After reading The Story of Edgar Sawtelle years ago, I became fascinated by dog training. I studied up on it--all kinds of it--and watched videos online of various techniques. Especially fascinating to me was the method known as The Woodhouse Way, which has been the subject of some controversy. Anyway, as I studied, I eventually formed a method of my own that made sense to me. (Why, I have no idea.) I must be prescient, however, for dear Zydrunas, Jared and Sam's dog, is now a star pupil of The Nance Method and a Very Good Boy. He (and Jared and Sam) are well trained in The Basics, which makes Everyday Life so much easier for everyone. And yes, I do happen to have a picture of The GrandDog.
Remember my rant about dog beds? Not too terribly long after that, I went to my favourite local grocery store and closeout mecca and found dog beds stacked to the ceiling (almost), and they were of wonderful quality, comparable to the hundred-dollar ones. For less than fifteen dollars. Yes. That is correct. So. I immediately purchased two because previous to that, just days earlier, I received via text message the following picture:
Sigh. This was obviously before my training. This is after:
I had occasion to reread an earlier post of mine and was horrified to note a glaring subject-verb agreement error. How mortifying and how terribly common, too. Stuff like that makes me afraid that, little by little, all of my SmartyBrains are slowly leaking out of my head and trailing off into the ether like old radio waves. Pretty soon I'll be using random apostrophes, saying "have went," and spelling probably like this--prolly. Remember way, way back when I swore I'd never send text messages or use the word text as a verb? Sigh. Those were the days. Back then I had Real Standards. I'm so afraid of what I've become. This, below, used to be me!
Finally, I am sorry that I have been neglectful in my blog-reading as of late. Despite my best efforts, my life got quite busy there for a bit, and some odd things presented themselves and had to be sorted. I am
I'm looking forward to Poetry Month, but for those of you who are decidedly not, I promise to write other things as well.
(Isn't the comic at the top of the post so immediately identifiable as M. Crawford's from The New Yorker?)