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 great to be an American dog.  I can blog, run for political office, party down at Mardi Gras and observe national holidays like Memorial Day, July 4th and Labor Day.  I can do that because other Great American Dogs have fought for our Constitutional freedom.

I won’t apologize for the brave actions of former Leaders of the Pack who led other dutiful dogs into battle, heroically fighting on some distant bloody beach, hedgerow, jungle or desert, against despotism, the suppression of freedom or some punk dictatorship, so that we could live peacefully today in Fairhope, Alabama.  Whether on the brutal battlefield or inside the War on Terror, it’s kill or be killed.  It’s not pretty but it’s true.

On March 13, 1942, when the world was in great conflict, the Under Secretary of War, Honorable Robert P. Patterson authorized the induction of dogs into the U. S. Army.   Dogs became valuable and trusted partners on the battle field; scouts, sentries, messengers, ‘casualty dogs’, etc.  Some were trained at nearby Gulfport, Mississippi.  All were placed in great jeopardy.  Many died.

I have a War Dog ancestor.  You can read about him in this link.   http://www.qmfound.com/War_Dogs.htm Chips, Andy, Otto, Caesar, Jack, many more, all preceded me.  You can thank  them for their service but don’t apologize for their accomplishments or the outcome of their conflicts.

Today, many American Dogs are truly distressed by the attitude of the current Leader of the Pack, Lucky Dog.  Lucky has risen to power on the backs of millions of dead and wounded dogs who put it on the line for all the Luckys who might follow.  Why does this Lucky Dog insist on apologizing for the past actions of our country, for the defense of our national security or others’ national safety, for the harvesting and use of natural resources to improve the quality of life, or for the development of countless new technologies which we have freely shared with the rest of the world?  Disgusting.

Lucky Dog, you should apologize for your apologies then stick to what you know well.  Sit.  Shake.  Speak.  But please quit rolling over.

I say celebrate.  Thank the Big Dog for our freedom.  And on this Memorial Day, pass me a weenie with mustard and relish, and hold the regret if you don’t mind.

The Wisdom of Willie Bean

On Tuesday, January 10, 2009, New Orleans’ woofers lined both sides of Perdido Street, 6 dogs deep, to witness a most unlikely event; the installation of Lucky Dog as Leader of the Pack.

Every dog, whether black, white, red, yellow, spotted or hairless, watched with bursting pride as Lucky Dog stood in front of City Hall for his Coronation, making him the highest ranking dog in New Orleans.  His rise to the top had not been without obstacles.  Heretofore, and as long as any dog could remember, Lucky’s ancestors had been treated with disdain, hostility, even contempt.  Wrongfully, they had often been regarded as inferior and unworthy, and were never even considered for the ‘Leader of the Pack’ position.  Many were unjustly abused.  Many, also, were slain.  It was unfair but it was real.

The disdain had become traditional.  Misunderstandings and untruths were passed from litter to litter.  Repeated acts of prejudice imprinted themselves onto the genetic code; ingrained hatred evolved, nearly impossible to erase.

Lucky was very special, however, blessed with a nose that could detect mood shifts as well as uncommon scents.   His velvet throat and silver tongue bayed to yearning ears.  Lucky had never led another dog (or cat) down any path but he was somehow able to convince most New Orleans canines to abandon their support for other mutts in the race and vote for him.  Lucky Dog promised hope against hope and change from all ‘bad’ things past.  His message was timely.  The street dogs were hungry.  Past leaders were rebuffed.  Lucky Dog was overwhelmingly chosen Number One; THE ONE.

With his crown in place, he uttered words and phrases from ‘on high’ designed to calm the skeptical dogs of dissent.  ‘We have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.’   ‘We must begin again the work of remaking New Orleans.’   Front page next day US Dog Today pictured Lucky Dog above the sprawling headline

LUCKY PLEDGES TO REMAKE NEW ORLEANS

‘We will not apologize for our way of life nor will we waver in its defense,’ said Lucky.   Really?  Really?

Lucky Dog continued on Coronation Day, ‘Let it be said by our puppies’ puppies that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and The Big Dog’s grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future litters.’

I cried tears of guilty relief.  The underdog had prevailed.  All past inequities, unfairness and injustices were neutralized.   The black dog had risen, no, had been elevated to the top.  The support was unprecedented.  The heartfelt unity was overpowering.  The tears fell and the cheers rose colorlessly together.  It was the moment for which the countryside had waited.  It was magnificent!

New Orleans streets were awash in celebration.  ‘You da Dawg?’ screams careened around City Hall.  Confetti showered down from the rooftops.  Shouts of ‘Greenies for all of dog kind!’.

For days, the dogs of elation wore their cherished garb.  Some donned little doggie caps declaring ‘We were there.’  Others wore red, white and blue collars proudly proclaiming ‘We saw Lucky Dog.’

New Orleans dogs had finally voted for equality.  The hope for this leader’s future was without reservation.

That was then.  This is now.  And these are the lamentations of a Yellow Dog.

What has happened in 12 short months?  Lucky has apologized to the rest of the world for who we are and how we came to be.  He has hung an errant stimulus (debt) over ours and our grand puppies heads.  The World Dog (and cat) Health Plan flies in the face of all who can read or have the spare time to try.  The Lucky Dog Administration now owns car companies & banks.  The Crap, Gas & Trade (CG&T) legislation and its responsible Phart Czar, will raise the cost of electricity in the name of global cooling.  Lucky and his Czars continue their misguided efforts to close Dogtanamo Bay (DTMO).   Guilty terrorist dogs from DTMO are now being given protection under the Constitution of the United States of America while we, the everyday dogs, pay the bills to insure security around the trial court venue.  Leading dogs from other supposed friendly packs now question Lucky’s judgement and strength of will as he waffles and dithers around on enormous decisions; whether to fight or turn tail and run from the usual gang of bully dogs.   The endless apologies for New Orleans dogs’ ways of life; the whimpering, bowing and scraping to dogs from Downtown, Uptown, Mid-City and the rest of Orleans Parish, have become boring and redundant, tedious and trite.  And the eternal blaming of past Leaders of the Pack; great dogs in heaven, Lucky, please stop!

Finally, for now, we will defend our turf for ONLY a designated time.  When that time arrives, win lose of draw, we’ll abandon the fight.  Good grief.

These are but a few of the reasons to mourn and grieve for opportunities lost, for the squandering of hard earned past successes achieved with spilled warm blood and splattered guts.  These are sorrowful milestones.  These are actions of fools and mongrels blinded by ideology, self-interests and the misuse of power.

We the dogs missed the words’ simplistic meanings.  Lucky said them to our face.  They were clearly spoken for us to hear, and written for us to read and understand.  Instead, the pack reacted in unbidden and involuntary trance, swept away by mindless hope and the desire for viable, meaningful change.

Where is the hope now?  The changes suck!

‘We must begin again the work of remaking New Orleans.’  How did we miss that ominous warning?

And thus these lamentations of a Yellow Dog. . . .

The Wisdom of Willie Bean

By Press-Register staff

November 09, 2009, 9:02AM

Willie Bean, seen here in 2008, “announced” via his web site that he will be running for mayor of New Orleans.Willie Bean, the canine candidate who made an unsuccessful bid for mayor of Fairhope last fall, is off and running again.

The affable Labrador announced on his Web site recently that he will be a candidate for mayor of New Orleans. The city’s election is May 3, and so far the race to replace term-limited Mayor Ray Nagin has been notable mainly for the number of candidates who have opted not to run.

The lack of serious interest has prompted local write-in campaigns for political guru James Carville and actor Brad Pitt. There’s even a Web site promoting actor Carl Weathers, a.k.a. Apollo Creed from the “Rocky” movies, as a candidate.

Willie is a native of New Orleans and embodies the spirit of the Big Easy, according to his owner, Tress Turner.

“Just like most New Orleanians, Willie never meets a stranger,” said Turner, an artist and manager of the Coffee Loft in Fairhope.

Turner said Willie’s campaign will raise money for the Humane Society of Louisiana and has established local headquarters at the Old Point Bar in Algiers Point. For more information, visit Willie online at www.williebeanformayor.com.

 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?

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

No such thing.  Most dogs are born perfect.  We exist, then we seek food, not the essence of self.  

I had a large Great Dane friend named Kierkegaard, who conceptualized about the meaninglessness of life itself.  He developed a dread of nothingness; angst.  For him, angst equaled  barking at nothing, or possibly worried about barking at nothing; a nondirectional emotion.  

I’ll try to explain.  When I walk on the levy to the Algiers Ferry, I think about the ride across to the City and go over my plan on where I will position myself. That is actual fear of falling into the Mississippi River.  I call it the muddy river fear.  On the other hand, Kierkegaard always dreaded of the possibility that he might throw himself over the side and into the water.  He worried about nothing.  It was ‘makeup worry’; angst.

Can you imagine a bigger waste of time and energy?  He should have been learning about trucks.

Angst precedes nothing.  That’s what makes it different from fear.  Fear has an object and can be overcome with courage.  Fear is not a bad thing but don’t confuse ‘no fear’ with courage.  I knew a dog with no fear.   He also had never seen a truck.   The barking fool ran in, challenged the bumper and now sits close to The Big Dog above.  He was fearless but lacked the wisdom of TRUCK and now, he’s dead.  A dog who lacks fear can be more dangerous to himself, and others, than a coward.

Fear is normal in the face of fearful things.  A dog must be afraid once in awhile, face and overcome the challenge, then move on.  In doing so, he or she develops the confidence to face the next fearful challenge.  After a little practice, courage takes root deep within the soul and allows a dog to advance or retreat based upon acquired wisdom.  

Real courage has intelligent direction so hold your ground but not in the path of an oncoming TRUCK.  

I have a hard time with the whole concept of nondirectional emotion.  I really don’t care what it means and I’m not going to worry about it because it’s nothing to me.  And you should have figured out by now that if I worry about nothing, I will have disproven my lack of awareness of the concept of dread.  

Existentially speaking, I dread that happening.  Thanks a lot, Kierkegaard.

The Wisdom of Willie Bean