A Beagle named Lucky

How does the joke go?
A man sees an acquaintance with his dog.  The dog has bandages, is missing an eye, is limping, etc.
The man asks the owner what happened and the owner relates a few amazing tales of one-in-a-million shots resulting the dog's injuries.  The questioner is astonished and asks the dogs name.
"Lucky." the owner responds.

My dog Lucky was a case of life imitating art - or at least that joke.

Lucky was not a very pretty dog.  This is almost assuredly at least partially the result of a not very friendly beginning of life.
I don't know very much about the early part of his life, but he was found near where I worked (before I worked there).  Our department secretary ended up taking him home where he became the family dog, or more particularly her son's dog.
What we know about his early life can be read in his appearance.  His head was misproportioned as a result of injuries while young.  He had an enormous overbite and oddly shaped eyes.  Couple with this he had old-dog fat all his life, had coarse gnarly fur, walked with an odd gait and was never able to walk in a straight line.  The overbite was his striking feature.  It prevented him from eating normally and in order to drink he had to put is upper jaw on the rim of the bowl as he drank from the bowl.
A fish doesn't see the water he swims in so Lucky likely just saw himself as any other dog might.

He was Cheryl's family dog for a long time.  When I bought the first house after moving to Ohio, I needed a refrigerator.  Cheryl said they had one to offer for free.  I found out around the time I went to get it that they were getting rid of it due to the sale of the house as a result of an impending divorce.
When I went to get the fridge, I had Mandy and Sammy in the truck with me.  Apparently after leaving with the appliance, they had discussions around my taking of their beagle.  Due to the divorce and subsequent split and move, Lucky needed a new home.
We got a refrigerator and it came with a dog.

After a short visit to see how the three dogs would get along, Lucky came to live at the new house in early February.  Lucky wasn't so sure what to make of the change.  He had never lived with other dogs and due to the confusion, didn't want to be left alone.
Within a day or so of getting Lucky, I had an unwanted day off when torrential rain came along with melting snow and flooded the basement severely.  This is before several (successful) efforts were taken to mitigate the flood-prone basement.
The house was a Victorian with eight foot windows in the front.  Several of the windows weren't in prime condition and a couple panes were cracked.  On this flood day, as I went out to get the mail, I heard glass breaking a turned around to see Lucky trying to get to me through the pane that had gone from cracked to broken as a result of his efforts.  I hurried back inside to prevent him from cutting himself on the broken glass.
Plugged gutters are a pet peeve of mine and later that same day, I opened a second story window to get on the kitchen roof and unplug the lower gutters there.  After hearing a noise, I turned around to see Lucky standing unsteadily on the roof looking at me.
Remember the joke about the dog named Lucky?

Once the initial shock of his new life wore off, Lucky became of the pack.  Three dogs, soon to be four.
He was not a young dog and accepted this new living situation, but never really embracing it or understanding it.  As such, he developed an aloof nature I've rarely seen in other dogs.  This extended to most of his dog's life.
At this point in life, I was doing a lot of camping for recreation.  Lucky took to the tent well, but his aloof nature went along with him.  While camping at Old Man's Cave in Eastern Ohio, I recall one time when there was a group of us hiking while towing the dogs along on leashes.  Lucky, seeing no reason to stop happily walked along the trail and while merrily pooping along.  "Luckily" I saw this and was able to clean the material off the trail so as not to spoil any one else's hike.

His aloof nature meant that he was never my favorite dog, but he was a wonderful dog at the same time.  Never flashy, but always there.  He didn't chase and attack squirrels, didn't really like toys and was never very needy.
His one passion was licking his front feet.  Something he did a lot, and nothing could really stop it.

As he got older, he didn't exactly age gracefully.  His crooked walk got worse and his breath and eating would at times be odd.  Knowing something was going wrong, he went to the vet where a biopsy confirmed he had cancer in his head, spreading to his jaw.
He had to have his teeth removed, but this never really bothered him.  His jaw was so odd anyway, the teeth were merely grotesque decoration.  For a long time he showed no evidence of discomfort, so I let him be a dog.
Predictably, things eventually took a turn for the worse.  Toward the end, he went blind.  I think to Lucky, this was just another event in his topsy life.  He figured out that if he bumped into something but could put his head on it, it must be a step so he should walk up it.  He was actually able to navigate well with this assumption, but this resulted in his climbing on lots of stuff and resulting in much confusion.  Stacks of magazine continually knocked over, potted plants tipped with dirt all over.
Feeding became harder.  With his misshapen head, he needed daily help to "see" his food and get it out of his bowl.  This was more than just setting him in front of it to eat.
As he continued to age and deteriorate, he began regularly to relieve himself indoors.  I'm amazed that even healthy dogs can hold it as long as we sometimes ask them to so daily clean-up was part of having Lucky.  Daily moppings resulted in a very clean kitchen floor (at least parts of it).

I thought Lucky was actually improving at one point only to realize he had stopped even getting out of his bed anymore.  Lucky had his own special bed, separate from the other dogs.  This was his one constant in life.
I knew it was time.

As I drove him to the vet, I felt as bad as I've ever felt.  He is the only dog I've had to have put down.  I felt like I was signing a death warrant and almost turned around, but it was time - if not past it.  He was not comfortable, and not really even a dog anymore; not really living as a dog should.
When it was over, I was beside myself with what I had done.  I left quickly without saying anything or even paying the vet.  As hard as it was, intellectually I know it was the right thing to do.
Lucky was buried in the back yard in his special red, white and black blanket.  A flowering crab apple tree was planted above him.  Every spring, the tree flowered abundantly.  Showing his aloof nature, the tree which was supposed to never bear fruit annually delivered a huge crop of crab apples; showing the tree had absorbed Lucky, it never grew strait, but constantly crooked.

Lucky's life started out pretty hard.  He had a great life with Cheryl, and retired with me.
After he died, I received very nice cards from Cheryl and her ex-husband.  I still have those cards today.  The vet also sent me a copy of Rainbow Bridge - a poem for anyone who has lost a furry friend.

The Rainbow Bridge
 

There is a bridge connecting heaven and Earth. It is called The
Rainbow Bridge because of its many colors. Just this side of The
Rainbow Bridge there is a land of meadows, hills and valleys
with lush green grass.

 When a beloved pet dies, it goes to this place.  There is always
food and water and warm spring weather.  The old and frail
animals are young again.  Those who are maimed are made
whole again.  They play all day with each other.

There is only one thing missing.  They are not with their special
person who loved them on earth.  So each day they run and play
until the day comes when one of them suddenly stops playing and
looks up!  The nose twitches! The ears are up! The eyes are staring!
And this one suddenly runs from the group.

You have been seen, and when you and your special friend meet, you
take him or her in your arms and embrace. Your face is covered with
  kisses, and you look once more into the eyes of your  trusting pet.

 Then you both cross over The Rainbow Bridge together, never again
to be separated.

One (and only one) Vacation Picture

I just recently got back from vacation.  It was a cross-country motorcycle road trip.  Before the trip I bought a new Panasonic FZ150.  I love the new camera but to be honest, I didn't take any pictures that my old Kodak superzoom  couldn't have taken.  I did get to use some of the newer features of the camera though.
Many of the pictures of the trip were not taken with the FZ150 however, but with the old Nikon pocket camera.  More on that in a bit.

I have a friend who originally got me interested in photography.  He is by far a better photographer than I am and has much better equipment.  His interest is portrait photography.  Portrait photography is fiction.  I hope it doesn't need to be said that this is not a bad thing, there is a lot of written fiction that is very good.
Some portrait photography is bad fiction.  I can recall seeing family pictures (some that I'm in) with synthetic backgrounds, a wagon wheel in the background.  Fake smiles with just as fake trees in the celluloid pull-down screen.  Smiles covering unpleasantness with an approximation of a library out of focus behind.  Horrid.  I'd like to believe "family" portraits have universally gotten better in the last 40 years, but I won't hold my breath.
My friend has some pictures that are amazing.  But, they are composed pictures and people wearing clothes they would not otherwise wear, in situations and poses that they would not be in if not for the camera.  This is fiction.
At one time, I helped him with lighting as he was doing a shoot of models.  One of the models was frankly not very attractive.  Heroin sheek gone bad.  The pictures of her were very flattering.  I was amazed when I saw them.  She, along with several other models had aspirations of law school.  I'd bet anything it hasn't happened...for any of them.

On my recent vacation, many areas with gorgeous scenery were traversed.  The Bitteroots and the Cascades were amazing.  At the risk of taking an analogy too far, landscape photography is akin to documentary.  It can be stunning, powerful, but also painfully boring.  Ken Burns can take a great 2 hour informational movie and compress it into 14 long painful hours.
In my earlier motorcycle travels, many scenic pullouts where stopped at for pictures.  After traveling all over North America for more than 10 years now, the scenery is still as stunning, but it begins to fall flat in pictures.  No two mountains look the same, but the pictures in retrospect often do.  Canyons, lakes, rivers, oceans and bluffs are all worthy of pictures but they can get somewhat redundant.
There were some amazing landscape shots taken on the trip.  But looking at endless landscape photos of another person's vacation is like watching home movies (documentaries) about another person's children.  It gets old quick.
Often, scenery can't be taken in by a picture.  I love the big empty of western Dakotas and eastern Montana, but pictures don't do the expanse justice - even panoramas.  I have found that pictures with a flat road running through them do give the feeling that exists when in these big empty areas.  I have many pictures like this taken from the motorcycle while going down the road.  I have a hard time deciding which I like better, but I'm probably alone in that respect.

But the picture that captures the vacation wasn't from one of these scenic areas.  It happened at the Pacific Ocean, in Seaside, Oregon.  I had just had my picture taken touching the Pacific Ocean and was walking back.  A picture was taken that I didn't know about, and it caught me in one of those serene carefree moments rarely repeated.
The scene was near the apex of the trip.  Physically about as far from home as I got on the trip.  More importantly, metaphorically it was about as far from home as I got as well.  The moment the camera caught me could be thought of as in complete apathy but not in a negative way.  Relaxed without trying.

I wasn't sure if I should post the picture.  Technically it is terrible.  The late-day low-angle sunlight shrouds half my face in shadows.  The people in the background are distracting.  I'm in it and I do not like having my picture taken.  On a motorcycle there is only room for so much clothes so I'm wearing atypical beach clothes; cargo shorts and a slightly grubby t-shirt, socks and cheapo imitation Chuck Taylor's.
Anybody looking through a stack of pictures would not give a second glance to this picture, and it isn't even one of my favorites.  It probably is the picture I've gone back to more often though.
The moment that picture was taken though can't be repeated.  It would not be possible to compose the moment in a portrait.  It is a representation, a snapshot, of why vacation exists at all.
It is non-fiction.  Like any non-fiction, it can help put reality in perspective - hopefully.

Panasonic Lumix FZ150

And the winner is...

A few weeks ago, I was in the process of deciding what new camera I wanted to buy.  I had decided on the Fuji HS30.  Shortly after that, I took a short motorcycle trip which gives me lots of time to think on roads I've been on many times.  I noodled over the differences in the cameras and decided many of the descriptions of the HS30 had one troubling feature - that the focus could be slow.  Several reviews called it lazy.  After looking into the hard numbers for focus and lock times, I changed my mind and bought the Panasonic Lumix FZ150.  I think I would have been happy with the HS30 and I really like that it has a manual zoom, but so far, the FZ150 has met my expectations.

My picture taking falls into three categories.
1.  Candid shots with friends or at family gatherings, etc.  I really think the best option here is a quality point and shoot.  The small sensor allows for a broad depth of field and the camera can be handed to anyone to take pictures.  Cost is low and if it is dropped or broken it is not a big loss.
An SLR is an OK option, but cost is high and the large sensor can be a negative at times with a too-narrow depth of field.  The super-zoom is an adequate option filling the definition of a bridge camera.

Candid pictures of the dogs show the FZ150 is perfectly capable here with fast focus times and very good resolution.  The picture below is of Jackson lounging in the back yard.

On an extreme crop into his back, we can see the even though this is a picture taken at a moderate zoom, the resolution is more than adequate to see individual hairs on his back.  This is pretty impressive.

2.  Vacation photos.  A small point and shoot runs into problems for anything but the relatively close shots.  SLR cameras are great for this IF you are willing to lug around a few lenses and have the tenacity to bring them with you when venturing away from the storage capacity of a motor vehicle.  But, here is where the super-zoom or bridge camera shines.  Good resolution, light weight, easy to carry and sufficient zoom to compose pictures well.
Since much of my vacationing is hunting or with limited capacity of what I can store in my motorcycle saddle bags, the super-zoom makes most sense for me.

I'll be going on vacation soon and will have more of an opportunity to test the FZ150 in this capacity.  I really wish I had played with the High Dynamic Range (HDR) capability of the Panasonic for the picture above, but there will be other opportunities for that in the future.
It is the gunner, not the gun...  Vacation pictures are also where composition makes the difference between a great picture and a painful one.  In 2009 I went bear hunting.  While getting pictures taken with my bear, I gave my camera to Ed.  His pictures were not bad, they were terrible.  How anyone can take a point and shoot camera and take such terrible pictures is beyond me.  Every shot was poorly framed.  Luckily, Stan took some good pictures to capture the event.
I've also seen pictures of friends vacations where every picture is a close-up of a person.  These could commemorate the occasion, but they might as well be taken in the back yard.

I have at times gone to great lengths to get the right vacation picture.  There is one extreme example of this.  In 2008 I rode my motorcycle to Alaska.  On the way north, there was a place where I was able to get a great picture of the Alaska Highway.  After viewing the picture later however, the light was just not right and the drain tile in the frame was distracting.

On the way into Southeastern Alaska nearly a week later, I backtracked hundreds of miles to retake the picture.  The light was near perfect and the composed shot was wonderful.  I'm very glad I had the time and took the time to do this as it has to be one of the best pictures of that entire trip.

3.  Pictures for sake of photography.  These are the pictures that I take just for the fun of it.  Cropping is cheating and anything beyond minor post photograph manipulation is also wrong.  I might even call them art.  Often, I see a picture on-line, in a magazine or anywhere and it sparks an idea of what I would like to try.  Here, an SLR is by far the best choice if one is willing to invest in many lenses.  As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I still have my Pentax K1000, but the benefits of digital photography means it stays in the closet unused.  I still wish someone would make a less expensive digital fully manual student camera compatible with old lenses (these can often be bought on the cheap).  Alas, I doubt this will happen.  The super-zoom is an adequate choice for this and more than adequate as long as there is enough light.  To quote a letter to the British Journal of photography from 1880, "This new fangled idea of ready-made plates takes all the fun out of photography.  The next stage might be a shop to produce prints and lantern slides to order -- but that is too distressing to anticipate." This is not a new issue for a Luddite.

Compared to other digital non-SLR cameras I have used, the focus times on the FZ150 are excellent. At wide angle, the lock time is near instantaneous. I've been desperately trying to get a picture of one of the hummingbirds in the Rose of Sharon bush near the house. I still have not succeeded in getting a good one, but I can't blame the camera for that. This picture was taken through the screen in the front window. The picture is not that good, but does demonstrate the ability of the Panasonic to focus quickly in a challenging environment.

I love macro photography.  The FZ150 does a great job in this, much better than I expected.  Wide angle focusing is approximately 1cm.  It has a 52mm lense thread which accepts filters.  This is great since I have 52mm macro filters which allow very close focusing even at longer zoom ranges.  There is some vignetting, but I can accept that for the flexibility this allows during composed pictures.

Yesterday, I planted some paw paw trees that I had started from seeds.  This morning was one of the first dewy fall-like mornings of the year which allowed a great opportunity to capture the small plants in low angle sunrise light.

So what don't I like about the camera?  Everything in life is a trade-off.  Everything.
The manual controls are not as easy as they could be.  This is somewhat offset by the abilities of the Program mode of the camera.  There should be easier access to the ISO setting in full manual mode and a faster method to access all functionality after the controls disappear from the screen.
I don't fully understand the flash use on this camera and the manual does not describe it very well.  It works flawlessly in fully automatic mode, but in the more creative modes it is a little obtuse.  So far, I tend to get overexposed shots when using the fill flash mode (not in full auto though).  I'm sure I'll figure this out.  In the interim, Intelligent Automatic mode works well for this.
I originally ordered the camera from an East Coast vendor who had a price a little better than amazon.com.  Several days after ordering it, I still had not received notice that it shipped.  Only after I contacted them did they inform me that they were no longer carrying this (popular) camera as the FZ200 had just been announced.  I found it odd that the FZ150 would not be sold as it is likely months until the FZ200 will be readily available.  The advancement of the FZ200 camera is a full f2.8 throughout the zoom range which is quite an optical engineering feat.  As there is no such thing as "best" I decided not to wait for this option which would have taken at least months to get and cost approximately $200 more.

As of now, I'm happy with my purchase of the Lumix FZ150.  It does what it advertised and does it very well.  I may have been just as happy with any of the other options, but as I was still relatively happy with my old super-zoom, I anticipate many good pictures from the Panasonic.

Vacation is only a few weeks away.  This will be a true test of the camera to perform as well as a robustness test as it bounces around the country in a saddle bag through whatever weather I can find.

A Beagle Named Sammy

It is fitting to write about Sammy right after Mandy.  They were siblings.  Separated in age by many years.  No, there was probably no genetics shared between them, but those two misfits loved each other one minute, then fought to blood the next, exactly like human siblings.

Sammy came from the same humane shelter as Mandy.  I was working and going to school full time so the right thing to say was that it probably wasn't the best time to have one dog let alone two.  Instead, I thought Mandy would be happier by not being alone all the time I was at school or work; besides, I really wanted another dog.  I was away a lot, but my hectic driving schedule made it pretty easy to stop at home frequently.
The shelter again had several beagles available.  One was a very sweet beagle mixed with a little bit of basset.  She was scheduled to be in the newspaper as one of their ad dogs in the near future.  The policy of the shelter was that dogs in the news paper had to be available for a few weeks after being in the paper and then if there was multiple parties interested, there was a complicated choice system.  Net, it would be many weeks, if I would have gotten her.  Sammy on the other hand was the runt of a litter of sickly beagle pups that came in.  All the other pups died shortly after being brought in but somehow Sammy did not, even though she was very small and had a hernia.  I'm not sure how I could have said no to her.
After the usual hoops to jump through, I was able to pick her up on a late Friday.  I didn't want her to have another weekend in the shelter, so I picked her up on the way to school for a night class.  The temperature was such that she would be fine in the truck while I was in class, and it was scheduled to be a short class.
On the way to school, Sammy squirmed her way out of her cardboard box and jumped all over, the puppy that she was.  Distracted by this, I locked my keys in the vehicle as I leaving for class.  I had a friend who was a police officer at the school, he stopped by after I was able to call the security office. He made short order of the door with a slim jim and I got my keys.  Luckily, Brandon did not see that I had a puppy in the car.

After class, I got back to my car.  Not surprisingly, Sammy was not in her box.  She had pooped in my truck as well.  Luckily, it was a pretty awful truck with a plastic interior so clean-up was not an issue.
I went home and after the typical dog smelling, Mandy and Sammy quickly bonded.  Sammy was probably the easiest dog to house train, likely because Mandy had learned the rules, and helped.  I'm not sure if this is actually possible, but any time Sammy had an accident, Mandy barked like crazy, "Don't do that in the house!  It makes 'em mad!"

Mandy and Sammy quickly became best friends.  They slept most of the day in a small bed; there were actually two beds, but they were always in the same one.  They shared food, but only out of different bowls.  They fought about everything.  Both dogs had split ears (Sammy's were far worse) from the fights, those long floppy beagle ears are very vulnerable.  The fights only lasted a few minutes and were followed by dog-apologies.  In one notable case after moving to Ohio, Sammy and Mandy were with me on the way home from running errands, with a stop for pigs ears at the pet store.  The pig ears in the bag instigated a fight that ended up under the brake pedal.  Luckily, it didn't turn out as poorly as it could have.

Sammy was definitely the trouble maker.  The dog gates meant nothing to her.  Two dog gates on top of each other meant nothing to her.  There was nothing she couldn't find her way around or through.  She learned to open cupboards to extract toys - blender, a full container of Crisco, dog food.  I had to put child locks on all the cupboards for years because of her.  Any door that was ajar was completely open to her deft paws.
In the apartment after moving to Ohio, Sammy and Mandy had to be tied up in the kitchen when home alone.  Sammy found a way to open a drawer, climb on the counter, share the dog treats and go to the other side.  Her leash was just long enough to not hang her and she dug through the drywall, creating a shelf to get a paw on, back onto the counter and to the correct side.  Imagine the surprise when I came home to the dog treat jar talking (Snausages, Snausages...) a hole in the wall, and two innocent looking beagles.  It was never a dull moment with her.
She loved the squirrels in the back yard.  She would spend hours stalking them, wanting to come in and peer out the back door until they returned from the safety of the trees, to be let out and stalk them again.  I don't remember her ever catching one, but she never tired of this as a young dog.  Even as she got older she had a lust for all small mammals.  I tried a couple times to take her to hunt bunnies, but she had an innate fear of guns.  I let her run around while I unsuccessfully hunted.  She was happier that way.

I got more beagles through the years, to a total of 4 for quite a while.  Sammy got crabbier as she got older.  Her perfect world was the two people in her life and Mandy, that's it.  She tolerated some of the other dogs, notably Dixie, but had an obvious distaste for Lucky and Soda.  She really didn't even like other people very much.  In one case when there was a house full of people, Sammy broke the rules to go upstairs to get away from all the people.  Unlike most of my dogs, she hated the vet, and kenneling was terrible for her.
Through all this Mandy and Sammy had a bond none of my other beagles have ever had.  When Mandy  died, I hung her collar from the rear view mirror in my truck where it remains today.  A few weeks later, Sammy was in the truck and craned her neck to put her nose on the collar and smell it.  A beagle always looks a little sad and Sammy was more expressive than most, but there is no doubt she missed Mandy.

Sammy aged like us all.  She pursued small mammals less, and looked more for opportunities to sleep in a comfortable spot or sit by the kerosene heater in the winter.  She started to go down hill quickly.  A trip to the vet concluded her liver and kidneys were not acting normally.  There were three options, expensive treatment which was likely to do little, put her down, or do nothing.  She still had that Sammy spark, so I couldn't put her down.  She hated the vet, so I didn't want to let her live her last few months as a permanent patient, I believe that is selfishly cruel to do to any dog.  She went home and we tried to make her as comfortable as possible.  A day or so before she died, she curled up on the couch with me, something she didn't do very often as getting on the couch was not easy for her.  I'd like to believe it was her goodbye.

Sammy was the only dog I've gotten as a puppy.  She and Mandy were best friends, and in many ways my best friends; they were both with me through some rough times.  She was probably the most mischievous dog I've ever had, but never in a deliberate way; she was a total free spirit.  Anybody would be lucky to have had a dog like Sammy in their life.  I know I was.

A beagle named Mandy

A week ago I took a quick trip to Michigan to see an old friend.  This weekend, a different Michigan friend stopped by on his way home from a trip to Deal's Gap and the Blue Ridge Parkway.  Our various dogs came up while talking with both friends, albeit briefly.
This led me to want to immortalize all my dogs here.  I have previously said I could write my autobiography based on my dogs, when I had them, their timelines.  Since it is doubtful I will ever have a need to write an autobiography, I trade on this exercise.

I bought my first house when I was in college.  I was looking at what I was paying in rent and saying, 'this is crazy.'  As long as I don't mind living in the not-so-good part of town, I can own a house for a lot less than rent.  I bought a very old house in a quiet blue collar section of town.
Shortly after moving in, I really wanted to get a dog.  It had to be a beagle.  Having just moved in, money was short, and I was somewhat opposed to the idea of "buying" a dog anyway.  A friend called the local Humane Society animal shelter and found out they had several beagles available for adoption. I was stunned; what kind of idiot gets rid of a beagle?  Other dogs yes, but a beagle?

A few days later I went to the shelter and they did have several beagles.  I looked at all the beagles as well as a few other dogs.  I had no intention of getting anything but a beagle, but there is nothing wrong with looking at the cherry cheesecake even if you know you are going to get the giant chocolate chip cookie with ice cream and caramel sauce.
The dogs fell pretty cleanly into two groups.  On entering the cage, one group tucked the tail between their legs (if it wasn't there already) and scurried to the back of the cage.  The other group ran up to me, tongues out of holsters ready to jump and lick, desperate for any attention.  I can't imagine what it must be like for these animals.  Being in a shelter already suggests life has not been sweetness, but these cacophonous places are animal stress exhibits.
One dog was different.  She was sitting in the middle of her cage and on entering, she held her ground, looked at me and gave a low growl.  The shelter volunteer started to say something to the effect of, "well, I guess we don't want to look at this one."  Before she could finish I said emphatically, "I want this one!"
She exhibited some hound curiosity once she was let out of her cage.  After filling out the application, the shelter volunteer, who was a new recruit, gave the application to the supervisor.  Immediately, the supervisor said they had a policy against giving dogs to college students.  Before I could say anything, the volunteer complained and pointed out I owned a house with a yard and would be a great owner.  I was upset, but the volunteer seemed more so.  The supervisor relented.

Once I got Mandy home, it was clear she was not house trained.  She had beagle obstinance and she was terrified of stairs.  It seemed like it took a long time to get her house trained, but in reality it was probably only a couple weeks.  Once house trained, she was the alpha dog that helped train subsequent dogs about the evils of eliminating in the house.  In short order, she conquered her fear of stairs and followed me everywhere.

Mandy was a source of pure joy.  She loved car rides and went everywhere with me.  Her pully-dog run was eventually supplanted with a full fenced in yard.  She was absolutely, 100% loyal to me, and only to me.  Although she was not a a trained hunting dog, she did hunt bunnies with me on occasion.  In one hunting adventure, she had kicked up a rabbit or two before running to the back of the field which bordered a pasture containing cows.  The cows where right by the fence.  When she saw them, she ran up to the fence and howled like a mad dog.  She seemed to be saying, "I got the biggest rabbits in the world, shoot now and we're set for life!!!!"

During college, I had an out-of-state internship for one summer.  A friend stayed at the house and took care of my dogs.  When I got home from New Jersey, glad to be out of that state, Mandy saw me at the gate and went ballistic.  My dogs have almost always been glad to see me, but never like this.  It was like her life was back where it should be; things were as they should be.  There was much joy in beagle-ville.

Mandy would not eat when I first got her; odd for a hound.  She got over that quickly.  While she was never a chewer, she would eat any food she could get her mouth on.  In one example, I received a pizza delivery, put it on the kitchen table and went to talk to my neighbor next door.  When I got back, the whole pizza was gone and Mandy was back on the floor with a rock hard belly.  She skipped a meal or two for a day after that.

She moved with me to SW Ohio into the horrible little apartment and then into my second house.  More dogs joined but Mandy was always alpha.  I've hear parents claim they love all their kids equally, but the honest ones admit to favorites.  There was no question Mandy was special to me.
She got sick just before the second Christmas in the house.  Our usual vet was gone on a trip south to family.  A different vet saw her and said she was a very sick dog, but he too was going out of town, referring Mandy to a third vet.  That vet kept Mandy overnight, giving her fluids and medicine before releasing her.  I made the mistake shortly after that of taking her on a brief Christmas trip to see family.  The trip was cut short when Mandy's condition deteriorated.  I recall driving home very late at night in terrible black ice conditions to get her back to her usual vet.  The next morning, she had past.

I've had several other dogs and I've loved them all, but none like Mandy.  I still regret, still feel guilty about that Christmas trip even though I know on an intellectual level that there was likely little that could have been done even if I hadn't taken it.  I still miss her today, all these years later.

I bought a camera shortly after I got Mandy mostly so I could get pictures of her.  Many are not of good quality, blurry - the result of buying a camera from a pawn shop.  But, I'll never forget her.  All of my dogs have had unique personalities.  But, Mandy was my first dog, never to be copied.

From that first growl, thanks for being my friend Mandy.

Which Camera? Too Many Choices

Choice can be good.  The apocalyptic future of everyone wearing a grey v-neck jump suit isn't for most of us.
Choices can be bad.  There are almost too many options for too many things.  This isn't a big deal when choosing a brand of toothpaste, but for larger purchases it can be annoying.

Getting honest objective help is also a problem.  Most commercial sources will never say, "This product is horrid and should be avoided at all costs unless you want to be screwed."  This is partially because most products out there are reasonably good and have been tested well enough to do what is advertised.  No manufacturer wants to recreate the Apple Newton.
Most consumer sourced advice is a threat.  The complainers will always scream louder than those who are comfortably happy with an individual purchase.  Real world advice from message boards must be read through the lense of allowing some people to complain.  There is also a subset who will insist after a purchase that what they spent so much time researching and so much money purchasing is the end-all product and anybody of differs in thinking is an idiot.
Sorry Consumer Reports, your one-size-fits-all approach to reviewing products is lacking, and I'd take it for free, but refuse to pay for it.

Many years ago, I had significantly more interest in photography.  I bought several student-grade 35mm SLR cameras, lenses and accessories and took reams of pictures.  I loved the overall mechanicalness of the purely manual SLR.  Firearms that shoot film.  In the end, I settled on two Pentax K-1000 bodies, one for color, the other black and white film.  This allowed me to share my lenses between the two.  I also have an old Fujica St-701LED camera.  This was an innovative SLR that used LEDs in the light meter.   However, it required very special lenses.  I keep it as much for nostalgia as anything else since it was my first SLR camera.
I really enjoyed interacting with the small photography shop where I got my prints. I liked the surprise of seeing how a specific shot turned out when it was surprisingly good.  I was only rarely disappointed that no pictures of any specific even turned out.  It did happen though.
In the end however, I bought two digital cameras before a motorcycle trip to Alaska since I just couldn't justify the room that an SLR camera would take with a couple lenses.  A Kodak super-zoom camera made much better sense (and in retrospect, I believe this was a good choice).  The price was right, on clearance at Wally World.  The other mini point and shoot camera broke half way to Alaska.  Fred Meijer sold me a replacement in Fairbanks.
Since then, I've rarely used either Pentax K-1000.  The small photography shop is gone and getting prints of every picture made is not worth the time, effort or money.  For much of what I do, my Kodak is more than adequate.

I've decided it is time to get a new camera however.  This really isn't that big of a purchase, but it is worth spending at least a little time researching.  I like the idea of going with an SLR camera.  However, most of my pictures are taken on vacation and most travel is by motorcycle.  I still have a hard time justifying the room the SLR will take up with spare lenses.  There is a fragility in all the moving parts of the SLR camera.  The newer switchable lense non-SLR cameras are very intriguing.  For the average hobby photographer, I do not think the additional complication of the mirror really has an advantage in the full SLR.  Both of these also have more potential to get dust/dirt/grease on the internals of the camera causing degraded performance or worse.
Since I want more than just a point-n-shoot, that leads me back to super zooms.  These are a good compromise (read trade-off) and some of the newer ones have great features nearing the capabilities of the SLR.
With that as background, here were my options:
Pentax K-01:  This is a a neat option, a switch lense camera that I can use all my existing K-1000 lenses with (some with stop-down metering, but that is not difficult).  However, this is a large camera as necessitated by the focal length of the older 35mm lense.  The form over function advertising on this camera ultimately scared me away.
Sony A37-SLT:  The semi-translucent lense on this SLR camera allows both an eye piece and a decent viewing screen.  This camera also has one of the fastest auto-focus mechanisms by nature of the semi-translucent mirror.  I've opted not to go this route due to the previously mentioned personal limitations that an SLR camera brings.
On to the super-zooms.  There are many similar options to choose from.  Many of the major manufacturers make very good consumer choices here.  Surprisingly, the two that I like the most both come from the same manufacturer, Fuji.
Fuji X-S1:  This is a fixed lense super-zoom that actually has a large CMOS detector as opposed to the tiny ones most manufacturers use (which is also part of the reason the super-zoom idea works).  The negatives with this camera are size and weight as an indirect result of the large sensor.  I still might go this route, but cost is also a factor.  And, although I haven't seen build quality be written of as an issue, I don't like the idea of it bouncing around for weeks in the saddle bag.
Fuji HS30-EXR:  I'm pretty sure this is what I'm going to get.  It has a reasonably sized CMOS sensor.  A very good zoom (frankly too long), good optics and enough features to keep it interesting.  It is also relatively well regarded for macro photography, which I find terribly interesting at times.

I've got a short trip coming up with a longer vacation near the end of summer.  On my short trip, I'll bring my ancient but perfectly adequate Kodak camera (alongside my 10-year old GPS).  This will give me a chance to ponder whether I really need a new camera; I probably do not.
In the interim, I have an online shopping cart already filled with camera, UV filter, spare battery and 32GB memory card.  All I have to do is press the check-out button.

On Quitting Drinking

It has been two years since I drank any alcohol.  I'm not sure if that is an accomplishment or not?

Despite attempts by various recovery groups to change this, the labels associated with overindulgence of any kind are pretty heavy.  So I personally reject them.  Suffice to say, I enjoyed my beer.

This whole thing started several years ago.  Stopping drinking was a lot like knocking over a Pepsi machine.  It couldn't be done in one push.  You don't just walk up to one of those things and push them over.  You have to get it rocking back and forth, and then with one more heave, over it goes.
A little over two years ago, work was getting very stressful.  That was also around the time I was thinking I really wanted to move, which can also cause some stress (the housing market was far from rosy).  Between these two things, it was too easy to get home after a long day and use inappropriate (and frankly ineffective) coping means.  For far too long, alcohol was a distraction.  Some health issues came up as well.  This was not something caused by alcohol, but definitely exasperated by it.  That was the shove that was needed to push over the Pepsi machine.
How did I stop?  I'm not sure, but I just did.  I didn't seek out help, although I threatened myself with it.  Too much of my work life is spent in painfully long meetings, and the thought of doing that in my personal time frequently seemed at least as bad as the alternative.  I also didn't want to trade one problematic habit with another one.

Some of the time, this wasn't easy.  And, it was a significant adjustment, but I like where I am.
I have never approached this as some do with the zeal of a convert.  This was my Pepsi machine to vandalize.  My deamon to slay on my own terms.  This was not something to be shared.
I have one bottle of Bear Republic Red Rocket Ale on a high shelf in the kitchen.  I half-jokingly tell myself that that will be the next bottle I will drink, so all I have to do is not drink it.  Simple...

I'm not sure whether to talk the good or bad about this so I'll start with the bad.  I do miss it at times.  I miss the social lubrication of alcohol.  I'm not the most outgoing person, and alcohol helped as a personal aid.  I can be walking my dog home after a long week on a blazing hot afternoon and think there could be a big bottle of a Belgian Triple in the refrigerator, or a few 6-packs waiting for me.  But, no more.  Alcohol involves all the senses.  I miss the smell of cooking wort when making my own beer.  The clink of beer bottles in the grocery store reminds me of it.  The spray of opening a bottle or can and the glug of liquid being poured over ice.  There is something lost.
I have never woke up on a Saturday morning and wished I had a hangover.  Never.  Not once.  I wake up early in the morning and after a few creeks from getting older, I feel good, refreshed.  My morning coffee is a happy ritual, not something I feel I need to survive.  In social or semi-social situations, I still blunder or say the wrong thing, but I at least have a chance of catching myself first and make instant corrections.  I don't wake  up the next day with vague recollections of being an ass, or incomplete memory of why my arm hurts so much.  I have more time to do things I really enjoy doing; sometimes too much, but true boredom is very rare.  The amount of money I have NOT spent on alcohol is pretty fantastic.  My blood pressure is lower, almost too low.  I've lost weight.  Life's lows are not nearly as crushing; the highs can be diminished as well, but that could leave more room for the creamy middles.  I am happier.

I do rarely go to bars or happy hour.  I don't miss the alcohol there, or feel some crazy craving.  I'm just out of place, like a band member in the middle of a performance, with sheet music in front of me, but my tuba was left at home.
I have tested myself a couple times.  I used to make lamps out of old bottles.  Drilling a hole in the bottom and running wires up to a fixture contained in the cap.  A few months after I stopped I found a bottle of Crown Royal with a few dregs in it.  I opened the cap and smelled it.  It was like being hit with a cinder block.  I still have that bottle.  A friend had a party not that long ago.  Literally, with the exception of one person, everyone was drunk, some very much so.  I enjoyed it (the party) though.  It was odd having nearly the same conversation with the same person a few times during the night.  And some really dumb things were said (by myself as well as those who were drinking).  Part way through the night I realized that in the morning, if any of what was happening was remembered by people other than me, it would likely be a scratchy movie at best.  That realization made the time even more fun.

Three books were pretty insightful as well as helpful with this adventure:
Pete Hamil's A Drinking Life is a great book.  One of the criticism's I've heard of this book is that it is very little about drinking.  Read with the right eyes (and history), it is there.  I actually have the last section of this book photocopied and reread it occasionally.  I've even used his explanation for not drinking, "No thanks, I have no talent for it."
Carolyn Knapp's Drinking was probably too close to my own experience.  Still, I enjoyed the book.  I don't know what this means, but it was written from a feminine perspective that I had a hard time relating to.
Neil Steinberg's Drunkard was also exceptionally good.  His writing style is engaging, and he relates strongly how personal this can be while writing about it publicly.

I don't know what will happen in the next two years, but I'm ready for it.  Drawing an analogy too far, there is a Pepsi machine on the ground, and I'm walking away from it.  This sounds arrogant and self-congratulatory, but I'm a better person now than I was.