules are.
2. Blurters or Oversharers: They are the ones who are approaching you, but not sure, might turn away, don't want to bother you, but are so drawn to the puppy that they ultimately can't help themselves and finally, just come out and share with you things that may or may not relate to the puppy, but occured to them and they had to share it with you.

This nice lady was an oversharer.  She approached as if walking a tightrope with her hands held out for balance and said, "He's working isn't he?  I can't pet him."

Then she looked up at me.  She had been staring at Jam the whole walk over.  Jam was looking back at her calmly.  I smiled, kindly (I hoped), "No.  I'm so sorry, but when the coat is on he is on duty and can't be petted."

"I knew that." She stared at Jam.  Then began to share: "We have a yellow lab.  They are such wonderful dogs."

"Yes, they are.  They are the best dogs."  I think this puppy raiser gig is part counselor to the public sometimes.

She sighed.  "He's beautiful."

We all returned to dinner and about five minutes later, Michele said, "Uh, oh.  Husband approaching."

I turned to find myself staring at a cellphone with the photo of a yellow lab who looked remarkably like Jam sitting by the side of a pool. "Wow.  That dog does look like Jam." I said.  The man beamed at me.

"I know!"  Then, having shared his photo, he went back to his dinner.

Jam sitting on the seatwell of the golfcart with Michele in the driver's seat.

 When we got to school, we decided to take the golf cart to the baseball field.  Jam got to experience Michele's driving. It made him a little nervous, but he got over it and settled down.
 Once we got to the game I put his jacket back on as I didn't want people coming up and petting him all night.  That's when I had to destroy a soul or two.

 For Jam was the only dog at the game.  And he was mighty attractive.  And just like at the Tampa Prep baseball game we went to, there were lots of small children running around.  Only this time, their parents seemed to have run off and left them to fend for themselves.  So when a small, blonde 4-5 year old girl ran up out of the blue and patted Jam on the head both Jam and I were a little taken aback.  Where did this small child come from?  Who did she belong to?  Where were her parents?

I'm thinking: Can I give them the "Look at the coat" look and then I don't have to be the destroyer of souls or am I actually going to have to do it?  Will she come back?  Perhaps it was a one off.

Jam looking at the Bucs standing out on the pitcher's mound getting instructions.

But no.  Here she comes.  She rushes up and she's a zombie hand.  I take her hand and say in my nicest voice, "Sweetie, I'm so sorry, but did you know, that when this puppy is wearing his blue coat, no one can pet him?  He's working?"

And her adorable little face just falls into despair.  I am officially the worst person in the world.  She says nothing but turns and runs away and never comes back.

Is there a counselor out there for me? Destroyer of souls is a heavy burden to bear.

A Very Observant Puppy

Sometimes I forget that Jam is a lab.  That he has a history of hunting and chasing in his genes.  Some things will just come naturally to him.

So the other day when I was down in the lower division library in a meeting I was surprised to find Jam staring very intently at something.  But we couldn't figure out what it was. We followed his line of sight.

This year's theme for reading in lower division is Soar Into Reading and they have bird houses all over the library.  Bird houses with fake birds living in them.  Bird houses with fluffy fake birds all around them.  Most of the faux birds are very small, but there were these two owls...

Out of the entire library, Jam had found the two big owls and he stared at them.  He still followed commands and even went over to pose by them.  But he was aware of them and what they were.

I thought he showed enormous restraint.  Good boy, Jam.

Orchid Thief

By Fred

An ordinary life examined closely reveals itself to be exquisite and complicated and exceptional...
The Orchid Thief

Jam doesn't actually steal the orchids; he just knocks them over on his way from here to there. I noticed today, however, that he seemed more curious about them, and maybe just a little more gentle than in the past.

We've had the orchids on the porch for years, and we never really expected much from them, but this year they've bloomed all at once (all except two plants), mostly white blooms with splotches.

It has been difficult to teach Jam about the orchids. Fortunately, dogs don't require wordy explanations (and I really don't have any). They eventually just want to be good, if only for a while, like today.

Jam: Not Being Helpful

Some days there are themes.  Today's theme was Unhelpfulness. Really, Word dictionary? Unhelpfulness isn't a word and helpfulness is?  Yet there is an unhelpful.  You, Jam were unhelpful today.

Take for example, when I got up and left Jam sleeping.  Snoring actually, during the full study hall this morning.  Sure, I had hooked his leash to my chair instead of the table, but that was such a small mistake.   What harm could there be in that?  And after all, he had been so good in his stays.  Letting me go into the workroom and grab a bottle of water or pick up some paper.

I stepped over the sleeping guide dog puppy and walked into the library workroom to ask my question.  Unfortunately, that led to another question and then another.  

BAM!

I ran out into the library to see the table next to mine, which had been filled with freshman boys all standing but one.  The one was laid out with his legs extended to my former chair where he was pressing down with all his leg strength. Jam was on a tie down to that chair and was at the end of it.

In front of Jam were two upper classmen (Alison and Caleb) who told me that Jam and the chair, which, by the 47th law of physics that states that things tied to you will follow if you are strong enough to drag them, had woken up and tried to find me.  Alison and Caleb it should be noted were surrounding Jam but more importantly they were not touching Jam BECAUSE HE HAD HIS COAT ON.

So, my unhelpful guide dog puppy in training had put in action several students who had followed all the rules and been supremely successful in stopping Jam and holding him steady where he was and not violating the sanctity of the coat. 8-)

I love my students.  They are so wonderful.  I quickly relieved the freshman boy as he seemed close to expiring.  Then Jam and I took a walk.

Later, Christina and I started a weeding project.  We were trying to determine whether we had 90 feet of shelving weeded or if we still needed more books to weed.  So we were measuring with ribbon.

Jam at my feet licking the ribbon.

As we were walking around the shelves measuring and letting the ribbon flutter behind us, Jam would wait for a big curl to fall and then he would go to sleep on it as if it were a treasure to be protected with his body.  Soon enough we would come to a screeching halt as his body weight would hold us in place.

"Jam!"

Jam at my feet while Christina and I measure out the ribbon.

Sleepy, blurry, doe eyes looking up at us.  So if unhelpful isn't a word and if Jam wasn't particularly helpful, then what happened?

Wait a minute.  Wasn't there some old trope about letting sleeping dogs lie? But didn't I do that this morning? Maybe, for Jam, it's more about, sure, let the sleeping dogs lie, but make darn sure you are there when they wake up!

Puppies and Babies

By Fred

There may be a lack of consensus about which is cuter: a puppy or a baby. Parents with new-born children cannot be trusted to give an honest opinion--they suffer from a lack of sleep. On the other hand, a small puppy is more like to receive praise and attention from total strangers, and puppy-raisers believe every word.

Sometimes these opposing camps come together, and the cuteness quotient can reach a dangerous level. We saw such an encounter at the Symphony Under the Stars this weekend, when Stephanie's puppy, Coastie, met up with a baby challenger in the crowd. Which one is cuter? Here's a picture of the winner consoling the runner-up.

Of course, Jam used to be one of these very small and cute puppies--there was a time when we couldn't eat at restaurants because people would stop by to stare at him--but now he is often ignored by the general public, especially when babies and small puppies are present, and we worry about his self-esteem. Here he is, being consoled by Cheryl.

Earlier in the day, we had a good time and a good meal at a tail-gate party in the parking lot. Like always, these are some of the nicest people in the world.

Several of the guide dogs puppies were there, including Mars, a new chocolate lab being raised by John. I believe Mars is the most sincere looking creature I've ever seen.

Yes, puppies are cuter than babies.

A Model of Perfection

Jam was a different dog on Friday.  Of course we had our walk! And we had a more casual day as it was the Senior-kindergartner picnic and all school convo, which is always exciting.

  

Jam relaxing on the gym floor during the all school convo.

Jam was very well behaved during the convo.  Except for that one moment when he flipped over on his back and waved his legs in the air like a drunken octopus.  Oh, yeah, was that during the lower division choir's song?  Was that when the headmaster looked over in our general direction?  

I quickly captured what seemed to be Jam's 23 legs and shoved him under my legs and next to the bleachers where he stayed in a down position for the remainder of the convo.

Jam at a Bonefish Grill high top table.  He's underneath looking out at the public.

That evening we decided that we would go out for dinner to celebrate the weekend and we headed over to Bonefish Grill, which seems to be the only restaurant capable of making mussels.  We sat outside at a high top table, which would be a new experience for Jam.

At first he was a little fussy, but he is really great out at restaurants and he settled down quickly.  What should have been disturbing to an intact 12 month old puppy was the silly Pomeranian dog that another customer had brought to the restaurant and was feeding at her chair.  Yes, she was taking food off her plate and putting it on a smaller plate for her dog and feeding him right there in front of my dog.

Jams head is that the lower right of the photo.  There is a small Pomeranian at the top left of the photo.  There is also a lady sitting on a chair giving Jam the stink eye.  She owns the pom.  

Jam didn't care.  The more that lady gave Jam the stink eye, the more he turned his classic lab profile slightly to the left and did a Brad Pitt.  Meaning everyone who walked by immediately saw Jam and said, "OOOOOH how beautiful!" (He is quite striking.) And no one paid her little dog any attention.

That's it Jam.  When faced with evil, small dogs who are being fed from the table, take relief in the zen of your inner beauty.

How I love him, my buddha lab.

A Lesson Learned

Thursday was one of those busy days.  A day you just can't predict.  You think you have it all prepared, but then it goes INSANE.  

Usually, Jammy and I walk into school, past the speeding students and their sometimes equally speed demon parents and I was thinking about the morning's schedule.  MUN (Model United Nations club) had a Frosty sale at lunch.  We had never attempted this before and it was uncharted territory.  I needed to leave right before lunch and go with one of the senior students to Wendy's to pick 200 frosties and then get them back on campus in time to sell before the kids got out for lunch at 12:30.  And I had a lunch meeting to review student library proctor candidates with my head and assistant head student library proctors at 12:35.

But first I had a ton of grading to do.  That meant sitting on the main floor of the library and grading the works cited as I also kept an eye on what was going on around me.  They call it multitasking. Librarians are whizzes at it.  Usually Jam and I have our morning walk at 10 when we go to convocation, but we didn't go to convocation on Thursday for some reason.  I don't know why.  Perhaps I got caught up in my grading.  For whatever reason, we had a pee break, went back to work and about the time I needed to fly out to the Wendy's, I left Jammy with Christina.

Jammy is sitting in front of Christina in the library workroom with his head tilted to the right.

 He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he knew something was up.  I was a bit stressed about the whole deal.  Alex and I drove to Wendy's and when we got there, we found only one person working the cash register.  All I needed to do was go up and ask for Charlie, but since there were three people ahead of me in line, I could very well barge up and say, "I just need Charlie, now, get outta my way!" and have them get all up in my face about cutting in line and being there first.  Especially when I had a student with me.

So, I patiently stood in line.  Right.  I stood in line, but NOT patiently.  I was toe tapping and looking around and trying to figure out which person back there was Charlie, because the minute I identified him, I was going to laser beam him over to me.  Seriously, what was he thinking putting only one person on the counter at lunchtime?

And then the VERY WORST THING HAPPENS: coupon lady appears.  I was next in line.  I was so close.  There was this blonde in front of me and she had just started to order when her friend comes out of the bathroom and steps up next to her.  (Oh yes, she did, and her purse was big and filled with coupons.) The blonde turns to her friend and says, "What do you want?"

Well, I wanted to poke her friend's eyes out.  But that was before her friend pulled out the ginormous wad of coupons. The old lady behind the register, who you know is on her third day at Wendy's, lets out a little moan.  "I don't know how to do coupons!"

"Oh. My. Freaking. God." But I say this inside my head where a little mini me is screaming and pulling out big tufts of hair.  "I just need to talk to Charlie!  I don't even need any food!!!!  Where the hell is Charlie?!!!"

So, three-day-old cashier says, "Charlie, I need some help!  I don't know how to do coupons."  And this tall man comes over and I try to laser beam him with my eyes, but it doesn't work.  The coupon lady has him in her talons.  She is throwing all this coupons on the counter and talking in coupon gibberish.  It's like Klingon for Trekkies only you get food as a reward.

Sure enough, Charlie starts punching buttons and things beep and three-day-old cashier watches with her big eyes as it goes in one ear and out the other.  Charlie looks up and I laser beam him again.

"Hi, I'm from Berkeley.  I have the 200 frosties."

"Oh yeah. They are out back.  Have you paid yet?"  I look at coupon lady.  She looks back at me and offers me a coupon.  "No thank you. No, I haven't yet."

"Well, let's do that and get you out back to get your frosties."

So we pay and go out back and he has 7 boxes of frosties to go in my Honda fit.  Mind you, we brought 3 coolers to put the frosties in, because we were told to bring coolers.  But the Honda Fit will fit a full size llama in it, I kid you not!

Photo of a Honda fit with a llama in the back seat.  The head is poked out the window.

And you didn't believe me.  I think sometimes, dear reader, you think I drift into hyperbole!

Anyway, back to the story, we here we have three coolers and 7 boxes of frosties and the frosties are melting and they are all very precariously placed in the boxes, not tightly placed or snugly placed, but loosely placed with room to move and dance around.  And did I mention that the tops are pretty open?  So they can slosh out if they feel like it?  Yea.  Great.

I'm really relaxed about this whole thing.  Oh, and Alex.  He's about 6'5".  No worries.  We'll make it.  You know how I drive right?  I can handle this.  I can drive really slow and take turns in a calm manner.

Quit laughing.

We make it to the school.  We sell the frosties.  I make my meeting.  We select SLPs.  The upshot is that Jammy is without a walk for a long time.  I am bushed and completely stressed and drained.  So when I take him back, I just go into my office with him.  I go into my office, because there is a speaker in the library who is currently speaking to 65 fifth graders on how her family emigrated from Cuba to America, which is a serious subject.

I sit in my chair and I lean over to Jam and I reach down and start to remove his coat.  This signals to Jam that play time as started.  And since he has been cooped up ALL DAY in the office, why should he spend one minute more in MY OFFICE?  So, he takes off. And because he is a big boy and doesn't run off, I didn't have him on a tie down.

SO HE CAN.

AND HE DOES.

Do you know about the puppy crazies?  Labs are particularly infected with them.  They will kick up their heels and then it's like their back legs spin in circles they move so fast.  Jam was GONE.  He was naked and gone.  I leaped up and was out in the library and every high schooler was staring out towards where the speaker was because of course, that's where Jam went.

He ran right to the back of the library.  Past all the high school kids and the tables, past the books.  Into the second study area and there was the big open space with 65 fifth graders.  Here was the big open space for Jam to do some wheelies.

And so he did.

Several of them.  To the delight of every one of the 65 fifth graders who had turned around to watch him pop a wheelie.

By this time, I had made it back to where he was and he saw me.  Jam blew past me to the left and went through the Spanish teacher's legs (his wife, a professor at USF was our speaker).  Jam danced around the tables and weaved in and out of the chairs as students and library personnel tried to reach out and grab him.  All us not saying a word, in deference to the speaker, who was still speaking.

It all came to an end for Jammy when he got close to Clay, a junior, who knows all of Jam's tricks.  Clay reached out and grabbed him and caught him.

There was a huge sigh of relief.

And a lesson learned.  No matter what.  Never skip the morning walk!!!