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

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

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

Induction as Honorary Board Member at The Coffee Loft in Fairhope, AL

Click link to play video of Willie Bean’s crowd-pleasing acceptance speech
http://smilebox.com/playEmail/4d5441344e444d344e5452384d6a45324e4467794e44673d0d0a&sb=1

Click link to play video of Induction of Honorary Board Member
http://smilebox.com/playEmail/4d5441344e444d314d4452384d6a45324e4467794e44673d0d0a&sb=1
Willie Bean Roscoe P Coltrane, an 8-year old yellow Labrador Retriever, now has the prestigious title of Honorary Board Member of the Baldwin County Humane Society (BARC!)

Willie Bean The Political Watchdog gained notoriety last year when he ran for Mayor of Fairhope, Alabama, and subsequently President. 

His website http://www.WillieBeanForMayor.com gets traffic from all over the globe.  His MySpace and Facebook pages have thousands of friends who regularly blog with Willie.

Willie Bean caught the ceremonial first pitch at a Mobile Bay Bears game and caught the ear of Late Night with David Letterman. 

He received letters and visits from Sweden, Brazil and Italy; and appeared twice on MTV Canada to help choose their candidates for Prime Minister by licking their photos.

Just this week CoastalAlabamaTV.com interviewed Willie as a potential candidate for a future U.S. House of Representatives seat.

What Willie Bean is most known for, though, is his love of kids around the Eastern Shore.  He leads the First Friday Fun Walks at Fairhope Intermediate.

Tress Turner, his owner, has always been a staunch supporter of the spay/neuter program offered through BARC!  She donated portions of Willie Bean’s campaign contributions to BARC! and attends many of their events.

“Tress and Willie’s community involvement in Baldwin County is why BARC! approached Turner about Willie Bean serving as an Honorary Board Member” said Gwynn.  “As an animal welfare organization, we felt our human directors would benefit from having a canine prospective.  And, best of all, Willie is adamant that he will not only represent other canines, but cats and other creatures BARC! works to protect.” 

Recently BARC! Board Members met Willie Bean at his campaign headquarters (The Coffee Loft in Fairhope, Alabama) to induct him. Immediately following, Willie Bean gave a crowd-pleasing acceptance speech by licking Maria Gwynn, President, and Prima Plauche’ newly-appointed Media Volunteer. 

Willie Bean’s first official duty is Grand Marshall for the BARC! For A Cure dog walk on September 19 at Loxley Municipal Park.  Next, he will officiate at the Cove Dog Olympics on October 10 at Pirate’s Cove in Josephine.

We dogs attended an outdoor ‘town mall’ meeting in Fairhope the other night scheduled for 10 PM in the French Quarter.  Our community had been organized by Lucky Dog, Diplomatic Whelp, who said he was coming to listen to everyday dogs’ concerns about the proposed World Dog (and Cat) Health Plan (WDCHP).  

In the run up to the meeting, rumors abounded about long lines at clinics, disallowing your choice of Vet, Public Dog Pool Options and ‘put you down’ panels.    

At 9:55 PM, several busses pulled up on De La Mare Ave and offloaded some really big scary cats who proceeded to close the gates before our entire group could get in.  The muscle cats were part of the Feline Employees International Union (FEIU) and had been bussed in from an out of state zoo.  They immediately began herding fat cats from the other busses marked Future Oaks, into the courtyard via a side entrance.  The fat cats were given the front rows, directly below Lucky Dog, where they purred, meowed and hissed during the entire meeting.  

None of the attending dogs had read the details in the 1000+ page World Dog (and Cat) Health Plan document because dogs can’t read, and even if they could, no dog, red dog, green dog or blue dog would have endured it.  I mean, really, most dogs missed Gone with the Wind.  And the WDCHP doesn’t have pictures either.   Here’s what a few of the dogs had to say.

Robert E. Lee, a King Charles Spaniel, an overly friendly ‘greeter’ at Zia on Fairhope Avenue, felt like a victim instead of a beneficiary.  ‘Sir, I’m feeling like it’s Appomattox all over again but there’s a distinct difference this time.  This fight has only just begun and the outcome is certain to be different.’  In expressing his opinion, Robert E. Lee barked a little louder than normal but that’s what dogs do when they are on the defensive.   ‘I am even more dangerous when you attack me where I live.’  His usual friendly demeanor had temporarily disappeared.

Priscilla LaFleur, a Miniature Maltese ‘performer’ assists at Prissy Pots Gift Shop.  She can sit, rollover, shake and give high 5’s or high 4’s if you don’t count the dew claw.   Her job is to recline demurely in her wrought iron 4-poster bed.  Known as the Pampered Princess, you can imagine how the media lights affected her behavior.   When it was her turn to speak, she squeezed out a shrill scream, ‘I am afraid, Lucky, but not of you.  I would bite your tail if I could reach it.  You are leading us backwards.  I don’t want to go backwards.  I want a future  better than the past.  I’m going to poop in your mess kit.’   No one had ever seen that side of Priscilla LeFleur.  She was panting very hard and foaming at the mouth.  Poor little thing.

Snoopy is the Security Basset Hound at Fairhope True Value Hardware; big fan of FOX News but mostly sleeps.  During the meeting, he was awakened by the call to the podium.  Somewhat confused, he growled hard at Lucky Dog.  ‘There are so many conflicting reports.  What used to be oral is now anal.  Does Mometamax go in my ears or up my butt?   Are Capstars now suppositories?  Is Heartgard for worms or arrhythmia?  You’ve made me cynical, Lucky.  I’m having misinformation overload!  I don’t believe anything you say anymore but I know this; I am opposed to that Public Dog Pool Option thing.

One of the FEIU cats in the front row finally said something significant.  ‘Hey Lucky, more care for more dogs for less money with fewer Vets.  Sounds fishy to me.  Make a note and report it to that ‘flag something’ website!’  The insolent cat was immediately led from the courtyard and unceremoniously gassed in a special vehicle parked outside on Church Street.

The news media portrayed the ‘town mall’ participants as snarley and confrontational, like Gestapo attack dogs; and those were just the local older members belonging to the AARF.  Lucky Dog had again failed to explain the plan to the older guys already on Medi-Dog, who had the most to lose, the quickest.  Lucky apparently doesn’t read either.  No one mentioned the gassing of the fat cat.

As for the proposed World Dog (and Cat) Health Plan mongrel, I say kill it, eviscerate it and mummify it.  Then fix the maladies of the existing mutt.

The Wisdom of Willie Bean

There’s a secret cove on Mobile Bay; a place for really bad dogs; Dogtanamo Bay.  DTMO.  Ditmo.

It’s a detention kennel, off the beaten track, secluded at water’s edge, owned and operated by Gestapo-esk proprietors Ronald and Charlotte Wasser.  The name over the chain linked and barbed wire fence at the entrance reads simply;  WASSER BOARDING FOR BAD DOGS.  It’s not on the American Kennel Club’s list of approved facilities.  It’s methods were, at one time,  CONFIDENTIAL.

Although WASSER BOARDING has adopted, sheltered, guarded, fed and medicated these animals back to complete health, and provided them emergency services and rehab programs, the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Terrorists (SPCT) wants to release them back onto the streets of Fairhope, sooner rather than later, without muzzling or in some cases, neutering.

Let’s look at a few of the detainees held at Ditmo.

Jaws.  A Pakistani Striped Hyaena; one bad dude; an exception to the rule of mammalian biology.  According to a WASSER BOARDING spokesperson, Jaws possesses bone cracking power and has repeatedly tried to demolish an outbuilding inside the kennel grounds by biting the support pilings in half.  I don’t think he’ll brunch well at The Fairhope Inn.

Crazy Kooch.  An Afghan Sage Koochee; big, tough and rangy, originally protected sheep and goats, ended up eating most of them.  ‘Crazy’ was filmed tearing off the head of a lost and  peace loving American Collie.  How would you like to be waiting for a haircut at Ken & Vernon’s Barber Shop with this beast laying on the floor next to you?  I don’t think so.  

Junkyard Jidda.  A ‘Designer Dog’ combination Chihuahua, Rat Terrier and Mongoose.  ‘Junkyard’ was turned away from his original destination because dogs were banned as a threatening Western influence; you know, babe magnets for boys.  Junkyard never recovered emotionally.  His favorite food is human entrails.  In a recent on site interview with the Canine News Network, ‘Junkyard’ jumped the interior grounds restraining barrier, mounted the interviewer, peed on the camera tripod and pooped in a film canister.  His actions intimidated the news crew, threatened the peace and caused  calculated chaos.  If released, he could easily hide amidst the wine racks at Red and White.  You could be reaching for a nice Cabernet and, wham, adios to your right arm.  

Hurricane Pukas.   Part rat.  Boils slowly.  She possesses Cat 5 (excuse the feline reference) destructive power.   She’ll wear you down with an hours long vicious frontal assault then finish you with a surge unmatched in this world.  She’ll destroy your life as you know it.   If she is allowed to freely roam Section Street, just board up your house and ask forgiveness.     

I say DO NOT release the hounds.   Keep Ditmo.  Long live WASSER BOARDING FOR BAD DOGS!

The Wisdom of Willie Bean