Bush's achievements

Boris Johnson, the lavishly Tory Mayor of London ...

However well-intentioned it was, the catastrophic and unpopular intervention in Iraq has served in some parts of the world to discredit the very idea of western democracy.

The recent collapse of the banking system, and the humiliating resort to semi-socialist solutions, has done a great deal to discredit - in some people's eyes - the idea of free-market capitalism.

Democracy and capitalism are the two great pillars of the American idea.

To have rocked one of those pillars may be regarded as a misfortune.

To have damaged the reputation of both, at home and abroad, is a pretty stunning achievement for an American president.

Snared from Andrew Sullivan's post on the Atlantic Monthly website

Don't count your chickens...

Just remember, at this point in the 1980 election, Ronald Reagan was down by eight points in the polls. In the end, Jimmy Carter only carried six states including his own, and lost the popular vote by nearly 10 points.

Get out the vote!

Jackie the dog 1995 - 2008

The story of Jackie the dog starts back in 1982, when I had only been in Houston a few months. There was a dog wandering the neighborhood, a beautiful gold colored German Shepherd. We gave him a little nosh, and he started hanging around. My room mate, Brad, took to calling him "Pferd," German for "Horse," since he was pretty large. He always responded to that name, which seemed odd at the time.

We took him to the vet clinic in the neighborhood, and learned that he had belonged to someone that had moved away, and abandoned him. His name was "Fred," which explained his reaction to being called "Pferd."

Fred was an awesome, heroic, patient dog who lived until 1992. I had always thought it would be great to get a female silver point Shepherd and call her "Ethel," but holy smokes! Have you seen what the cost of a purebred dog is? Just before he passed, I was given the gift of another dog, a little black chow mix puppy that I named "Barney." Fred and Barney. Get it?

Barney lived up to his name, and was .. well, you can read in the archives about Barney.

Barney had been with me about three years when my friends Kurtis and David called one evening. They lived just up the street from me, and a friend of theirs had rescued a chow chow female that she couldn't keep. They thought about taking her in, but she didn't socialize with their female chow mix dog, and they thought of me.

I hopped into the car, drove the few blocks to their house and there, sitting off by herself, was a stunningly beautiful cinnamon pure bred chowchow. She was gorgeous.

She had been abandoned around the time she was fully grown, and had lived on the streets of Montrose for at least a year before this woman had caught her, taken her to the vet, had her fixed and "fixed," and groomed.

I've often questioned whether one can fall in love at first sight, and with people, I still wonder about that. I can tell you, though, that it is possible to fall in love at first sight, because it happened to me right there.

The woman who had rescued her called her "Annie" (little orphan annie) but I called her Jackie after Jacqueline Onassis. I figured she had had a rough life, but was regal, dignified and very, very beautiful, so naming her after the former First Lady was apropos.

Jackie came home to live with me right then. She and Barney got along just fine, although it was pretty clear that it was she who was in charge.

At first, she was so skittish about allowing someone to "control" her - she wouldn't let me put her leash on her. She so wanted to go outside with me and Barney, but she just couldn't bring herself that last few inches to let me clip the leash onto her collar. I thought making her stay behind while Barney and I went out on the leash would persuade her, but after several days, she would let me get just an eyelash from her collar and then she'd dart away.

My room mate, Billy (who's deserving of a chapter or two of his own) surprised me when I was out with Barney by coming around the other side of the block with Jackie on the leash. I asked him how the HECK he had gotten her to let him clip the leash on her, and he just looked at me like I was an alien. "Why, raw meat, you ninny."

I kept Jackie on the leash that evening, standing in the kitchen between Billy and me while we had company over. I stood on the lead to her collar so she couldn't go anywhere, and fed her scraps and petted her. She was never again relucant to let me handle her again.

Jackie was very grateful to be indoors, fed, loved and safe. Unlike Barney, who was a locust for any attention or calories, Jackie was patient, accomodating and adapting. One evening, I put in the movie "It's My Party," which I was then emotionally unprepared for. The movie made me reflect upon the dozens of friends that I'd lost to AIDS, and as the film reached its climax, I was sobbing. Jackie climbed into my lap and began licking my face. Barney, being the shit that he was, crawled into my lap as well, but he wanted the attention Jackie was getting - he wouldn't have cared if I was bleeding to death as long as he got all the food and attention.

When we moved into the apartment on Bagby, Jackie would frequently get on the bed at night and sleep near me. If I awoke during the night, I could feel the almost feather-light change in pressure as she jumped off of the bed.

Because of Barney's behavior, I started penning the two of them into the kitchen when I'd go away or sleep at night. Barney was always a piddler, who'd walk and squirt. Jackie would squat and do her business all at once, and I assumed I could differentiate between the two of them if there was an accident at home. Boy, was I wrong about that.

After a short transition period after I started restraining them in the kitchen, I'd arise nearly every morning and find a big puddle of urine in the kitchen. It was not the typical Barney walking squirt, so I assumed it was Jackie doing the dirty work. I took to "caging" her by tethering her to the laundry room door, limiting her movement to just a small area.

That worked for a short time, and then I'd arise and find Jackie, tethered to the door, standing in a lake of urine, soaking wet.

These were not good mornings for me. For her, either.

One morning, I awoke and heard the inimitable sound of urine splashing on a tile floor coming from the kitchen. Silently, I lept from my bed and dashed to the kitchen. I looked around the corner to where Jackie was tethered, and .. Barney had insinuated himself BETWEEN her and the laundry room door, and was urinating BEHIND her.

Our assumption that dogs and other creatures don't have the power to be calculating or make plans is flawed.

Jackie's life got much better after that.

In February 2007, Barney had a stroke. He was thirteen years old, and had gotten quite frail. After spending nearly ten years with him, Jackie wasn't in the least bit distressed by her constant companion lying there incapacitated. She seemed almost to communicate "ignore the black one, now it's MY turn!"

She was indeed pampered after Barney's passing. I only regret that her pampering and being attended to had to wait until Barney passed along; she had gotten old enough that we could only incrementally improve her life, not create a new one.

Jackie was a trooper in all respects - in April last, when we went with Robert and his two dogs to the ranch in Colorado, she only complained when the other dogs would plow into her in their unbridled enthusiasm in the back seat. She checked things out, and then napped for a week in the sun.

It's nearly impossible to see the physical decline in a creature you're with every day in close quarters. Jackie was having trouble going up and down stairs a year ago. She had trouble negotiating the rocks in Colorado, and she was having difficulty with the hills here in San Francisco.

Over the last two weeks, she had lost interest in eating, and was vomiting every day. Although she was clearly uncomfortable, her personality didn't change a bit. She was aloof except when she wanted attention, she was enthusiastic about going outside, and she hated getting wet.

We went back to the self-serve dog wash yesterday, and she wasn't too pleased about getting wet - again - but, she soldiered through. She couldn't walk up the steep hills, and I had to carry her.

Today, I took her to David's vet. For the first time, she couldn't get herself into the car and I had to lift her in. She sat, expectantly, on the floorboard, and nosed around with her normal detached enthusiasm in the new place. Even though visits to the vet usually cause her distress, she was peaceful and affectionate.

Initially, they couldn't find evidence of anything that would clearly explain her condition. She had arthritis far more severely than I had believed; her lower back and shoulders must have caused her great discomfort. Her stomach was distended, and they at first thought that they could treat her with a curative for her stomach lining and an appetite enhancer. The other vet did an ultrasound of her abdomen, and they found the large tumor in her stomach.

Chow chows have stomach cancer more than 20 times more often than other breeds, and when they become symptomatic, it's too late to do anything about it. Her blood values were all quite normal, so she wasn't feeling the effects of her illness, other than the stomach discomfort. There was only one decision to make, and they brought her out to say good-bye.

Jackie wasn't too much interested in being loved on right then, she was ready to move on to the next thing. She kept heading for the door, and the next place there was to go.

I've had a dog since Fred came wandering around in 1982. All three of my dogs were unwanted in their lives, discarded and thrown aside. Jackie was the most special of the three. She spent her whole life with me being grateful that I had taken her in.

Perhaps it's a sign that I'm now done with that part of my life that today was her day to exit this plane. She was the last real link to who I've always known myself to be. The rest is just dross - structures and detritus that needs to be cleared away, dealt with and disposed of.

I'm grateful to have had the time with her. I'll miss hearing her clacking around on the floor, miss her soft snore as she sleeps the day away, the happy look on her face when she gingerly chews her food, her reluctance to get her feet wet, and her nudging me with her snout, looking to get validation and love.

Godspeed, gentle soul.

And another one bites the dust

So, while in Bellingham, I finally got to tour the Boeing Museum of Flight and walk through a BAC Concorde (G-BOAG) - I had always wanted to fly on one, but that was rather out of reach. Interestingly, it was very small and not very plush inside. Apparently, the experience was in the service and the speed.

This week, the QE2 makes its final transatlantic crossing - then it makes a Mediterranean cruise before being gutted out, towed to Dubai and converted (as in physically revised) into a floating hotel and casino. Always wanted to cross on the QE2.

And, this morning, I found this picture on Airliners.net (yes, there's a porn site for airline geeks such as I am) It's a picture of a DC-3 at Berlin Tempelhof airport. I've always wanted to fly into Tempelhof, that's the Berlin airport that was built for the 1938 Berlin Olympics. it's one of only two manmade structures in the world that's large enough to be seen from outer space (the other being the great wall of China). The airplanes pull in and park inside the structure (as you can see in the picture). It's the airport into which all the flights went for the Berlin airlift.

The airport is closing forever on 31 Oct. Tempelhof is now considered unsafe for airport operations; the city is grown up all around it, and the runways are too short. Berlin is rebuilding one of its three airports into a totally new facility and they're closing the other two, Tempelhof being the first to go.

In short order, Tempelhof's runways will be dug up, and that land redeveloped. The terminal building itself will be modified for some other use, and that it was once the world's first modern international airport will be available only through photographs and the memories of those who flew there.

If I did manage to go, would it be as my visit to Concorde was? Anti-climactic? I don't know. It is just an airport. The reward and attachment I used to have to elements of the past has faded into nothingness.

For instance, twenty years ago, I paid good money for a piece of coal from the Titanic wreck site, and an autographed photo of she who is now the last Titanic survivor, Melvinia Dean. Ms. Dean has reached an age where she requires ongoing care, and she is selling the last of her Titanic related memorabilia, including the child's sized wicker suitcase given her by the New York charities to carry her belongings once she arrived with her mother and family in New York on the Carpathia.

A few years ago, before the Green Imperial, I'd have been rabid for that suitcase. I'd have displayed it carefully with other momentos of a life that wasn't my own, and dusted it periodically; showing it to visitors and relating the story of what it was and how I came to possess it.

Now, I have no interest in it. Judy said to me yesterday that she would love to have the ability to buy that wicker suitcase for me, but that's a me that doesn't exist anymore.

Just as I reach this point in my life, I find that the market for such "treasures" has collapsed along with people's home equity lines of credit. So, I'll be hanging onto my "collection," perhaps in boxes, until a rosier day when they can be disposed of favorably.

So, it's much less my dream of flying into Tempelhof and seeing the 1930s terminal that has bitten the dust. It's my interest in seeking out fulfillment from these things outside myself that mean nothing in a life that's focused on now.