BlitzBlog

About 2 years ago, after we had to put our old dog, Gogi to sleep, I was sure my family would insist on replacing him pretty soon. (See Izzy Blogs)  We’d already done a “pre-emptive replacement” the previous spring when we acquired Izzy, our standard poodle. I say “pre-emptive,” as we’d all expected Gogi to die within weeks of us bringing the puppy Izzy into our home. But instead, having the new pup around re-energized Gogi, and for a while he overcame whatever pain his arthritis was causing him, and allowed him another year or so to experience his Dog Joy.

So it’s been about a year and a half of owning only one dog, and generally, my lovely wife Kate’s mindset was that Izzy, The Best Dog Who Ever Lived, was all the dog we needed.

But somewhere along the line, she changed her mind.

Using clever psychology and mental trickery, she steered ever more conversations around the dinner table to how Zac, our 16 year old son, really needed a dog of his own. Now let me say that Zac is in all likelihood leaving the house to go to college in a year and a half. He is also the least “animal-friendly” person in our family. (Granted we are an extremely animal friendly family, having at one time or another, owned cats, dogs, fish, cockatiels, turtles, iguanas, ducks, chickens and goats, so the term “least animal friendly” is a relative one).

“So Zac, what kind of dog, if you could have any kind, would you like?” Kate would not-so-transparently query. Zac was non-specific at first, usually mentioning he’d like a small dog. “How small?” we’d ask in reply, “Like Gogi-small? Or smaller?”  Gogi, a Puli, was about 28 pounds- roughly Cocker Spaniel-sized.

“No small, like really small.” Zac replied. “Like a Chihuahua, or a Yorkie.” We’d continue the conversation, always coming back to musing on fun-fantastic mutt-mixes and names like Chi-weiner or Weiner-Danes. We’d muse on why it’s a Cock-a-Poo, but a Golden-Doodle? Why not a GoldenPoo? (Okay maybe that’s obvious, since it sounds more like a fetish act than a dog). Or fun names like a Bulldog-Shihtzu mix called the Bullshihtz.

But it’d always come back to Zac wanting a tiny dog. And this would drive Kate down to her Secret Lair where she’d spend hours perusing the internet, downloading thousands of pix of itty bitty dogs for adoption or sale. If your internet connection has seemed slow over the past few weeks, now you know why.

At some point, this obsession became reality, when she started showing the rest of us pictures of actual dogs that we should look at to consider bringing into our home. It was then when I raised the question of the wisdom of combining some tiny ankle-biter with the 70-pound drool machine that takes up most of my side of my marital bed every night. While I could spend hours regaling one with tales of Izzy’s fabulosity, he does have…um…issues.

So to see how Izzy would deal with a new puppy, we took him along on a visit to The Dog Lady’s house to see some of the prospective adoptees. Two BichaPoos (Bichon Frisé-Poodle mix) and a Cockapoo.

And he was freaked.

He wanted nothing to do with these three little rolling balls of fur, tumbling excitedly betwixt his lanky legs. He looked like the elephant jumping on the chair to stay away from the mice.  We figured that an excitable puppy bouncing off the walls was going to be a difficult adjustment for Izzy. So we thought we’d look for something calmer- perhaps an older pup maybe a year or two old.  We drove off dejectedly, knowing that the search might take awhile.

Three days exactly.

The Dog Lady at whose home we had gone to see the three pups called to beg us to take one of the BichaPoos. That our house was perfect for this dog, and we should reconsider. We spoke to our vet and some of our animal-people friends about Izzy’s anxieties, and we were told that perhaps Izzy’s problem was that he’d just gone on an hour car ride to a place where he was on unfamiliar turf that smelled of hundred of other dogs. Perhaps he’s be more receptive if he was introduced to a new pup on his own turf. We grasped onto this ray of hope and told Dog Lady we’d come down  on Friday with Zac and Sarah (sans Izzy) to have another look.

In short, Zac loved the BichaPoos and we chose the seemingly calmer of the two. Since we had plans that wouldn’t allow us to take the pup right then, and there was paperwork to be filled out by Dog Lady, we arranged to come back tomorrow to pick up the new puppy.

We spent the hour ride home mulling names. We finally decided on Gizmo, for no reason more than it just seemed to fit (and he reminded me of the movie Gremlins), and it’d probably be shortened in everyday use to just ‘Mo. Which would leave us with dogs named Izzy and Mo.

Kate and I picked up Gizmo the next day and came home to introduce him to Izzy. We let Gizmo out of the car and ran him around the yard a bit. Then we let Izzy out and held our breath.

It took about 30 seconds before the two dogs were running and romping around the yard at breakneck pace, playing happily despite their 65lb weight difference. Another crisis averted.

6-days later, everyone in the house is adjusting to life with Gizmo. He’s both mellow and willful, but about as cute as the law allows. Gizmo has spent every evening bonding with Zac and sleeping in Zac’s room. He’s just playful enough for Izzy and the rest of us, and passes much of the rest of the time sleeping and sniffing about his new home. And so far, with very few “accidents.” I’d guess he’ll be totally house trained in a few weeks.  It helps to have a big brother to show him the ropes.

As for your internet connection, you should see an improvement in speed by now. Sorry for the inconvenience.

We flipped channels all night, CNN, MSNBC, ABC, Fox, CBS, NBC. My 16-year old son sat with the laptop, IM-ing and texting his friends, arguing politics. My 13-year old daughter watched also until Ohio was declared for Obama, and once I told her that pretty much sealed it, she went up to bed. My wife was feeling confident and had preceded her.

At some point, MSNBC’s Keith Olberman summed it up best, once it was apparent that Obama was going to win, that this was one of those “Man-on-the-moon” nights, where people will remember where they were when the USA elected its first African American President. A few minutes before 11pm, we were tuned in to ABC, and we watched Charlie Gibson virtually count down to the closing of the West Coast polls, take a beat, and then say that “ABC News predicts that Barack Obama will be elected the 44th President of the United States.” I was surprised at the swiftness of the announcement, coming a few seconds after 11pm, but I didn’t doubt its truthfulness for a heartbeat.

For the next hour, we watched as pundit after pundit, both Black and White, spoke of the greater symbolism of this momentous day. Of what it means to America, and just as importantly, what it says to the rest of the world. We were shown people dancing in the streets in Kenya and other places around the globe.  It was if the world’s trust in us had finally been restored. That Americans aren’t just a bunch of middle-class idiot cowboys who want to be led by a rich idiot cowboy. That we could now rebuild our leadership position in the world, not because of our economic and military might, but because of our moral high ground. Because of what we stand for.

Obama “got it” last night. He knew the eyes of the World were upon him. He knew this was that “Man on The Moon” moment that people will talk about for generations. He was eloquent and low-key. He was inspiring and awe-struck. He was, and is, the embodiment of America (except a lot smarter). Multi-racial, up-from-the-bootstraps, self-made, hard-working, family-valued, patriotic.
He said all the right things, and what we will find in the next few months and years is that the divisiveness that began with ‘94’s Newt Gingrich Republican Revolution is coming to an end. Obama will not abide a Pelosi-led legislature that is mean-spirited and punitive to the opposition party. This will be a git-’er-done time for the government, the likes of which we haven’t seen since statesmen like Ronald Reagan and Tip O’Neill worked together. And at the end of his term(s), I hope- so deeply hope- that we can re-establish the USA as a true leader of the free world, and not just the military/police of it.

And yes, while we all know how well-spoken and eloquent Barack Obama is, when they showed Jesse Jackson standing there in tears, I did sort of miss his brand of preaching eloquence. But when Obama began that great Yes We Can riff, it went just far enough to be preacher-inspiring, but not so “Black” as to scare those who are still on the fence about this historic figure.

So now what? I don’t know who Obama will choose for his cabinet, but I am sure it’ll reach across party lines. Maybe a Dick Luger or Colin Powell for Defense. Maybe John Corzine for Treasury. Or Warren Bufftet. Maybe Al Gore for Energy or Interior. Or even T. Boone Pickens. How about Hillary Clinton for Secretary of State?

As for the White House, what a great example for all the broken homes of African Americans to live up to. A traditional nuclear family, extended to 3 generations, complete with new puppy, as a living example of what we all strive for, regardless of skin color. Not a sham marriage with a philandering husband and power-mad wife. Not a spoiled rich-kid with drunken daughters and a Xanax’ed out zombie wife. No, this time it’ll be a pair of self-made, brilliant people, who with the help of their families and friends, are raising two sweet kids while holding down two demanding jobs.

Sounds familiar.

The funny fantasies I had while watching the tube on election night were:

1. John McCain gives his concession speech, turns to Sarah Palin, slaps her smack on the ass, grabs her hair, and plants a long smooch on her hockey mom mouth.

2. During Obama’s speech, as they pan the crowd, and show Jesse Jackson standing there, tears streaming down his cheeks, one of those MTV thought bubbles pops up saying “It shoulda been me!”

3. When Obama first walked out to make his victory speech, he came out in the full FUBU. Fitty hat sideways, oversize throwback jersey, giant Diesel jeans and unlaced yellow work boots. “Chicago wassssaaaaaapp!? Homeboyz in Da White Hooooooooouse!” Would scare the crap out the country. Then peel it off like a costume to reveal the suit and tie. “Just kidding.”

Well, it’s about 10:30EST on Election Night, and it looks like Obama’s heading for victory.

But this post isn’t abut Obama. It’s about Election Day.

I know it’s US Law that Election Day is the first Tuesday in November. I believe this is wrong. First of all, why do we either need to take time off from work, or have to get up early or rush home after work to vote? This is crazy.

I have a better idea. Election Day in July. Tax day in July, too.

Income taxes are due on July 2. Election Day, is now a national holiday, is July 3. And we celebrate on July 4th.

Just think how different our representation would be if we elected our leaders on the day after we pay our taxes. Just think how we’d celebrate our freedom to choose our leaders on a great summer 2-day vacation.

Just a thought.

Oh, and as for President Obama, HALLELLEUJAH!