Dogs are not perfect and events are not always controllable.  Things occasionally go wrong.  The actions taken immediately following the event always separate the dogs from the pups.

Example:  Something goes wrong.
Possible responses / actions:

Do nothing.
Do nothing and hope for the best.
Watch closely in amazement.
Wander in with 2 feet and wonder how this happened.
Jump in with 4 feet without a plan.
Jump in with 4 feet with a bad plan.
Get excited.  Bark.
Bark a lot.
Go for help.  Find help.  Get lost on return.
Analyze the situation.
Formulate a plan.
Institute the plan.  Engage.
Modify the plan to meet dynamic realities of new challenges.
Execute the plan
Save the day.

As you can see, there are many possible responses / actions for any given event.   I like Dog Rule #3.

Give me a dog who does something right when something goes wrong.

The Wisdom of Willie Bean

Imagine a cat jumping from the top of a corner cupboard, across the room to a free standing bird cage, in such a manner that the motion of the cat is uniform and in a straight line.   If I, the pet dog, observe the flight of the cat as I walk across the dining room floor, I would find that the motion of the cat would be one of different velocity and direction, but that the flight of the cat would still be uniform and in a straight line.

If I could express that phenomenon abstractly ( and I cannot ), I might say:  If a mass ( cat ) is moving uniformly in a straight line with respect to another co-ordinate system ( bird cage ), then it will also be moving uniformly and in a straight line relative to a second co-ordinate system ( me walking ), provided that I am executing a uniform translatory motion with respect to the bird cage.

I, of course, have no idea how I arrived at that conclusion but I seem to be aware of many things, as you have no doubt surmised by now.

To me, relativity has something to do with ‘pick of the litter’, which I, of course, was.  The relativity of the others born to my mother, to me, is insignificant, for I did not pick me.  Someone else did.

Also, in my uncomplicated world, right now, I am hungry and the relativity of my food dish, to me, is some distance across the room.  Thank goodness it’s not moving because my translatory motion may not be uniform and I could, theoretically, miss the dish.

The Wisdom of Willie Bean

 It’s official!  The Old Point Bar is located in historic Algiers Point, New Orleans just minutes from the French Quarter by ferry.  Dog friendly and Willie Bean ready!  Tshirts, signs, bumper stickers and more!  Live music and great New Orleans attitudes!  How much more can a Big Dog ask for?

Where y’at?

Lucas (Lukey), a Battles Wharf Designer Dog, has been named PHART CZAR of Fairhope, new Plan Director for the proposed Crap, Gas & Trade legislation designed to establish acceptable future levels of dog poops and toots.   Believe me, he has earned the title.  The PHART CZAR will identify emission offenders, dogs who poop and toot excessively, as well as their compliant counterparts.  The output of non-compliant large emission producers will be averaged with non-offenders to ascertain punishment or reward, depending.  While actual dog crap should be measureable and recordable, gas releases will remain more enigmatic, if not aromatic, and somewhat difficult to quantify.  That will be the PHART CZAR’s biggest challenge, CFM notwithstanding.   

He must hold his head high, nose to the wind and follow each trail every scent of the way.  Even so, the task may still overcome him.

The Dog Czars of Fairhope

The Big Dog Jumps into the New Orleans Mayoral Race

Willie Bean Roscoe P Coltrane, a New Orleans native, announces his run for mayor, bringing with him a fresh approach to politics and a mission to bring economic and environmental renewal to the city.Willie embodies the Spirit of New Orleans in many ways and his leadership is characterized by honesty, loyalty, and integrity. He loves the New Orleans culture and people and strongly believes in being active in the community. Deeply committed to a New Orleans renaissance, Willie only does his business locally. He epitomizes the possibilities of the great American Dream.

Robert E. Lee, a King Charles Spaniel, has been appointed ARF CZAR of Fairhope.  ‘Robbie’ is the overly friendly Greeter at Zia, 300 Fairhope Avenue.  He’s a real big talker, thus ARF CZAR.  He is also a real ‘Piece of Work’ which qualified him for the Fairhope Piece Prize.   Robby has ascended to the heights, nearly, of Lucky Dog, the Leader of the Pack.  The similarities are astounding; a Big Talking Piece Prize Winner.

Robbie’s best friend and playmate, Hope, is a big black cat.  That’s cool…

The Dog Czars of Fairhope

Last evening, I lapped up a remnant puddle of warm beer which had spilled onto the kitchen floor.  As I later relaxed beneath the dining room table, my friends were talking from above; about me.  I heard them use my name.  ‘That Willie, he sure has it good.’  Or, she might have said, ‘Bad Willie, his head is like wood.’   Or, it may have been, ‘Fat Willie, he’d quit if he could.’  Doesn’t matter the context, they were talking about ME.  I loved it!

I listened and smiled to myself,  drifting slowly toward sleep. The last thing I heard was something about a bone in the back yard; digging up a large bone…bone digging….huge…bigger than…laugh laugh…Willie…good night.

I floated dreamily through the back door.  I didn’t remember that it was a French door but it must have been.  Only the top half was open as my cloudlike body glided toward the courtyard behind.  The moon seemed Louisiana.  It illuminated an enormous Cheshire Cat balloon, with purple and gold sparkles for fur, hanging weightlessly above the granite and grass.  The balloon wore Budweiser beads.  Her eyes flashed open.  I was pretty certain she was female.  You can’t be sure about cats.  

She whispered, ‘Willie, you big beautiful yellow boy dog.’  She then spat.  I floated closer.  ‘Yes?’  The smell of Magnolia perfume screamed about my nose.    

‘Willie, Willie, Willie,’ she purred.  ‘Would you like to see my Greenie?  It may be too much for you.’  

‘No way,’ I thought.  I’d never seen a Greenie that was too big.  Too chewy, maybe, but never too big!  I loved a challenge.  I hoped that we were talking about an actual Greenie and not a cat’s interpretation of a Greenie or a cat’s body part.  Cats are weird, you know.  Anyway, I don’t think cats eat Greenies.  Do they?  She gestured toward the ground below.  I saw what appeared to be the nub of a green bone protruding from the grass.  Thank goodness.  

‘It’s yours if you can chew it,’ she meowed.

I swiped at it once with my right front paw.  The ground opened to reveal the biggest chew bone I’d ever seen.  It barely fit into my dreamlike state.  It was awesome.  How could I possibly drag it into my world.   I could not.  It was too big.  I would take only what I could handle.  I would be conservative.  I would be sensible.  I began biting through the chew, worried that I may be taking on too much; that I couldn’t handle the size of the piece.  What if this self inflicted challenge was too overwhelming?  What if I could not do justice to this piece? What if it got the best of me?  What if I failed?

The she-cat air bag expanded, wildly distorting her features.  She continued to morph, filling the entire courtyard dream scene.  She showed me her mojo root.  I was in a trance now, under her spell.  ‘I’ll do anything you say.’  Rain came down.  Steam rose above iron gates.  Storm clouds raced, flickering across the moon.

Her face twisted.  She laughed with mocking glee… and then she hissed.  ‘Take off a bigger piece, Willie.  You can do it.  Remember Dog Rule #5!’

‘Bite off more than you can chew; then chew it!’   

I awakened; hungry for a challenge but smelling of stale beer.  

The Wisdom of Willie Bean; and Duane

Hap Rules
by Lewis Napper

My father “Hap” was an extraordinarily good animal trainer. He was a farmer and rancher his whole life. When he was a child, he and his family lived like wacko environmentalists – off the grid and off the land. Of course they did it out of necessity but the point is that he was very in tune with nature and uncanny with animals.

He used the same rules to train his kids that he used to train dogs and horses. The primary, foundation rules went like this:

1) Don’t ask for anything unless you absolutely must have it.
2) If you ask for it, get it, every time so that there’s no confusion.

Hap trained me to train animals and I did well with dogs, but I never had the relationship with horses that he did. Horses were happy to see Hap. Any horse would follow Hap anywhere. It seemed that they wanted to do whatever it was that he wanted them to do. I tried to emulate my Dad in every way and do exactly what he did, but something was missing. I didn’t have “the gift” for horse training that my Dad did.

Decades later I was frustrated with the latest addition to our family – a dog my daughter rescued named “Wally”. Wally got off to a rough start in life. We don’t know her whole story but she was hurt and bleeding on the side of the road when my daughter picked her up and brought her home.

Wally and I got off to a rough start too. When Wally and I first met, she immediately had an accident on the floor and then used her wagging tail to swipe some of it up into my face. I didn’t lose my temper, but I think Wally could tell that was not my favorite greeting.

Time went by and Wally just would not do what I said. She had no interest in doing what I said. Finally, one day Kimberly explained why, “Wally doesn’t think you love her and if you don’t love her, she doesn’t care what you think.”

But that was wrong, I did love Wally. I dearly loved Wally for saving my daughter’s life. But Wally wasn’t feelin’ it. So I focused all my attention on making sure that Wally knew how I truly felt. It wasn’t long at all until Wally and I were getting along like peas and carrots.

Then it finally dawned on me. That was Hap’s trick. That’s what I was missing. It didn’t matter that Hap and I sounded exactly alike and moved exactly alike and did exactly the same things. The gift was that the horses knew that Hap loved them.

My complete awakening  is necessarily hindered by my trusting gullibility, for I tend to take you at your word.  My stages of enlightenment have been temporarily stymied by an unsettling disillusionment.  Let’s examine WHY.

When seeking support from the people of Fairhope, you, Lucky Dog, as our emerging leader, assured us that you would deliver ‘Change we can believe in.’  Those words were touted all over the streets, on placards, in audio and video; your mantra.

It sounded pretty good and we took you at your word.  We voted you to be the Leader of the Pack.  Shortly thereafter, we began to learn the true meaning of your slogan and its neatly hidden message; the message inside the word CHANGE.

As a noun,  CHANGE has subtle meanings and nuances – a transformation, an alteration, a modification, a passing from one state to another, anything that is or may be substituted for another, the supplanting of one thing for another, the change of seasons, social change.  Wow.  Pick your meaning.   ‘The change was from Prince to toad.’

As a verb – to pass from one phase to another, to transform, to convert, to remove and replace, to substitute, to transfer from one to another. ‘The wizard changed the Prince into a toad.’

Here’s a transformational definition for you, Lucky Dog, one in which you can believe.  CHANGE:  to become different.  ‘Overnight the nation’s mood changed.’

As a loyal Yellow Labrador, I was heretofore unaware that enlightenment could also be painful.  Sometimes, the truth hurts; like when enlightenment uncovers deception, lies and misdirection.  The changes that were promised, the changes for which we dogs had hoped and the changes in which we wanted to believe are very different from the changes that you have thus far delivered.

That’s why we street dogs are already looking for another kind of change in which WE can believe;  ’a Replacement.’

The Wisdom of Willie Bean