Cracks of dawn

It is well to be up before daybreak, for such habits contribute to health, wealth, and wisdom.   ~Aristotle

This morning I was awakened at five a.m.
By dogs, standing at the edge of my bed like zombies in the dark.
My cat lay silent, awake but perfectly still while they took turns chest-butting the mattress, their mild whimpering drowned out so purely by the sound of pouring rain. I kept my eyes closed and asked God  if he would make them lie down. He laughed along with the cat. 

Why I didn't buy that umbrella that was in my hands at the drug store two days earlier, is beyond me. Mine blew apart a month ago in a similar early morning excursion cum thunderstorm. It went skid-flying off down the street in some dark suburban blaze of Angry Birds on steroids. I was sorry to see it go too. That umbrella came to be mine the night I shot the Grand Opening Gala for the Schermerhorn Symphony Center back in September of 2006. It was a nice black version with their logo and a fake wooden handle, easily big enough to cover a woman and medium-sized dog. I should have known our relationship would end on a street in south Nashville. Enter the hooded raincoat. Boots.

Knowing that the odds of running into a lot of traffic or another dog walker at  that time of the morning in a downpour were pretty remote so I took both dogs. I figured since they woke me they deserved a real walk, no tiptoeing around in the front yard, if we're getting up in the dark to get soaked by rain, why not turn it into an event. Granted, it wasn't a run or even really a hike but it was pouring rain and I did mention that it was 5:00 right? Forty minutes and two plus miles later we were back home before daylight set in. I made coffee and tossed the wet towels down the basement steps. The zombies bounded around through the house, towel dried and naked, like little colts and the cat was not surprisingly, still in the bed.

For those of you without two big dogs in your fence-less house I might add, that at noon... we did it all over again. Rain shower included and yes, I am going to tell you a story about a treadmill the minute I find a video camera.   

Vehicular Dodgeball

I'm going to take some heat for this. I know it.

I made an observation recently that I decided to discuss here but before I started running my mouth about it I thought it might be wise to collect some evidence.

We live in a suburban neighborhood that was built in the fifties. Here in Tennessee, they've never really saw the need for sidewalks and our neighborhood is no exception. This puts Stella and I walking in the street. I noticed that as the cars are coming toward us, some of them slow down and move over a considerable distance and some of them don't. Some of them are speeding and some aren't, in fact some wave at us or nod or acknowledge that they've seen us. It may come as a surprise to some that those considerate, cautious, above average drivers - appeared to be of the male persuasion.

I know. It sounds crazy and I didn't want to believe it myself but yesterday morning during rush hour Stella and I carried a little note pad with us on our walk. To keep things simple (and lower our chances of being run over) we counted only ten men and ten women drivers, all of whom were obviously on their way to work. These results are preliminary, as being "on the way to work" is potentially a confounding variable and we here at Carny Dog like our data to be as pure as possible but here's what we found: All of the drivers we noted were inside the neighborhood; not on a main thoroughfare.

Eight out of ten men drivers slowed down and moved over.
Two out of ten women did.
All ten women were speeding.
One in ten men was speeding.
Six women were talking on their cell phones.
Zero men were.
Eight men made eye contact with us.
Zero women did.

Conclusion: Again, we can't draw any real conclusions but a couple of possibilities do come to mind:

1. Women are more likely to be late for work.
2. Men typically love dogs. And women*
3. Women think they're bulletproof - until something happens.
4. Men are naturally protective of themselves, women, animals and their cars.
5. Women are used to doing ten things at once.
6. Men pay attention to the road and are generally better drivers (eek!)
7. ?

What do you all think?

*It should be noted that I make no effort whatsoever to be cute at seven o'clock in the morning, I rarely wear shorts and am usually only whistled at by perverts and construction workers too far away to recognize that I could be their mother.

Meanwhile, there's some serious road blogging in our immediate future. If anyone out there has ideas about visiting our house while we're away, you should know that I've sublet it out to two bikers named Rebel and Loco. They've been instructed to shank first and ask questions later.

Ginger Snaps

This is Ginger on the left. Ginger is a lovely Boxer who lives down the block from us with her spirited and much younger boyfriend, Banjo. Like a lot of younger boyfriends, he keeps Ginger young and working hard to stay on her game. Very positive. Now if you happen to be a female dog and you come around batting your big old innocent puppy dog eyes at Banjo, it's a safe bet that sooner or later, Ginger is gonna' pop open a can of Whip Ass.

Enter Stella.

It was six-thirty Sunday morning and beneath the clear summer weather and the early birdsong, I knew better. Most everyone in the neighborhood was still asleep or tending to their hangovers. Stella and I took our time walking down to their house and she was really happy when we turned into the driveway instead of cruising on like we normally do. The lot of us had walked together a few times. I let the dogs out and fed them. Ginger was fine for a few minutes and then Banjo joyfully wedged himself between the two females. Everything after that went in deafening slow motion. Ginger launched herself like a rocket at Stella and Stella tried to run. There was tumbling and a lot of smack talk but very little mouth to body contact. Thank God. Banjo went along for the ride. The second I pulled Ginger off of Stella, it was over and the three of us sat there in the driveway, grass-stained and bleeding (very minor, Ginger scuffed her face on the concrete).

I imagined sleepy people in the houses all around us, getting up and plodding off to their respective bathrooms muttering curse words about a dog fight that might have been a dream.

Morning

For the last twenty one months, this is the first thing I see every morning.
Six - six-thirty.
I can pet her head and say "Go lie down Stel". And she does.
It's so sweet I usually go ahead and get up.

It's Take Your Dog to Work Day. If any of you had the chance to take your dog to work, we'd love a report.

Smooth ride

Apparently the girl can smell a fancy big rig from a mile away. I'm sure it doesn't hurt that said big rig is toting around a team of Clydesdales. Somehow we missed the Jack Daniels Invitational Bull Riding Competition this weekend. Too bad. I don't mean to berate Music City or anything but real cowboys in Nashville are pretty rare. We do have an abundance of hat racks though and some of them are pretty good singers but I digress. It bears mentioning that the guy who came in first place was riding a bull named: Booger Butt.. but you all probably knew that right?

Now that we're back to actually walking, the temperature has been a big factor in determining when we go. It's been topping out around ninety degrees here so I try to get us out of the house by seven a.m.
It seems cruel at first but once out the door, I somehow manage to enjoy it and unless I'm mistaken, Stella does too. A flock of Canadian Geese flew in above us this morning. I barely managed to snap a picture of them and suddenly they landed right in front of us. Stella (forgive me) lit up like a Ferris Wheel but thankfully kept her cool and didn't scare them off.
Speaking of Ferris Wheels, we're carnival bound a little later this week. Hopefully the weather will stay tolerable enough that she can get a little sawdust on her feet. We'll let you know how that goes. If I haven't said it lately, thanks for stopping by.

Check out this big rig before you go.

Barney & Stella

Stella got to have a little visit with Barney (pictured), Jesse and Maurice this morning. Maurice couldn't believe he was looking at the same puppy he met nine months ago. He spent most of the time, looking stunned. We stayed long enough for her to show off her stuff, then it was time to go. I forgot to mention in the last post that Stella (and Jesse) recently starred in a story on my other blog. [link] It's unreasonably long for a blog post and not exactly what I'd call light reading so to those of you who've already been there and read it - thank you.

Oh, I really should add one more thing. Some of you may have seen it in the Twitter feed but in case you didn't, a few days ago I opened my eyes like I do every morning at six o'clock and Stella walked up to the edge of the bed, like she always does. I stroked her head and we looked at each other, eye to eye. She then opened her mouth and out of it exploded a live cricket. It landed like a cannon ball in my arm pit. I nearly tore down a ceiling fan.

We still can't find the cat.