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Category Archives: Bodine

Wordless Wednesday: Bodine breaks his fast

Bodine, the benevolent ruler over the realm of Black Sword, breaks his fast with his minions.

We’ve discovered over these past few weeks with our new feline family member, that the term confident cat is synonymous with one obnoxious son-of-a-queen.   He fears neither man nor dog.  Yep, pretty much what we were looking for in a cat, I think.

Not purely altruistic

Now don’t go off and get the wrong impression of me when I tell you this story. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m all stuck up or anything as I talk about an article from the New York Times. While, yes, I do have the New York Times drop an email update to me on a daily schedule, I really only scan the headlines. Put the Sunday issue of the Dayton Daily News and the New York Times side by side and watch me grab for the Dayton paper. Because DDN’s Sunday issue has the comic pages in color.

So I admit it’s not often that I actually open an article from the NYT email to absorb a story. I discovered that not only do the Times writers tend to use obscure words outside of the common tongue, they use several multi-syllable of the things in a row.

But here’s an exception.

Is Pure Altruism Possible? says the headline. Blog readers who have stuck with me over these past couple of years may recall my ramblings about teaching catechism to seventh graders (Rambam’s Ladder explains in further detail of these years of penance for me).  I have a foundational belief that I valiantly attempted to fit into the heads of these young people. Regardless of circumstance, each and every one of us has experienced blessings in our lives. And each and every one of us has a resource available to make a difference to someone else. This process of “giving back”, my young friends, is the very least we should be doing within our lives
 

Tell ya what, chick-a-roni, says Bodine.   
If you fill my food bowl, I’ll write your cards.  
How’s that for altruism, feline-style?

So this altruism headline in the Times intrigued me. I got as far as the byline and saw that this opinion piece was written by Judith Lichtenberg, a professor of philosophy at Georgetown University. Well, that should have been my first warning to stop right there before my brain exploded. Who did I think I was anyway?  Reading a NYT article written by a philosophy professor? But I bravely trudged onward hoping for a nugget of information that I could actually hold in my humble gray matter.

But, oh!  I got it!  Well, most of it.  Ok, ok, some of it.  Anyway, it’s full of some really great profundity and I’m finding it tough to summarize it here. I welcome all you curious folk to read the article in full here:  Is Pure Altruism Possible?  Grab that latte first, though. You’ll likely be there for a few minutes. For the truly courageous, read on through the reader comments, where you will find even more deep thinking as provided as critique by Dr. Lichtenberg’s fellow philosophers. My poor quivering brain sprung a leak after the first couple of those and I found myself reaching for that glass of Pinot Grigio.

The thought of pure altruism remains interesting to me as a volunteer puppy raiser for Canine Companions for Independence. Sure, my very hope is that this incredible pup I’m raising will become an assistance dog for someone. Which in turn would provide a level of independence, companionship and a sense of security to someone else who is looking for such things.

Pure altruism however? Well, no.

Inga taming a polar bear at the
Cincinnati Museum of Natural History

Why not? Oh, as if, people. Because I got me a puppy in my house, that’s why. I get nearly a year and a half of  happiness as only a fuzzy canine can give. Puppy breath and Frito scented feet in a cotton ball body, followed by months of having a constant companion. And adventures! Have you ever taken your dog to a museum? To the movies?  Well, I have and I gotta say, it’s a blast. The dog is a social bridge as well.  I meet amazing people I never would have without this dog at my side.

And we work hard, too, with the socialization and training. Some different doggie rules than the pet dogs have. And at the end of our time together, this dog we love so much, this dog who is not our dog, leaves our home and is entered into the advanced training program at CCI.

Every puppy raiser has their own reason for doing this stuff, for going through the hard work, the happiness and then the resulting heartache. Hey, I’m no philosopher, but here’s my thinking. During the short time we have these fuzzies in our lives, we fill them with our love. It’s not a conscious choice to be sure, it just kinda happens along the way. Then, with a kiss and a long hug, we send them off to share that love. So when they are placed with someone in the next part of their journey, well, they carry that very love inside them to give forward.

And indeed they do, so I’m told. Person after person, story after story, I hear. Pure altruism? No. But I don’t doubt for a nano-second that what I’m doing with these dogs is totally where I’m supposed to be.

During the holiday season, I joined up in a card exchange with other CCI folk.  Puppy raisers, graduates and others involved with the CCI program. Rules were simple, really. Just make sure you send a photo of a dog or two with your card.

Oh, it was wonderful picking up the mail every day to see what dogs were gracing the photo cards that day. I couldn’t even wait to get the cards in the house before opening them. Dogs in Santa hats, dogs in snow, dogs at the beach, dogs smiling. Then one day, opening the day’s postal treasures, I find myself standing in the driveway with tears in my eyes.  It’s a beautiful Christmas card from a CCI graduate, a young lady I’ve never met. Along with a photo of her and her blue-caped CCI dog, she’s left a handwritten note inside the card for each of the volunteer puppy raisers on her mailing list:

Wishing you a wonderful holiday season. Thank you so much for all the time, energy, patience & socializing you invest, in order to give someone else more independence & a greater quality of life. Loving & caring for a puppy you know you will have to give back is such a selfless gift.

Thank you for everything you do.

Dogs and dog cards.  It’s a blessed life, it is.
Now if Micron could just plant his blessed behind into a decent Sit.

So in answer to your question, Dr. Lichtenberg, is pure altruism possible?  You know, of course it is.  But I can’t stake claim of it here.

Because someone gave back to me.  And I’m feeling especially blessed today.

The photo we used for the CCI card exchange.
“Santa? Stop him, Micron! 
He’s goin’ for the dog cookies!”

Yaxley, Micron and Jager share some
Christmas spirit.

Aw, is Christmas over already?

A benevolent ruler

One drizzly spring morning back in the day, I’m driving through our well-manicured middle class neighborhood.  Three Boy Scouts are smushed into the back seat of the Buick like Spam in a can. An appropriate analogy for this adolescent boy sensory experience – rich in both sight and smell. (Mrs. Sword, roll up the windows, please? We’re cold.)

Ah boys, just a  necessary inconvenience. You see, we need the front passenger seat for a higher purpose than ordinary comfort. (Cold? Don’t you guys tent camp in the winter or something? Cowboy up, gentlemen). I placate ’em by tossing a baggie of gummy worms into the back seat. The boys and I are on a mission this day. We’re hitting the houses in the ‘hood to retrieve bags of donated food for their Scouting for Food project.  The Scouts do the running from house to car, depositing the bags of non-perishables into the front seat.

Now this part of town is not all together familiar to me. So I’m enjoying the guilty pleasure of picking up on the local townie gossip from the boys. But when we pull up to a house on a corner lot, the boys don’t get out of the car. Wassup, fellas? I ask.  A glance over tells me the house is a otherwise rather benign ranch style thing, but with  landscaping designed like a fortress. Tall shrubbery protects the front of the house obscuring every window and door from our viewpoint on the curb. Everything except the security camera posted above where the front door likely is.

Some crazy lady lives there, they say. She’s totally whack. If we even go near her yard, she’ll come running out in her nightgown with a shotgun, says one. That’s nuthin’, another says, I heard one time a Cub Scout went there trying to sell popcorn and an armed security guard answered the door and started yelling at him.  As many an urban legend has a basis of truth, I take in the aggressive landscaping job and security camera.  Uh huh. So what, no vicious pack of snarling guard dogs or shark filled moats? I ask.

No, they tell me, but she has a hundred cats in there.

And there, my friends, we have the neighborhood’s Crazy Cat Lady. 

Now I’ve made the animal hoarding jokes in lightheartedness. With three dogs and a cat I’ve said we’re only four paws away from being hoarders ourselves.  And being passionate about adopting from rescue groups, I do have a cautionary fear of taking on too many pets, local ordinances be damned. 

And we have harmony in this furry household. Everyone is getting along just dandy and all. The cat (adopted as an adult from the local humane society) moved herself into the basement in the fall of 2008 when we brought home the first CCI puppy and refuses to come back up. Domino insists she is very comfy down there, thank you very much, and is fat and happy. Her vocation these days is to be my little tuxedo kitty muse posted on the corner of the scrapbook table.

Domino, scrapbook muse and cellar cat.

So the question of the past week that’s on everyone’s minds as they see me . . .what made you decide to get another cat? 

[sigh] Oh why, indeed?  I’ve tried to form an answer, but profundity escapes me. After all, everybody knows I’m a dog person. Cats are quite nice, but let’s face the truth of it, they’re not dogs. But you know, I just liked this feline fella from the first time I met him. Bodine was one of the office cats at work that are up for home adoption. I work from this office location a few times over a month and Bodine would be there each time at the door to greet me and Yaxley. 

An affectionate, purring kitty that “kneads bread” when you hold him. Sure, there’s lots of cats that have that delightful personality. But that’s not enough to risk upsetting the household dynamics, however. Bodine took things a step further by being a dog cat.

Bodine watching over his keep on a rainy morning
Let me ‘splain.  I’m a dog person, an appreciator of all things canine. Bodine is a dog cat.  A cat who likes dogs, an amazingly thing to witness.  With Yaxley in a down-stay, Bodine gives him the old head butt and then tosses his fuzzy self onto Yax’s front legs to expose his cat belly for inspection. I observe this exchange with a sense of awe. 

And it becomes clear.  I gotta get me this dog cat.
We apply, and are approved, to adopt this confident kitty. Bodine is a seven year old domestic shorthair, white with patches of tiger striping and a cheshire cat tail. A chronic, but minor, health condition that we’ll monitor with the vet. 

When one laptop isn’t warm enough, it only makes
sense to sprawl across two.  Might as well open up some
new browser windows with that hind leg as well.
While the dogs were excited about this new furry family member, their real joy came with the discovery of cat box treats. With Domino in the basement, they were denied the decadent pleasure of kitty roca. You know, cat brownies. Pecan logs. Litter Snickers. Recycled cat food.

Pet food companies go through a lot of trouble to make dog food palatable and tasty when they should be considering something as simple as cat turd flavoring. Sure,I’ve got a covered litter box, but apparently the hole is big enough for a labrador head to fit through comfortably. This hooded litter box is like a buffet bar to them. The sneeze guard is a nice touch, Food Lady, they say, it does help to keep the brownies fresh
 
Well, that’s just nasty, you say, but how’s the household harmony these days? Not too bad, I’m pleased to report. A little of the expected drama at first until the dogs received their obligatory kitty smackdown and learned their new place in the hierarchy. The cat is the benevolent ruler of this realm and all will bow down to him. Micron provides a full face lick in agreement, Yaxley is sniffing feline nether regions and Jager is head and shoulder deep into the hooded litter box.

Ah, we have peace in the animal kingdom.