Aligning Crucial Factors
I think most readers of this blog have come to the correct conclusion that Beene is an oddball. It’s hard to pick just one, but if I 
was going to name her oddest quality, it might be how long it takes her to “wake up”. Most dogs have an On/Off switch. For example, when Mack wakes up, he’s wide awake instantly. There is no third state. He is either sleeping or bouncing off the walls. This is handy for activities like “guarding the house” and “not missing anything cool”. Beene, on the other hand, has to shake the sleep off before she becomes alert. In this context, “alert” means she’s able to recognize that neither Michelle nor I are strangers, and can distinguish between doorways and walls. It’s generally accepted that Beene is in this “alert” state from roughly 2:15 until 3:30. It’s an untestable theory because Michelle and I are at work during this time, but an untestable theory is almost the same as knowledge.
Her worst time is on the morning walk. She’s usually sufficiently groggy that she has a hard time pulling together all the factors that go into squatting to pee. This is more complicated than it may seem, so let me outline the major factors that need to be controlled in order to execute. These are in no particular order, and are of approximately equal importance, meaning that failing to control any of these factors is likely to result in abortion of the attempt. Also note that some are compound factors, contributing to the complexity of this seemingly simple (and biologically fundamental) activity:
- Realize she has to pee, that she is outside, and that outside is the venue for this activity.
- Find a suitable spot. This involves smelling the ground, but she and I are both at a loss for what constitutes an appropriate location. Corners are better than open areas, but that’s about all we know. It’s more of a “feel” thing, apparently.
- Not get distracted by unforeseeable and potentially fatal events such as birds chirping or wind rustling leaves.
- Bending her legs into the “pee squat” position without loosing focus and thinking she is just trying to sit. It’s tempting because sitting is easier than squatting.
- Have full confidence that she has to pee and not poop. She also needs to be fully committed to one or the other if she needs to do both.
This morning was about average, I counted six tries before a successful execution.
What this means is I have lots of time for thinking, but sadly the morning walk is usually before my morning espresso, so I’m not that much better off than Beene. Which explains why I haven’t solved the Construction of a Consistent Quantum Theory of Gravity problem. Instead, I count how many times she tries to pee.
about half of what we made. What did we do with left over corn? Why, fed it to the doggs, of course. Now, the actual cob is rather unhealthy for a dog since it’s hard to pass. To circumvent this problem Michelle decided to see if Mack could eat corn off the cob like a human. As it turns out, he can. It seemed oddly natural to him, and he approached it as though it was the most normal thing in the world. He must have said to himself, “This cob might not be good for my digestive system; I think I’ll try to bite the kernels off individually. When I am done eating, I shall do Calculus.” Beene, on the other hand, consumed half a cob despite our best efforts to prevent her from doing so.
He is, without a doubt, the coolest dog that has ever lived. Everyone who has spent any time with him feels this way. He is exactly what happens when evolution is allowed to run its course: he’s smallish, strong, fast, smart, sturdy, and farts. He is so engaged it’s just a blast to be around him. He’s always 100% certain that he can contribute to every activity and do something to make the current situation cooler.
For example, she believes she should be able to sit wherever the interesting stuff it happening. Now, there’s usually someone else already sitting there because, well, that’s where all the interesting stuff is happening. So, she’ll often just back up and sit on the lap of whoever is sitting there. This happens without fail when we’re at the vet (which has been happening much to frequently lately, by the way). The other day while I was reading on the porch, she walked up to me, turned around, and just casually plopped herself down on my lap and acted like it was just the most normal thing that could ever happen. Michelle, of course, felt compelled to photograph it. Beene found the scenario entirely commonplace and saw no need whatsoever for photography. Note the indignance on her face in the last photo.
