Losing a family member, even a dog, is difficult

I had intended to write another rant about the dishonesty of our nation's politicians this week, but things changed Monday night and I was compelled to change my topic. After all, we all know politicians on the national level - whether Republican or Democrat - are dishonest. Otherwise, the world would be a much different place.
Politicians talk about opposing deficits, but they create them. They say they are for lower taxes, yet they are the ones that create all taxes and have the power to lower them or do away with them all together. They say they are for term limits, but will not take action to create a law to prevent politcians from serving forever - except the president who may serve only two terms.
But, enough of that or I will go full-force into my rant.That's what I had intended to write and rant about this week, but no - like I said things changed Monday night.
Sometime after 7 p.m., my wife and kids burst into tears while I was preparing to write my column. It was a sad moment. "Mr. Happy" died - that's the nickname our friends gave our dog Cudreaux. He would have been 15 years old this Christmas. We found Cudreaux at the Phenix City dog pound. He was a tiny, fuzzy puppy with a friendly attitude. He changed over the years. He grew into a very large and unfriendly dog. I guess that is an unfair assessment of his transformation. He was only unfriendly to strangers or anyone that was not a member of our family and that includes the other animals we live among.
When Cudreaux was younger, we allowed him to roam free. That was a mistake. Cudreaux would roam over to our neighbors' homes and pilfer a shoe or two, but never a pair. Many was the time one of our neighbors would be looking around our yard in hopes of finding their missing shoes. They usually found them without damage. For some reason, Cudreaux just wanted to steal the shoes. He wouldn't chew them.As he grew older, he developed a nasty attitude about people he did not live with.
My friend Phil Eckert had a special dislike for Cudreaux and the feeling was mutual. Once Phil decided to sneak outside to smoke a cigerette in our driveway. Phil was not supposed to be smoking. He had promised his wife he would quit. I guess Cudreaux knew this and wanted to express his displeasure that Phil had broken his promise to his wife, Kim. Cudreaux ran up behind Phil in the dark and almost gave him a heart-attack with the noise he made. Phil thought Cudreaux was Cujo.
On another occassion, Cudreaux pinned Phil between his truck and our house when he arrived when no one was home. Fortunately, by this time, we had put Cudreaux on a running cord, giving him some freedom, but not complete freedom to roam as he had in the past. Phil escaped unscathed.
In the last few years, Cudreaux lived most of the time in our laundry room. We would just leave the back door open and allow him to come in and out as he pleased. He loved that room. He had his own fan to cool him off on hot days. When we shut the door to the room in the evening, he would bark to let us know he needed to go out. He shared the room with any animal that lived in our home. He loved company - company he knew. There was a cat named Jack that started staying around our house. Jack was not our cat. Jack was Cudreaux's cat. At night, Cudreaux would stand in the driveway and bark until Jack came inside with him.
If, by chance, Cudreaux escaped his running cord, he would venture into the other parts of the house to check on us. He liked to lay in the living room until he was taken back to his room and put back on his cord. Sometimes I sat in the floor with him and scratch his back. He liked being scratched most of the time. When he did not want to be scratched, he would growl and snap at you. He never bit anyone, but he made it plain that he was prepared to - even the people he liked. He had strange ways, but don't we all.
The best thing about Cudreaux was the fact he never was a slacker when it came to his job of protecting us. Day or night, no one came near our home without Cudreaux sounding the alarm. Strangers would ask if he would bite and we would assure them he would not as long as he could not get to them.
We have a friend who said he was going to pet Cudreaux some day. It never happened. Our friend coaxed Cudreaux with food to gain acceptance. It did not work. Cudreaux was thankful for the food, but our friend was not going to get the opportunity to pet him. He could just put the food down and back away slowly. Our friend vowed to pet Cudreaux even if he had to wait until he was dead. That didn't happen either. Our friend was out of town when Cudreaux died. We called to let him know Cudreaux was dead and our friend was saddened. He knew Cudreaux had won the battle of wills.
Now, we have no Cudreaux. We just have memories of a dog that was a big part of our lives for nearly 15 years. It is always tough when a family loses a loved one, even one with a bad attitude and lots of fur. I have heard all dogs go to heaven. I don't know if that is true or not, but, if Cudreaux is there, he will sound the alarm for St. Peter when someone reaches the Pearly Gates. My advice to those people entering the gates - don't try to pet him.

Politicians should learn to read bills first

Some people do not have their priorities in order. Consider the following argument about what is important and what is not:

Average Uninformed American: Hey, did you hear about Paula Abdul?

Me: No, and I do not want to talk about that. Let’s talk about what the morons in Washington, D.C. are doing to our future.

AUA: What about Paula’s future? Shouldn’t we be concerned about that?

Me: No, Paula can worry about Paula. We have to worry about what the politicians are doing to us. They are spending money by the billions. I saw on the television news that the politicians are spending about $11 million an hour right now and it is going to get worse. In fact, there are projects that the politicians will spend about $4 trillion on this year.

AUA: Yeah, but Paula is not getting anything. The folks at American Idol haven’t offered her a contract. Well, one report said they offered her a paltry $10 million a year to remain as a judge.

Me: That’s chump change when you consider what the politicians are spending.

AUA: You are right. They are offering Paula chump change. Heck, she is the star of the show. They gave that creepy Ryan Seacrest $15 million -- actually $45 million -- for a three-year deal. Simon Cowell, that rude British guy, is supposed to be getting $100 million a season. But, poor ole Paula is getting stiffed.

Me: She’s not getting stiffed. The American taxpayers are getting stiffed. Who do you think will pay back all this money the politicians are spending? It’s going to be us.

AUA: Well, how can Paula pay her share if she isn’t paid a living wage for her work? You think she can live off a teeny, tiny salary of $10 million? Come on, be realistic.

Me: Realistic? You think $10 million is a teeny, tiny salary? Most working Americans have to survive on much, much, much less. Most of America works for an hourly wage of less than $10 dollars per hour – many, much less. You want to worry about something, worry about how they will be able to pay back their share of what the politicians are spending.

AUA: Most people do not have the expenses that Paula has to deal with. Do you know how much it costs to have servants take care of her mansion?

Me: I would reckon it takes more than the average American makes in a year. Probably more than two average Americans make. Tell her to take care of the mansion herself.

AUA: What, you expect Paula to scrub floors and cut grass?

Me: Why not? Most people take care of their own homes – if they can still afford to own a home – by themselves. They scrub their own floors and cut their own grass. But forget about that and start thinking about what is really important.

AUA: Oh, you mean like whether Kate and Jon Gosselin will get back together?

Me: No, I mean like the health care for Americans bill that the United States Congress is considering. The bill has 1,018 pages. None of the politicians seem to take the time to read bills before voting on them. They just blindly believe what other politicians tell them about the bill and vote in favor of their passage. Have you seen what is on the sixteenth page of the bill? It calls for the end of private insurance coverage. The president said we could keep our current coverage. Well, we can keep it until we change jobs. Then we have to go on the politicians’ plan.

AUA: That cannot be true. No one in Washington, D.C. is going to do that to us – especially not the president. You must be reading it wrong.

Me: No, it says it right there on the sixteenth page of H.R. 3200; Sec. 102 (A) (1) (a), “Except as provided in this paragraph, the individual health insurance issuer offering such coverage does not enroll any individual in such coverage if the first effective date of coverage is on or after the first day” of the year the legislation becomes law.”

AUA: It’s a misprint.

Me: Nope, not according to the House Ways and Means Committee, it is right there in black and white. The committee says the bill states exactly what I pointed out to you.

AUA: Don’t worry about the wording. The politicians will straighten that out before they vote to approve the bill. All they want to do is take care of us.

Me: That’s the problem. Politicians rarely take care of us. They are too busy taking care of themselves. If they cared about us, they would learn to read bills before considering them for passage. All it took to catch this political lie was to read the first few pages of the bill. As an editorial in the Investor’s Business Daily pointed out on July 15, “It took just 16 pages of reading to find this naked attempt by the political powers to increase their reach. It’s scary to think how many more breaches of liberty we’ll come across in the final 1,002.” It scares me. It scares me a lot more than the possibility that Paula Abdul may not get $20 million to be on American Idol.

AAI: There you conservatives go again, spreading vicious rumors and innuendoes about our loving, caring, liberal leaders. And you are doing it now during Paula’s time of need. Next, you will be telling everyone that Walter Cronkite is dead.

Me: He is dead.

AAI: I told you. It’s just more conservative lies.

Lexi brought out my rule-breaking side

Any of you out there that know my family and me know we have a multitude of animals. We have three dogs (Chief, Cudreau and Copper), four gerbils (Mama, Baby Mama, Chester and Lester), a guinea pig (Cookie) and five cats (Jericho, Harrison, Pookie, Speckles and Screamer). Actually, there are six (Blackie) at times - eh, maybe nine (there are visitors from time to time that do not really belong to us, but then who really ever owns a cat?).

This past week, the number of animals in my home increased by one. My youngest daughter, Mara, agreed to doggie-sit for a friend while the friend and her family made a trip to Florida. That made our animal community number around 18- give or take a visitor. It, the dog my daughter agreed to sit, was a friendly, black cocker spaniel named “Lexi.”

When Lexi came to our home, my daughter informed us of a strict list of rules to be followed when dealing with the visiting animal. Lexi was to remain in her cage when not eating or exercising. Lexi had a strict diet to be followed. Lexi was to be treated as what she was - a dog.

Needless to say, I am not the best at following the rules when it comes to animals. I freely admit that during one particular holiday season several years ago in a place I will not I identify; I set several animals free from incarceration by local authorities. Some animals do not belong in cages. I blame my father for this trait or character flaw, if you prefer.

I know this has nothing to do with the story I am telling you at this time, but my father and I once gave a dog its freedom while visiting my grandmother in Needmore - a small community just outside Troy. Some uncaring owners had tied the animal to a rope inside of its enclosure. The dog was about to strangle itself when it climbed upon its doghouse and decided to jump off. My father untangled the rope several times during our visit to my grandmother’s home. My father later instructed me to release the poor animal from its rope and place it in the backseat of our car. We were halfway home before my mother realized what we had done. Byllie, that’s the name we gave her, lived a free life in our home for the next 15 years or so. 

My father was always doing things like that because of his love of animals - especially dogs. Once he came home with a mama dog and about 15 newborn pups. He got them at the dog pound. When he heard the dogcatcher intended to put the mama dog and pups to sleep, my father informed the dogcatcher he was not going to do that to “his” dogs. No, they were not really his dogs, but they became his dogs. At that time, we had about 21 or more dogs at our home in Asbury Park.

Now you can understand how I came about my feelings when it comes to animals - especially dogs. I think I have instilled the same feelings for animals in my daughters. 

Back to Lexi . . .

Well, you can see I was not about to follow the rules. Lexi ran freely in our home for a week. She jumped on furniture and wrestled with Copper and Chief. She did not wrestle with Cudreau. Cudreau is not the playful kind - just ask any of our friends. I think I may have “accidentally” dropped some table scraps, which Lexi consumed without permission. Nicky Mac and Madison, two children my daughters were babysitting during Lexi’s visit, were not as covert as I was when it came to feeding the visiting animal. The two of them openly defied the no-scrap-feeding rule. Nicky Mac and Madison fed Lexi cheese curls and chicken nuggets. Lexi even took a liking to my wife, Dolly, and she, my wife, does not like dogs - or so she says. Want to see if that is a lie? Try taking Copper or Chief away from her. Lexi quickly made her way into Dolly’s favor.

As for me, well, Lexi is a poor judge of character. She sat in my recliner with me. Once or twice when I took a nap, Lexi made the decision of her own free will to nap next to me. Lexi also slept with my daughters and even on the couch with Dolly, Chief and Copper. Lexi tried to make friends with our cats, but cats are not exactly friend-making animals.

They say confession is good for the soul, or at least that is what I’ve heard over the years. So, I freely confess to violating the rules when it came to the treatment of Lexi within my home. I hope Lexi gets to return for another visit. I promised her ice cream next time.