Terrible Analogies

The wife and I recently had the distinct displeasure of volunteering our services to dog sit for a neighbor who was traveling out of state.  As we were being walked though the daily routine of two of the most coddled and pampered animals this side of a PeTA afternoon luncheon, my mind began to go numb as the requirements of these two dogs became more maniacal and obtuse than the assembly instructions for the Large Hadron Collider.  As the tour of house and home came to a close we were handed three pages of hand written instructions, a portion of which reads as follows (with the emphases typed in as written):

• Margee gets fed at 8am and 5pm sharp.  Her food bowls can be found in the laundry room.  Margee gets one part dry & one part wet food.  Cut and mix in tripe found in the fridge.
• Margee likes to be talked to while she eats.  You can talk about anything, but speak softly.
• Angee gets fed at 7:30am and 4:30pm sharp!  I can’t emphasis this enough!  Angee gets extremely jealous if she sees Margee eating before her.  Margee’s bowls are under the coffee table in the living room. 
• Angee gets two parts wet and one part dry food.  Pour in a half cup of chicken stock, which can be found in the refrigerator door.  Angee tends to get overexcited and pees when she sees you preparing her food.  Just clean up after her with the paper towels under the sink.
• Walk both dogs at 11am.  Again, I can’t stress this enough!  A walk around the neighborhood is the perfect distance.  When you get back home, Angee will not walk back into the house.  You’ll have to pick her up and carry her to her bed.  Do not put her down on the floor!  Put her down in her bed!
• Playtime is at 3pm.  Again, Angee tends to get excited when it’s playtime.  Again, just clean up after her with the paper towels.
• Angee plays with the tug-o-rope.  Never let her lose or you’ll have a sad dog on your hands!
• Margee plays with the rubber ring.  Don’t let Angee play with the rubber ring or Margee will bite you.
• Put Angee and Margee in their kennels at 8pm.  Margee gets the blue blanket, Angee the green.
• Wash the blankets on Mon/Wed/Fri.  Use the special fabric softener in the laundry room.
• Turn on the radio.  It’s tuned to a station that both Angee and Margee like.  Do not change the station!  If you change it then Angee and Margee will toss and turn all night.

Blah blah blah blah…this went on and on for pages.   For Gawd’s sake, these are dogs, not children.  Dogs live to please their master, not the other way around.  Honestly, this was more trouble than it was worth.  There was no way I was going to baby these animals, cooing to them while they ate and congratulating them for piddling on my shoes whenever I walked through the door.  

On the fourth day we simply fed them dry dog food, played catch with them in the back yard, and made sure they had fresh water.  And you know what, they were fine and appeared to enjoy themselves like dogs are supposed to.  This experience really gave me a window into my neighbor’s soul that I rather wish would have remained shuttered.

Man, some people have their priorities all out of whack and fail to understand when simple dog ownership becomes a target for misplaced emotions.  And people wonder why I’m a cat person.

Which reminds me, don’t get me started on cat people…

Whelp, it looks like Edgar Mitchell, pilot of Apollo 14 and record holder for the longest moon walk, is set to talk about his UFO experiences at this week’s X-Conference 2009.

I point this out to shamelessly segue way into my own personal “encounter” I had many years ago.

To preface this a bit, let me tell you that I am not a loon, nutter, or whackjob.  I believe the vast majority of people who know me will testify to that belief.  I’m a levelheaded individual that walks with a debunker’s gait, and I’m not easily swayed by the latest hype.  With that being said…

Fifteen (has it been that long?!) years ago I was in my parent’s backyard with my 10″ Dobsonian telescope checking out the Orion Nebula when I saw what I was sure was a satellite slowly tracking across a backdrop of stars.  I watched with interest as this solid point of light steadily arched its way through the sky when suddenly and without warning it changed direction ninety degrees and shot off in a streak of white light, disappearing behind the silhouette of a neighbor’s house.  

My immediate reaction was a cool, “Well, that’s odd.”

And that’s my story.  Fascinating, I know.  I’m still not sure what I saw that night, but I’ve ruled out satellites, planes, meteors, space debris, hallucination, fireworks, and swamp gas from a weather balloon that was trapped in a thermal pocket which refracted light from Venus.

I’m still not sure what it could have been, but I’ve not seen it’s kind since.  I often go camping at Joshua Tree and Anza-Borrego and am quite used to being under an intimidating curtain of stars.  I know what satellites and airplanes look like as they cleave paths through the heavens.  I’ve witnessed my fair share of meteor showers.  Heck, I’ve even seen a plane accident at an air show.  But I’ve never, ever seen anything like what I saw that night many years ago.

Easter Sunday:  I woke up early and slunk downstairs to pour myself a heaping bowl of Cap’N Crunch, sprawled out on the couch, and repeatedly flipped the TV back and forth between the Cartoon Network and the Speed channel.  I was in that mystical zone, somewhere between waking from a dream state and slipping into a sugar coma, when the wife gave a shout from somewhere upstairs.

I heard the patter of feet above my head.  Seconds later I watched as the cat tumbled down the stairs quickly followed by Karin, who breathlessly suggested that I go outside.  There’s….something on the street.

Putting my cereal bowl down, I slowly heaved myself off the couch and stepped into the garage.  Giving the oversized garage door button a clumsy, meaty slap with the palm of my hand I quickly pawed through my hair in an attempt to look presentable just in case I bumped into a neighbor.  The clunky sound of chains and sprockets squealed as they pulled the garage door up and over our heads.  Shading the morning sun from my face with raised hands, my squinting eyes strained to adjust to the light, then strained yet again to try to comprehend what they was seeing.

The first thing I thought of was Spring Heeled Jack, but this couldn’t be…could it?  This demanded closer investigation.

Strange markings covered the street in front of our house. What could they be?

Oh...I get it. It's Easter, no? They must be bunny tracks!

Bunny tracks outside our front door

Wow...it looks like somebody left something behind.

The Easter Bunny left a small gift on everyone's doorstep!

Inside the hollow plastic egg was this Easter greeting

Kudos to the neighbor who went through all this trouble!