Jimmy etc.

Today turned out quite differently than what I expected. I picked Jimmy up at around 8 AM and we drove down to Moriches to this trainer guy. Jimmy was a perfect gentleman in the car and we had no problems getting there (until we got to the twisty, hilly road, and then he threw up on the blanket.) Mostly he sat in the backseat and looked out the window, once in a while sticking his nose over the front seat to lick me.

We pulled up to this big ranch with a million horses, and the trainer came out. Jimmy just lost it then, trying to lunge through the window to get at this guy. The guy told me that we'd do some testing in a field near the ranch, and I followed him (he drives a motorbike) to said field, where he instructed me to act like I was just taking Jimmy for a walk, while he stood by and pretended to ignore Jimmy. This is to see if Jimmy is just defensive, or if he is trying to instigate a fight himself. Well, of course, Jimmy wasn't about to let a stranger stand within a few yards of him, and he was lunging and snapping at the end of the leash even when I was telling him to walk with me. ("Hele on," I tell him, or "tread along." I can't just say "walk" like anyone else, no.)

Then I put Jimmy back in my car and the trainer went to the car and said, "Hi, baby!" to him, and put his hand on the window. Jimmy tried to bite him through the window.

"He's not joking around," trainer sais. "He means it."

Yes, I'm thinking, I know this. I got up at 7 on my day off and drove 150 miles today to hear what I already know?

"But," the trainer said, "I think I have a place for him."

My head whipped around so fast I thought I gave myself whiplash. Did this guy just say he could place Jimmy? After all these months, it's really that easy?!

He immediately called K9 Powerhouse. Apparently, they're on the lookout for big, tough dogs for jobs in security. Basically, the way he explained it to me, it works like this: Jimmy gets one handler, probably a woman, since he takes better to women. During nights, they work together to guard places. In the day, he has a kennel to sleep in. He's fed well and comfortable.

Me, I have to check this all out to make sure it's all to the good. As the trainer said, "Better alive with and a purpose than dead." I agree, but I have to make certain that this place is for real, that it's not secretly going to turn Jimmy into a fighting dog or some other brutal thing, or some chained-up junkyard dog chasing teenagers over a fence and then chewing on a hambone. I'm sure that this guy--a professional trainer--would not send any dog off to a life like that, but still, one never knows.

So I sent out emails to people in the dog world, especially the lady at Search and Rescue who referred me to this trainer, and to Mindy Washington, who knows just about everyone in the world. If anything bad goes on at this place, she will have heard about it (and probably written articles about it.)

If it's all good, though, then Jimmy goes to his new home/workplace this week. Then, he will have someone to protect, which is really what I think he wants. He'll have someone to love, and something to focus on. Of course, I'll probably cry when I have to say goodbye to him, but I'll be fine knowing he'll be doing something good, and not shipped off to be kenneled for a month and then put to sleep.

After dropping Jimmy back off at work, I went grocery shopping. It occurred to me as I was going to the checkout line that everything in my cart was organic; that was very cool. I bought some beet greens for Pendragon, and of course I pulled the actual beets off because I don't want to get charged for them when I'm not going to use them. The girl at the register said, "Hey...where'd the beets go?" I said, "Uhh...they came like that. But it's okay, I wasn't going to use them. I'm just going to give the greens to my iguana." She said that her brother had an iguana that had had kidney problems (me, nodding my head to say, "Yes, don't they all?!") and that he had to take him to the vet. I asked which vet and, as you can guess, she said, "that guy on the east end." I said, "Yeah, that's where I work." She said she'd brought her dog there, and of course it ended up that I knew her dog. It's funny, when someone thinks they know me or I know them, I always have to ask the name of there pet before I know who they are. (She also mentioned that one of the ladies up front had given her attitude a few months ago and she hadn't been back since. I think I know exactly who it was. I assured her that we'd had some staff changes since then and was willing to bet that the woman who'd been rude to her was gone.)

I have to take Pendragon to work with me tomorrow, to have his tail looked at once more. I have no idea which way this is going to go. Actually, I have in inkling: I foresee a repeat of last year. >_> Not freaking pleasant.

Well, Kung Fu tonight...I wonder what we're doing?

Jimmy etc.

Today turned out quite differently than what I expected. I picked Jimmy up at around 8 AM and we drove down to Moriches to this trainer guy. Jimmy was a perfect gentleman in the car and we had no problems getting there (until we got to the twisty, hilly road, and then he threw up on the blanket.) Mostly he sat in the backseat and looked out the window, once in a while sticking his nose over the front seat to lick me.

We pulled up to this big ranch with a million horses, and the trainer came out. Jimmy just lost it then, trying to lunge through the window to get at this guy. The guy told me that we'd do some testing in a field near the ranch, and I followed him (he drives a motorbike) to said field, where he instructed me to act like I was just taking Jimmy for a walk, while he stood by and pretended to ignore Jimmy. This is to see if Jimmy is just defensive, or if he is trying to instigate a fight himself. Well, of course, Jimmy wasn't about to let a stranger stand within a few yards of him, and he was lunging and snapping at the end of the leash even when I was telling him to walk with me. ("Hele on," I tell him, or "tread along." I can't just say "walk" like anyone else, no.)

Then I put Jimmy back in my car and the trainer went to the car and said, "Hi, baby!" to him, and put his hand on the window. Jimmy tried to bite him through the window.

"He's not joking around," trainer sais. "He means it."

Yes, I'm thinking, I know this. I got up at 7 on my day off and drove 150 miles today to hear what I already know?

"But," the trainer said, "I think I have a place for him."

My head whipped around so fast I thought I gave myself whiplash. Did this guy just say he could place Jimmy? After all these months, it's really that easy?!

He immediately called K9 Powerhouse. Apparently, they're on the lookout for big, tough dogs for jobs in security. Basically, the way he explained it to me, it works like this: Jimmy gets one handler, probably a woman, since he takes better to women. During nights, they work together to guard places. In the day, he has a kennel to sleep in. He's fed well and comfortable.

Me, I have to check this all out to make sure it's all to the good. As the trainer said, "Better alive with and a purpose than dead." I agree, but I have to make certain that this place is for real, that it's not secretly going to turn Jimmy into a fighting dog or some other brutal thing, or some chained-up junkyard dog chasing teenagers over a fence and then chewing on a hambone. I'm sure that this guy--a professional trainer--would not send any dog off to a life like that, but still, one never knows.

So I sent out emails to people in the dog world, especially the lady at Search and Rescue who referred me to this trainer, and to Mindy Washington, who knows just about everyone in the world. If anything bad goes on at this place, she will have heard about it (and probably written articles about it.)

If it's all good, though, then Jimmy goes to his new home/workplace this week. Then, he will have someone to protect, which is really what I think he wants. He'll have someone to love, and something to focus on. Of course, I'll probably cry when I have to say goodbye to him, but I'll be fine knowing he'll be doing something good, and not shipped off to be kenneled for a month and then put to sleep.

After dropping Jimmy back off at work, I went grocery shopping. It occurred to me as I was going to the checkout line that everything in my cart was organic; that was very cool. I bought some beet greens for Pendragon, and of course I pulled the actual beets off because I don't want to get charged for them when I'm not going to use them. The girl at the register said, "Hey...where'd the beets go?" I said, "Uhh...they came like that. But it's okay, I wasn't going to use them. I'm just going to give the greens to my iguana." She said that her brother had an iguana that had had kidney problems (me, nodding my head to say, "Yes, don't they all?!") and that he had to take him to the vet. I asked which vet and, as you can guess, she said, "that guy on the east end." I said, "Yeah, that's where I work." She said she'd brought her dog there, and of course it ended up that I knew her dog. It's funny, when someone thinks they know me or I know them, I always have to ask the name of there pet before I know who they are. (She also mentioned that one of the ladies up front had given her attitude a few months ago and she hadn't been back since. I think I know exactly who it was. I assured her that we'd had some staff changes since then and was willing to bet that the woman who'd been rude to her was gone.)

I have to take Pendragon to work with me tomorrow, to have his tail looked at once more. I have no idea which way this is going to go. Actually, I have in inkling: I foresee a repeat of last year. >_> Not freaking pleasant.

Well, Kung Fu tonight...I wonder what we're doing?

(no subject)

Sometimes, like most people, I suppose, I get totally down on how I look and I can fall into the whole self hate thing. Once in a while I say to myself, "hey, fatass, go look for diets and excerize on the internet, find something that will get the job done fast." With some combination of keywords including "weight loss" "fat" and some other things, this page came up.

So you know, I'm not one of these Sark-quoting, guru-following new-agers, and often a page done in this color of purple sets off my alarm bells: "Hippie nonsense! New-age spiritual wannabes! I'll bet there's a drum circle involved!" But instead, it did have a really interesting point of view:

Patriarchal culture, I learned, subjects woman's belly to both overt and covert violence. The modern methods of disempowerment include sexual assault, unnecessary hysterectomies and Caesarean sections, restrictions on women's authority in pregnancy and childbirth, and reproductive technology that depreciates women's wombs. They include belly-belittling diet schemes, Barbie dolls, pinch-an-inch apparel with built-in corsetry, and instant-slimming undergarments. (snip)

Patriarchal culture, by definition, literally hates women's guts. For thousands of years Western culture has made war on women's bellies; such brutality has made the belly an uncomfortable place in which to be. I understood why so many women, myself included, have suffered through compulsive dieting, compulsive eating, anorexia, and bulimia, enacting the ambivalence we feel about our bellies. In a culture which subordinates women and shames women's bellies, those of us who have internalized the culture's animosity can all too easily make the belly the focus of our self-contempt.

Isn't that totally interesting? I've never looked at it that way before.

Inspired, I wondered if I could find a website that had similar views on the standards to which we hold our faces, you know, big eyes, chibi noses, high cheekbones, huge lips and all of that. It would be nice to see web pages that encouraged acceptance instead of rejection. To that end, I went out looking for sites on an anti cosmetic surgery.

Note the first page that comes up if you google these terms. It's maddening that not only the first site on the list, but most of the subsequent ones, are on "anti aging and cosmetic surgery." Pro cosmetic surgery! Even if you google the exact phrase "anti cosmetic surgery", most of the pages that come up are still PRO cosmetic surgery, with the mention of "anti cosmetic surgery" being more along the lines of, "I'm not against cosmetic surgery! Trust me, I'm not!"

This just makes me so sad. When I was a kid, and all through my teenage years (and a bit into college,) I would try to find ways to purposely break my nose so that I would have no choice but to look different. Sometimes the thought is still there, very, very quiet in the back of my mind: "If I had a totally minor car accident... If I took a fall and didn't get otherwise hurt..." What makes me the maddest is that I can't honestly blame anyone for my own problem with feeling ugly, it really all comes from me, and even more maddening, (probably more to people around me like my family and friends,) all the "but you look fine!" speeches in the world don't make a dent.

But it's not just me, though, it's practically everyone I know at different stages of life. My friends and cousins and I go through this all the time. "How can you say such things about yourself? You're beautiful!" "No, I"m not, but you are, so what's your problem?" "I am not! Look at all this fat! If I looked like you I would have nothing to worry about!" And none of us feels any better about ourselves after that whole non-conversation.

I think that we live in a world of body dysmorphic disorder. But it's very hard to convince oneself that one's hangup is caused by a simple disorder when other people see it, too. Body dysmorphic disorder deals with imagined defects. But one wonders, how can they call those defects "imagined" when other people have pointed them out? It would be very easy to say, "Oh, I just have BDD, I should forget about it," but for that one factor. Sort of like seeing a penguin sitting on top of your television set, you telling yourself, "that penguin isn't really there; if I ignore it it will go away," meanwhile other people in the room are going, "hey, guys! Look at that penguin!" Kinda ruins it for you, you know? ;)

(The ever helpful [read: irony] DSM book [perhaps my least favorite book in the world, ever,] says of body dismorphic disorder: "Although we still do not have a single clear cause for body dysmorphic disorder, authorities believe that biological, psychological and perhaps even social or cultural factors contribute to its origins." Gosh! Ya think? Because I was thinking that aliens were planting chips in people's brains to make them feel certain things. Wow, you really do learn something new everyday.)

What in the world is the point of all of this? I dunno! I really did go looking for pages that spoke out against the way we cut ourselves up and re-make ourselves, and I could nardly find any. Nothing, though, has ever said it better than that one episode of The Twilight Zone, Number 12 Looks Just Like You. I should go watch that one again.

(no subject)

Sometimes, like most people, I suppose, I get totally down on how I look and I can fall into the whole self hate thing. Once in a while I say to myself, "hey, fatass, go look for diets and excerize on the internet, find something that will get the job done fast." With some combination of keywords including "weight loss" "fat" and some other things, this page came up.

So you know, I'm not one of these Sark-quoting, guru-following new-agers, and often a page done in this color of purple sets off my alarm bells: "Hippie nonsense! New-age spiritual wannabes! I'll bet there's a drum circle involved!" But instead, it did have a really interesting point of view:

Patriarchal culture, I learned, subjects woman's belly to both overt and covert violence. The modern methods of disempowerment include sexual assault, unnecessary hysterectomies and Caesarean sections, restrictions on women's authority in pregnancy and childbirth, and reproductive technology that depreciates women's wombs. They include belly-belittling diet schemes, Barbie dolls, pinch-an-inch apparel with built-in corsetry, and instant-slimming undergarments. (snip)

Patriarchal culture, by definition, literally hates women's guts. For thousands of years Western culture has made war on women's bellies; such brutality has made the belly an uncomfortable place in which to be. I understood why so many women, myself included, have suffered through compulsive dieting, compulsive eating, anorexia, and bulimia, enacting the ambivalence we feel about our bellies. In a culture which subordinates women and shames women's bellies, those of us who have internalized the culture's animosity can all too easily make the belly the focus of our self-contempt.

Isn't that totally interesting? I've never looked at it that way before.

Inspired, I wondered if I could find a website that had similar views on the standards to which we hold our faces, you know, big eyes, chibi noses, high cheekbones, huge lips and all of that. It would be nice to see web pages that encouraged acceptance instead of rejection. To that end, I went out looking for sites on an anti cosmetic surgery.

Note the first page that comes up if you google these terms. It's maddening that not only the first site on the list, but most of the subsequent ones, are on "anti aging and cosmetic surgery." Pro cosmetic surgery! Even if you google the exact phrase "anti cosmetic surgery", most of the pages that come up are still PRO cosmetic surgery, with the mention of "anti cosmetic surgery" being more along the lines of, "I'm not against cosmetic surgery! Trust me, I'm not!"

This just makes me so sad. When I was a kid, and all through my teenage years (and a bit into college,) I would try to find ways to purposely break my nose so that I would have no choice but to look different. Sometimes the thought is still there, very, very quiet in the back of my mind: "If I had a totally minor car accident... If I took a fall and didn't get otherwise hurt..." What makes me the maddest is that I can't honestly blame anyone for my own problem with feeling ugly, it really all comes from me, and even more maddening, (probably more to people around me like my family and friends,) all the "but you look fine!" speeches in the world don't make a dent.

But it's not just me, though, it's practically everyone I know at different stages of life. My friends and cousins and I go through this all the time. "How can you say such things about yourself? You're beautiful!" "No, I"m not, but you are, so what's your problem?" "I am not! Look at all this fat! If I looked like you I would have nothing to worry about!" And none of us feels any better about ourselves after that whole non-conversation.

I think that we live in a world of body dysmorphic disorder. But it's very hard to convince oneself that one's hangup is caused by a simple disorder when other people see it, too. Body dysmorphic disorder deals with imagined defects. But one wonders, how can they call those defects "imagined" when other people have pointed them out? It would be very easy to say, "Oh, I just have BDD, I should forget about it," but for that one factor. Sort of like seeing a penguin sitting on top of your television set, you telling yourself, "that penguin isn't really there; if I ignore it it will go away," meanwhile other people in the room are going, "hey, guys! Look at that penguin!" Kinda ruins it for you, you know? ;)

(The ever helpful [read: irony] DSM book [perhaps my least favorite book in the world, ever,] says of body dismorphic disorder: "Although we still do not have a single clear cause for body dysmorphic disorder, authorities believe that biological, psychological and perhaps even social or cultural factors contribute to its origins." Gosh! Ya think? Because I was thinking that aliens were planting chips in people's brains to make them feel certain things. Wow, you really do learn something new everyday.)

What in the world is the point of all of this? I dunno! I really did go looking for pages that spoke out against the way we cut ourselves up and re-make ourselves, and I could nardly find any. Nothing, though, has ever said it better than that one episode of The Twilight Zone, Number 12 Looks Just Like You. I should go watch that one again.