Author: Dick

Have you seen this dog?
Name: Champion Bohem C’est La Vie
Answers to “Vivi.”
Why answers to Vivi?
Because it’s a dog.
Age: 3
Last seen: JFK Airport, New York

Still no word on Vivi, the Westminster Kennel Club merit award winner that decided it was not quite ready to leave the Big Apple Wednesday. Reports indicated the whippet, which is sort of small terrier-greyhound-like dog, led airport workers on a chase in their automobiles. The workers reportedly clocked the dog going 25 mph. That leads me to wonder why they were clocking how fast the dog was going? Did they plan on giving it a ticket? Even more curious is this paragraph in the story:

“Dog experts say that whippets are known to run off and hide for as long as four days before re-emerging, and some know how to hunt.”

By dog experts, do they mean ALL dog experts? How do you get to be a dog expert? And how do you get all of them to agree on anything? Do dog experts have “Dog Expert” on their business cards? Secondly, I wish one of these so-called “dog experts” would tell us what whippets do when they are hiding. Do they wear disguises? Do they get a hair coat and try to pass themselves off as Afghan Hounds? And as to the point that some know how to hunt, do they drink beer before they hunt like SOMEONE WE KNOW?

These are real hunk-a-hunk-a-burning questions that I have.

Afterthoughtitis: After checking the above link, I also found the story headline to be rather odd. It says the dog ran away at a high speed. 25 mph? That’s a high speed? Perhaps it is in New York City. At first glance it might seem a relatively fast speed for a dog. But according to infoplease.com, a whippet’s top speed is 35.5 mph. So actually the dog wasn’t even running at its supposed top end. So, I think we’ve beaten that dead horse (top speed less than 1 mph).

My most recent obsession: dogs.

First, some late-breaking news. It seems one of our whippets is missing. That’s not one of MY whippets because I have neither a whippet nor anyone to make it OUR. That is, of course, if you don’t take into account my long-standing invisible friend, The Apostle Paul. Yes, THAT Aspostle Paul. It’s a long story. Be that as it may, a 3-year-old whippet named Vivi has apparently bolted from its cage at JFK Airport after having won a merit award at the Westminster Kennel Club’s doggie extravaganza in New York, New York. I suppose Vivi just wants to have fun. No?

I had to take a look at this Web site to remind me what a whippet looked like. They’re cute dogs, decended from greyhounds and terriers, with a pleasant-looking, angular snout.

A bigger contrast there could not be between the whippet and the bull terrier, which is the breed of Rufus, that won the Westminister. Here is what the New York Daily News had to say about Rufus:

“Rufus may have won the Westminster Kennel Club show, but plenty of New Yorkers think the bull terrier with a jumbo snout could just as easily fetched the ugly stick.”

Ouch! Now that was uncalled for.

What put me on this road to Hell that is paved with obsessions is a little dog I saw on my walk this morning.

The dog was tied up in someone’s backyard and was yapping a way. I can’t say I blame the poor thing. I don’t particularly like to be tied up and left in the backyard either, although … Well, let’s just skip that thought. This dog was a Doberman in miniature (a Miniature Doberman perhaps?)It looked and barked like a Doberman that had been crossed with a Chihuahua. What do you call those dogs anyway? A Doberhuahua. No, that sounds like an electric guitar pedal. Nonetheless, I thought the dog was rather odd looking. As someone who used to share space with a Doberman-Great Dane mix who went by the name of Cochise, the little dog I saw just somehow didn’t look quite Doberman-ish (If that is a word. If not, what ya going to do about it?)

I just hope Vivi is safe and sound, and Rufus finds true love. Meanwhile, the Apostle Paul and I will just go grab a bite for supper. I swear it will be the last supper … that we have today.
(Ed. note: Perhaps the last supper reference is too inside baseball. Nonetheless, Paul reminds me of Billy Preston, the so-called “Fifth Beatle.” Okay, go pour through your theological texts and get back to me. And please, don’t wait up.)

“I shot a lawyer and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.”

The public probably received the closest replica of a mea culpa that will ever be delivered by Vice President Dick Cheney over his shooting in South Texas of bird hunting partner, Harry Whittingon, on Saturday.

Cheney appeared last evening for an interview on Fox News, big surprise there. During the interview he took responsibility for shooting his friend while hunting and said how the news was given to the press was handled correctly. Also, no big surprise.

I’m sure that die-hard fans and true believers of Dick Cheney and the Bush administration are probably bouncing off the walls with glee. In essence, Cheney told the media to get hosed, a sentiment that resonates with many Bush-Cheney supporters. I guess from that point of view maybe Cheney did the right thing for his side. But there comes a point in time where obstinacy and arrogance becomes just pure stupidity. One has to wonder if the vice president’s actions are the right ones for his party, coming from an administration that seems to keep shooting itself in the foot, metaphorically speaking. The problem for the Republican party is that the self-inflicted foot shooting has become closer to reality than metaphor.

I don’t care one way or the other. Entertainment is about the best we can expect out of Washington these days.

An astute observation made by my old friend Bruce of Collin County, Texas (Yes, THAT Bruce!):

“Cheney is NOT a heartbeat away from the presidency- he is a PACEMAKER
beat away. W could slide him past the ol’ microwave and fix all that in
a heartbeat… er, whatever.”

I’m putting my shotgun in the closet. I’d hate like hell to be Cheneyed.

Think about it. It might not be too long before you hear people saying this:

“Hey, watch it with that gun asshole. What are you trying to do, Cheney me?”

Being “Cheneyed” or “Don’t Cheney me” may be part of the language someday. It’s unfortunate enough that the vice (no comment) president shot his 78-year-old friend while hunting quail on a South Texas ranch. Now I hear the victim, Austin attorney Harry Whittington, suffered a heart attack from some of the birdshot that lodged in his heart. Damn. I guess being perceived as a modern-day Darth Vader when it comes to starting wars and endangering civil liberties isn’t enough for Dick Cheney. He must, honest-to-God, want to be another Aaron Burr. I wonder if a treason trial is in his future like Burr’s? It could happen, given the suspicions about his alleged role in the CIA leak case. It could happen when pigs fly in a frozen hell.

I was working this afternoon and didn’t have a chance to check out the latest news on the ‘net until I watched the network news on TV just a few minutes ago. That’s when I heard about Whittington having a heart attack because the vice president shot him. Damn, I leave the world an hour or so and the whole damn operation falls apart! This is pretty danged surreal.