Category: CREATURE FEATURES (Page 24 of 37)

Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My! (Plus dogs and cats)

Creature Features: Doggy Bag Duty #735

November 13, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I continue to be amazed by the volume of scatological output relative to our dog Tinker’s small size. I also know from comments that others aren’t quite as fascinated with this subject, so I’m giving you fair warning before you waste your time reading this post: POOP ALERT! I know there is no Guinness World Record Book listing on this subject, but it does report Blue Whale feces to be colossal in size. Dinosaurs apparently also made a big impact, judging from their fossilized leave-behinds also know as “coprolite.” The scientific term is derived from the Greek words kopros meaning “dung” and lithos meaning “stone,” although it’s hardly “lite.” If you’ll pardon the pun, they’re now ex-stinked. Tinker is very much alive, and is not known for massive movements but rather aggregate sum.

I proudly call our stoolish schnauzer “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” but the only means of comparison is really our other schnauzer Tally. We think that Tink is part-poodle and this may be the reason for her superior intelligence. I don’t even want to get into “poodle doodles,” and I’m not talking about breeding. Tally is half her older sister’s age, and both were adopted. They each weigh 25-26 pounds and are served the same amount of food every day, yet Tinker regularly has ten times the output. I know this because I’m responsible for their daily care that includes 6 or more outings a day. It’s rare if I don’t collect at least one full doggy bag every time I take her out. Pound-for-pound I’m willing to challenge any competitor.

Tinker does steal Tally’s food to the point where I have to stand over the bowls and referee once dinner is served. Tinker devours her dinner, while Tally seems to savor every glorious bite. As I’ve reported before, Tinker is not shy when it comes to pooping and favors no surface. Tally needs privacy and seeks a patch of ivy or tall grass to hide her spoils. I go through roll-after-roll of doggy bags on account of Tinker, but Tally thoughtfully never goes where others might walk. They are output opposites!

Today is the day I take them to Urban Fauna for playtime and grooming. This is a second Tuesday of the month ritual, but in this case it’s been five weeks. They need a bath badly to the point where my wife jokingly pleaded, “Please get the Stink off Tink!” Too many times a day, I get the stink out of her and collect it in a bag. This is the one day a month when it’s somebody else’s responsibility to clean-up after the two of them. I have a feeling they hold it in all day, because they are sure glad to get back to their favorite spots here in our neighborhood. I’m always the one left holding the bag!

Soon, we’ll be packing up the “Doggy Bags” to head to Bend, Oregon. It will involve a three-hour drive for the dogs, who love any “ride in the car.” I don’t think they have a sense of distance, but any opportunity to get out of the house seems exciting. Just the words, “ride in the car,” gets their tails wagging. It takes awhile for Tinker to settle into the ride, as many times her legs start to shake and she begins to pant in what we believe is panic. We were told at the time of her adoption, that she was abandoned early in her life and was eventually found in the woods caked in mud. She ate acorns to fill her stomach that supposedly kept her digestive system intact. At this time in her life, maybe Baby Ruth was a better description of her poop production than Tootsie Roll? (See Post #722). She also seems to associate being abandoned or dumped with being in the car, so a longer ride eases some of that anxiety. She often sits on my wife’s lap in the passenger seat but will eventually curl-up in peaceful sleep on her elevated bed in the back seat, until I hit a disturbing highway rumble strip. Tally will sit in anticipation of mom’s lap availability. Poop-related accidents in the car have been limited to Tinkerhea. (See Post #370). Bags are not helpful when this happens!

Retirement is not without Hassles: Queen #726

November 4, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

Last night my wife and I went to see Bohemian Rhapsody – the story of Queen. It was the same successful formula as A Star is Born, the rise of an unknown artist into stardom. It was a welcome departure from too much Queen Cersei Lannister of Game of Thrones, who I’ve grown to despise in the popular television series. “Movie Night” gets me out of the house and away from the television screen for a few hours. Once my morning run is done, I’m typically a slug the rest of each day.

For some odd reason, I mistakenly thought that the members of Queen had met at the Julliard School of Music where they studied the classical music influences in Bohemian Rhapsody. I’m not sure I could have been any further from the truth, or at least how Hollywood portrayed it. As a result, after watching a movie like this, I immediately jump on the internet for some “facts.”

I guess I really didn’t know anything about Freddie Mercury at all, other the fact that I loved his voice and that he tragically died of AIDS as a result of being sexually promiscuous. I never knew he was born Ferrokh Bulsara in Zanzibar (now Tanzania), practiced the Zoroastrian religion, had a younger sister Kashmira, moved to Middlesex in his mid-teens, and was married for six years to Mary Austin. The movie held true to these details, including how in April of 1970 he joined guitarist Brian May and drummer Roger Taylor in a band called Smile, after their lead vocalist suddenly quit. Soon after, he changed the name of the group to Queen and designed their logo to represent his flamboyant style, in conjunction with zodiac signs of all four members that also included bassist John Deacon.

Mercury wrote 10 of the group’s 17 greatest hits, but was not particularly successful doing two solo albums then returned to the band he considered family. His live performance at Live Aid was one of the greatest on record and was majestically captured in the film. In retrospect, I missed one of the humorous segments of the movie by not recognizing Mike Myers in his role as EMI record executive Ray Foster. He’s quoted as saying after listening to the six-minute long song, “mark these words…no one will listen to Queen.” He ironically implied, with a British accent, that youngsters would not be cruising along to their operatic-like music. Seventeen years later, the movie Wayne’s World featured Myers, Dana Carvery and friends riding around their hometown of Aurora, Illinois in an AMC Pacer singing along to a cranked-up version of Bohemian Rhapsody.” He was purposely cast in the perfect role as the cynic who refused to accept their creativity. Wayne’s World helped to put the song back at the top of the charts for the second time since it was originally released. Unfortunately, Freddie Mercury was no longer alive to enjoy its unprecedented reprisal.

My wife and I were still discussing the movie the next morning, so it must have been good. Sadly, it doesn’t deserve to be in the same paragraph as the next subject. I woke up to a pile of poop on the kitchen floor, maybe the result of the time change last night? After too many “Creature Feature” posts that appear as part of this blog about our aging schnauzer Tinker, “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” it was suggested by a friend that I have “poop on the brain.” I had promised to refrain from writing about it for awhile, until this morning’s “Poopsident.” It was later that my wife also found she had made a deposit on one of the painter’s tarps spread out on our living room floor. It’s hard for me to ignore the subject when I spend a good portion of every day walking them around the neighborhood armed with a bevy of doggy bags. After five or six trips outside every day picking up after her, maybe a better nickname is the “Queen of Poop?” “Crazy Little Thing Called Poop“

My friends are right – I do have poop on the brain:

Oops – Poopsident

As I walked in the kitchen,
And picked up the scent.
It wasn’t a good smell,
But rather a Poopsident.

Was it my fault?
For waiting too long?
She knows better,
Something went wrong.

With time change last night.
She was forced to wait.
I slept an extra hour,
And it was too late.

Does she need a diaper?
Or maybe a plug?
At least it was tile,
And not a Persian rug.

I took her outside,
And she had to go more.
Just how much poop?
Can a little pup store?

She overeats,
Then asks for treats.
After a snack,
The cycle repeats.

Next, magic happens,
That some may doubt.
Whatever goes in,
Even more comes out.

She’s a machine,
The “Queen of Poop.”
I need to get,
A larger scoop.

Incidents Happen,
I may be to blame?
On this occasion,
I could see her shame.

Her appetite’s grown,
As she’s gotten older.
Sometimes her output,
Is as big as a boulder.

Creature Features: Tootsie Roll #722

October 30, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

It’s “Trick or Treat” time, so all I can think about is candy. I’ve had my wife lock our stash in the trunk of her car, so I can’t devour them all in one sitting. It’s safe while she’s at work! One of my favorite movie scenes is in Caddyshack when the Baby Ruth accidentally gets flung in the Bushwood Country Club pool and floats away to Jaws-like music. As it drifts by a group of misbehaving kids they quickly scatter over the side in a panic while a little girl screams, “Doody, Daddy, Doddy!” Bill Murray is the groundskeeper, Carl Spackler, who’s given the job of retrieving the mistaken poop, but recognizes it as a candy bar and takes a bite to the shock of onlookers. It could just as well have been a Tootsie Roll, that is also often mistaken for “Doody.” To further capitalize on mistaken identity, they manufacture an inflatable pool float shaped like a giant Tootsie Roll. Unfortunately, if it were designed as unwrapped, they couldn’t show off their logo. We have a supply of full-size Tootie Roll’s and Baby Ruth’s in our candy bowl to give to costumed visitors.

Today, Doody Daddy is the name of a waste management firm in Cove, Florida. You can also buy an inflatable giant poop emoji to float your troubles away on. Or, if you want a toy for your kid there’s Princess Poop, Flush Force, Poopeez, Sticky The Poo, Toilet Trouble, Don’t Step In It, POOP: The Game, Poopyhead, and Doddy Head. It’s all part of the Poop Craze, that maybe started with the Poop humor in flicks like Caddyshack, Dumb & Dumber, Scary Movie 4, Van Wilder, Date Movie, Harold & Kumar go to White Castle, Not Another Teen Movie, American Pie, Friday, and White Chicks?

I happen to own the “Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” a dog that’s full of it. I don’t always find her habits as humorous, but it’s created a popular topic for my blog. Tinker is over 100-years old and showing signs of senility. For example, she no longer does an endless back-and-forth dance searching for the perfect spot. In fact, she’s developed a recent habit of pooping on the sidewalk. I’ll be walking along with younger Tally pulling me forward with eager enthusiasm, while Tinker gimps along slowly behind. The retractable leashes are often stretched to their fullest in both directions. If I’m not careful, Tinker will stop to itch her butt on the rough concrete surface, and suddenly she’s being dragged along. She could also stop at any moment to empty her bowels, as I watch Tootsie Roll-like logs rolling down the steep neighborhood hill behind us. I’ll have to chase them down with my doggy bag, before they tumble into street traffic or into a storm drain. Sometimes sadly, what comes out is Tinkerreah (the runs), that never rolls. (See Post #370)

Tinker’s appetite has remained strong, unlike her legs and eyesight. She continues to take Prednisone to control her itching and arthritis. The steroids have turned her into even more of a mooch, as she relentlessly follows me anytime I head in the direction of our refrigerator, hoping for a nugget. She’ll eat anything, but chocolate is poisonous to dogs, so Halloween is not her favorite holiday. We used to dress her up in a Bumble Bee outfit to greet our Trick-or-Treaters, but it never got her a bag of candy. We’re generous with most everything else we eat, but chocolate, eggs, and many wheat products are strictly forbidden. We sneak a bite or two of egg to Tally every morning when Tinker isn’t looking. To be honest, I don’t think we fool her, so she tries to retaliate by stealing Tally’s dinner. The “bottom” line, is that Tinker enjoys excessive amounts of input, and expels equal amounts of output. She’s all about “treat,” and too smart to be “tricked.” In most cases, she’s a dog that gets what she wants! This is why I fondly refer to her as the “Poopingest Pup on the Planet!”

Diary of an Adoptee: Family Ties #721

October 29, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I got a supportive note from a Banister cousin today who follows this blog. Her sentiment was expressed in these words: “sure sounds like you are figuring out who you are…you come from a big family.” The e-mail came at a time when I when still assessing the impact of yesterday’s discovery. She understands the frustration I feel as a result of the denial of acceptance by my birth mother. A few months ago, I thought that this was the end of ever determining who the father was? However, recent DNA findings have perhaps provided the answers without her cooperation.

It’s mind-boggling when I think of all the circumstances that have led to this discovery over the last 30 years:

The name Edna Faye Banister and an address was discretely passed along to me from of a friend who had illegal access to sealed Indiana adoption records.
The realization that the address provided was the adoption home where I spent the first few months of my life. Coincidentally, it was directly across the street from my Indianapolis office, where I had a daily view of the parking lot where it once sat. Like a homing pigeon, I had traveled from job-to-job over hundreds of miles to ultimately return to the neighborhood.
A visit to a nearby hospital to request a copy of my birth certificate.
The 23andMe DNA test that my boss suggested that I take.
A note from a DNA match and his efforts to secure copies of my bio mom’s birth certificate and a 1940 census report. This enabled me to find her whereabouts and compare the ages of her seven siblings to generic information provided by the adoption agency. The actual records were until recently sealed by law.
Certified letters to the birth mother’s address and to her son with no response.
Feedback from other Banister family members that indicated denial on her part.
The decision to take a second DNA test through Ancestry.com.
A record of Ancestry “DNA Relative” matches to a mother and son who topped the list, followed by notes and phone calls.
The decision of this woman to coincidentally take a DNA test for some still unexplained reason. Destiny?
A conversation with this woman and discussion of her father’s military records that led to suspicion of his involvement with Edna Faye Banister, and the realization that they were distant cousins. Plus, photos that showed a strong resemblance.
A recent change in Ancestry DNA comparison utilizing centimorgan (cMs) measurement. (See Post #719)
A comparison chart that shows our shared DNA to be high enough for a half-sibling connection.
The discovery of four other sisters and the decision to get together for a meeting (coming soon).

It’s starting to sink-in that I have seven living half-siblings and three half-brothers that are deceased. My birth mother’s son is named Jerry Lee, the same name his mother gave me at birth. Her daughter is named Janet, the same as one of my half-sisters. I speculate that two distant cousins had an affair, and then each married another, bringing a total of 11 children into the world. I was the only one that was put-up for adoption, but I guess now we could be considered a “BIG family,” although I’ve never met any of them. Her second Jerry Lee hasn’t accepted that a first Jerry Lee (me) exists. He’s lost all his brothers tragically but me, but does not believe that I am related. His half-sister Janet is also not aware of Janet 2, but I can imagine the introduction I might make. Like the three brothers named Darryl comedy routine from the early 80’s TV Bob Newhart Show, “Half-sister Janet meet my other half-sister Janet.” I have yet to make an effort to contact her.

I keep hoping that Edna Faye will confess to the “indiscretion” that gave me life. I certainly don’t see it that way! I’m nothing but grateful, and would like an opportunity to show her “the good” that she delivered. I know it’s a part of her life that she’d like to forget, including the humiliation of having to leave high school and home to give birth to me. Maybe she was in love with my father, but he left for the Marines and marriage to another? Maybe it was an accident, and she was embarrassed to be seduced by a cousin? My birth father’s high school photo listed him to be a “Heart-breaker,” so perhaps I am nothing but a reminder of unrequited love? It’s been 67-years and she’s now 85, so it’s possible that she will soon take this secret to the grave. At least, DNA has pointed to possibilities that she is reluctant to admit, even after all these years.

As my Ancestry cousin has graciously responded, I do have a big family, when at one time I thought I was an only child, except for my sister. This indicates how selfish and spoiled I was growing up. I can’t imagine sharing with 11 siblings. Adoption made me special, and I was fortunate to have grown up in a loving, giving environment. I got everything I could possibly want, but after all these years apparently I want more. I want to know the circumstances of my birth and any physical characteristics that I share with others. I know longer have the parents who raised me, so I’ve searched for other family connections. DNA has gotten me close, and the next few months will determine my destiny that has evolved from inquiries over the last 30 years, and family ties that I was never aware existed.

Retirement Is Not Without Hassles: The Moon #711

October 21, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

This Post #711 on the 7th day of the week reminds me that Seven and Eleven are deemed to be lucky numbers, with 7 known round the world to bring the most good fortune. Eleven was certainly lucky for enabling Neil Armstrong’s famous walk on the moon, after watching the movie First Man last night. Apollo 11 safely rocketed the Mission Commander, along with Buzz Aldrin, and Mike Collins into history. The movie features a rare moment when the three astronauts are each totally alone in space, with Collins in Columbia, the command module, Aldrin in the lunar module Eagle, and Armstrong on the surface. All three returned to Earth as conquering heroes. In sharp contrast, Apollo 13, bearing the unluckiest number in the world, resulted in tragedy, even though it was the 7th manned mission in the Apollo space program. Perhaps they should have skipped #13 like the buttons in many elevators? The successful moon landing of Apollo 12 seems to have gotten lost in the shuffle, as Pete Conrad and Alan Bean became the third and fourth U.S. men to set foot on the moon’s surface. A total a twenty-four men, including 12 Soviets, have walked on the moon, but only the name Neil Armstrong stands out. The last two from the U.S. were Gene Cernan and Harrison Schmitt of Apollo 17 in 1972. As far as the future is concerned, China is now the third country to do a soft-landing on the moon with expectations of putting a crew there by 2036.

From a personal standpoint, it’s rewarding for a Hoosier like myself to note that both the first and last man to walk on the moon were Purdue University alumni. Purdue had a BIG football victory yesterday over #2 Ohio State that made me envious, as my Alma Mater Indiana once again fell short against Penn State. The unexpected upset by the “University of the Astronauts” over the perennially powerful Buckeyes was indeed out of this world! Indiana and Purdue will play Thanksgiving weekend for the Old Oaken Bucket and a potential bowl bid. With Purdue’s recent momentum, it will be a long afternoon for the Cream & Crimson faithful. Just for the record, Ohio State has won 20 straight against the Hoosiers and that steak has been anything but luck. It will be at least until the “Moon is in the Seventh House” and our country puts another man on the moon before Indiana wins another football game against The Ohio University.

Eleven days from now college basketball season starts and the 11th month begins, so I consider that to be lucky. Someday, Indiana will hopefully capture their Seventh NCAA Championship Banner. Plus, I’m Seven years into my 60th year, a sure sign of another good year. 10 was always my favorite number, so it’s also fortunate to have several lucky numbers to choose from. If I decide to play the Mega Millions game this week, it will take six lucky numbers. Last week, the Mega-ball was 7. The stars and moon will need to be in alignment for someone to win. Who’s that Lucky?

Retirement is not without Hassles: Groundhog Day #706

October 17, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I checked back through my previous posts to see if I had written about Groundhog Day. After being home for three straight days, I had the feeling that this morning was simply a repeat of yesterday and the day before. I turned my watch alarm off, got out of bed, cleaned the litter box, put some running clothes on, did some exercises, took the dogs out, ran 3.1 miles, had a fried egg for breakfast, poured a Diet Coke, kissed my wife goodbye, retreated to my home office, took a shower, and dressed for the day in my traditional retirement uniform. It will probably be the same routine for the rest of the week, and maybe the next 36 weekdays before we travel again. So far, this hasn’t gotten boring, especially since my day-to-day working routine was very similar. The only real difference was putting on a suit & tie, as opposed to blue jeans and a Columbia shirt.

I’m surprised there were no past references to Groundhog Day in my blog. The 1993 movie, starring Bill Murray and Punxsutawney Phil, is one of my all-time favorites. Also, Groundhog Day is celebrated annually on February 2nd, followed by my Dad’s, then Mom’s birthday. I not sure how many Phil’s there have been since the tradition started in 1886, but I have only one mom & dad, unless you consider the fact that I’m adopted. My parents passed four years ago, but I still continue to honor their days and the groundhog’s. Also, after looking up the unique spelling of Punxsutawney, I’m more certain than ever that I’ve never written that name before. It’s actually a Pennsylvania borough whose name is derived from Native Unami meaning “town of the sandflies (or mosquitoes).” With all those pests around, it’s no wonder why Phil only makes limited appearances every year.

Honestly, I can’t say that every day past noon has been exactly the same. On Monday, I took out the garbage and drove Tally to the vet to have her eye checked. Yesterday, I watched the movie “Uncle Drew,” enjoyed two Playoff baseball games, and cooked dinner. So far, today I’ve watched “A Prayer Before Dawn,” got my hair cut, and went to Starbuck’s. I had a pumpkin spice craving, so I ordered a rare Latte Grande. For variety, I’m also thinking about having the limited-time-only pumpkin spice wings for our Friday “Leadership Meeting” at Buffalo Wild Wings. This would be a drastic variation from my traditional Groundhog Day-like schedule.

Some might call my retirement life boring, but I’m actually embracing this stint of doing nothing. After all those 8-to-5 office days, I feel like I deserve some time off. I’ve avoided anything that requires being anywhere at a specified time. This has included volunteer or part-time work that I may eventually consider as time goes on. Typically, we’re away from home one week or longer every month, an 80/20 ratio. This balance of home and away keeps the Groundhog in me from getting restless!

Retirement is not without Hassles: Cheeseburger #705

October 16, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

I’ve successfully completed another night of dinner preparation. It was a simple meal involving a bed of lettuce, sliced tomatoes, and a cheeseburger that was cooked on the grill. I still found it to be stressful, but at least it wasn’t another disaster. My wife’s only complaint was that her cheese-slice topping was not fully melted, but she resolved her concerns with a few minutes in the microwave. The pets were predictably happy with their portion. Learning to cook has given me some confidence. For example, last night, with my wife at a business meeting, I actually took the time to heat-up some frozen vegetable beef soup on the stove. There was a time not too long ago when I wouldn’t have gone to this trouble. In the not to distant past, microwaving was my only culinary skill.

One of my retirement pledges is to cook dinner one night a week. I’ve had some success and failure, but have found some “comfortable” recipes. Preparing a meal is still one of the most stressful days of my retirement week. My best include a brine pork chop as well as multiple crock-pot preparations. Tonight is “Date Night,” followed the next night with a Broadway Series presentation of On Your Feet. Even though we’re home, we manage to stay active every evening. We’ll probably return to our standby Outback on Friday night and see a movie on Saturday night, so we’re definitely back in our home-base routine.

My wife and I continue on the “white food” diet that has voluntarily eliminated bread from our diet. The Cheeseburger Salad that I prepared is probably not what Jimmy Buffett envisioned when he sang Cheeseburger in Paradise. I didn’t totally screw it up though! After all the margarita’s that the “Parrot Heads in Paradise” have consumed, I doubt that they would have noticed that the bun was missing. In addition, I reduced the cost-per-use of our grill and somehow undoubtedly improved my cooking skills. The good news is that I don’t have to cook again for another week!

A “Leadership Meeting” is scheduled for Friday, intentionally interrupting the daily drudge of staying at home. With our Napa wine country excursion last week, there wasn’t an opportunity to get together. It will give me an audience to discuss season 3 of The Deuce, and catch-up on local radio developments. We’re almost at 10,000 Buffalo Wild Wing points to cover our annual holiday party. Our one friend vacationing in Spain will not be able to attend, but the rest of us will be anxious to catch-up. It will be wings, rather than Cheeseburgers and Coors Light will replace the margaritas. Jimmy Buffett will not be there, but it will still be retirement paradise!

Retirement is not without Hassles: Vulnerability #702

October 16, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

As I reflect on the death of another famous contemporary, Paul Allen, it demonstrates that anyone, no matter how wealthy or healthy is vulnerable. (See Post #701). At the same time, every day I helplessly watch our aging dog Tinker have more and more difficulty getting up and down our stairs. Her eyesight is failing her and even her once iron stomach is now a concern. Only in the mirror can I see the changes in myself, but that biased reflection is filtered by my stubbornness to accept the inevitable. It’s solely by watching those around us where we get an honest gauge of the slow aging process. I can feel it in my bones, but can’t see it in my face.

Every day I go for a run, motivated solely by maintaining my daily streak. I can think of many reasons why I started it including weight control, personal challenge, and better health, but I don’t think about those things any more. I’m simply driven to run at least a mile every day for as long as I can. After nearly 10 years of doing this, I can’t even imagine not starting my day this way, but someday it will end. For now, aging has simply slowed me down, as related aches and pains seem magnified. My mile times are slower and it takes longer to complete any distance.

I never knew Microsoft’s Paul Allen, just as I don’t know 76-year old Sam Johnston of Naples, Florida. Sam and I share simply a last name and a common interest in running. Every once in a while I check the USRSA (United States Running Streak Association) website at www.runeveryday.com to do a comparative check. Sam’s streak extended for over 41 years (15,023 days) and he was #13 on the active list. I currently stand in the low 200’s, and I hate to think of moving up on that list at the expense of Sam Johnston. Here are his words about ending this remarkable streak:

“After running 1.26 miles, I stopped and walked for twenty painful minutes and decided that it would probably be my last official day of being a streak runner. It was over. I told my tolerant and loving wife that I was quitting, but I did plan to run the next morning just to make sure. On Saturday morning I went out and got a couple of minutes into my run and I decided quitting my streak was the right thing to do. And even though I could have run a mile, I didn’t. I finished 1-k and stopped. I then turned off my music and took a very slow, reflective, one hour walk before going home. Saturday was a long day filled with the benign torment from my decision. I went to bed at about 10:30 that night and oddly enough I woke up later and looked at the clock. It was 11:59. And just as I glance at it, the clock changed to 12:00. It was officially over.”

Regrettably, attrition is the only way to move up this run-streak list, as opposed to other ranking lists in life. I will probably never reach Sam Johnston’s mark. I would need to continue for another 31 years, and then celebrate my 100th birthday with a mile run. At some point, my knees may give out like his did, or worse yet, meet the same unfortunate fate as billionaire Paul Allen. In his case, others may have moved up on the list of the wealthiest, but my only accomplishment is living longer. On the other hand, Sam Johnston has not only run longer but also has the edge in age. Hopefully, he’ll prove that there is life after running. Congratulations on an amazing accomplishment, Sam. Maybe we’re related?

Creature Features: Hamkering #699

October 15, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

Tom Hanks had a “hankering” for distance running, when he portrayed Forrest Gump in the movies. If you’re not familiar with the word, I looked up the definition:.

A strong wish: Don’t you ever have a hankering for a different lifestyle?
Feelings of desire: Don’t you ever have a hankering for ham, like our dogs?

Thesaurus: synonyms and related words:

appetite, call, caprice, compulsion, covetous, craving, dream, drive, get itchy feet, hunger, impulse buy, impulse buying, inclination, longing, lust, vaulting, whim, wish, yearning, or yen.

Our pets have a similar desire when it comes to ham – I call it “hamkering.” Every night before bedtime we feed them pieces of Hillshire Farms Honey Baked Turkey Breast. The brand has varied through the years and has evolved from ham to turkey for health reasons. Our pets don’t know the difference and never complained when the change was discretely instituted. “Ham Time” was actually the suggestion of our veterinarian back in Indianapolis (Zionsville). He felt that the protein was a valuable supplement to our dog’s regular diet and our cats enjoyed the tasty benefits, as well. The excitement it generates each night is indescribable, but I would imagine it to be a heavenly experience. To me, H.A.M. is an appropriate abbreviation for Heavenly Angelic Moment I’ve used a poem to help define this experience:

Hamkering

Just before bedtime,
A very familiar scent.
The start of another,
Heavenly Angelic Moment.

The sky seems to open,
The angels start to sing.
And point to the heavens,
With the wave of a wing.

A symphony of musicians,
Accompany this sight.
Everything is bathed,
In breath-taking white.

A ray of golden sunshine,
Breaks through the clouds.
A feeling of ecstasy,
Comfortably Enshrouds.

They’ve waited all day,
For this moment to come.
The refrigerator opens,
Ham Time has begun.

Trumpets blare,
To the beat of the drums.
A tingling sensation,
Starts in their gums.

Tongue anticipation,
An adrenaline rush.
Tails perk-up,
Saliva starts to gush.

Lips are licked,
Eyes dilate.
The package unsealed,
They just can’t wait.

Trying to be gentle,
They grab for a bite.
Then they want more,
Restraining to fight.

Then it’s all over,
To bed they retreat.
With dreams of getting,
More of it to eat.

And when daylight comes,
The first thing to mind.
Even before they,
Scratch their behind.

They start to have,
A real Hamkering.
And they can’t wait,
For the angels to sing.

Creature Features: Tinker Strikes Again #693

October 8, 2018 / mikeljohnston1 / 0 Comments

The “Poopingest Pup on the Planet” has struck again. This time on the kitchen floor. At over 100 years old, she’s entitled to a few mistakes, even though she ruined a number of carpets in her younger years and those were not all accidental. Certainly Tinker, the stinker, knows better, and after yesterday’s ramblings about “Dog Thoughts” I have to wonder: What was she thinking? (See Post #690). So far, the more-lady-like Tally has fortunately not emulated her leadership efforts in this department. Sometimes when you’re dealing with a pet, there’s nothing I can do but chuckle, clean up the mess, and write a another poem:

(P)oops!

What’s that on the rug?
Is it what I think?
The air in the room,
Is starting to stink.

You try to convey,
That innocent look.
Suggesting the source,
I must have mistook.

Just how many others,
Who walk through our door?
Are likely to take,
A dump on the floor?

I know it was you,
The “Poopingest Pup.”
And who do you think,
Has to clean it up?

This is the reason why,
We take you outside.
When did this happen?
The evidence has dried.

If this was on purpose?
Your thinking absurd.
This was no gift,
You’ve left us a turd.

An accidental “oops.”
I guess it could be.
It’s less of a mess,
Without the extra “p.”

So hold it until,
You get to the brush.
But If you can’t wait,
Learn how to flush.