July 2nd, 2007

I planned to take full advantage of this coffee shop's new wireless link. Windows XP is usually pretty easy for that: It finds the network, it configures a connection, it connects you. And off you go.

Well, mostly.

If something goes wrong you are completely hooped up the sphincter, and you better just hope that you have easy access to a good user manual or a networking expert (or both). But, in absence of either, you probably end up like me: You change this setting, reboot, change another setting, reboot, change three more settings, curse, reboot, curse, curse curse. Then give up.

Such is my fate today. So I write my rant without aid of a network connection, which means I will have to upload it just as soon as I get within range of a network that my copy of Windows likes ... which may be never now, considering the way I've changed every possible network and wireless configuration setting there is ...

Oh well.

* * *

Right, anyhow, the thing that has been on my mind lately is my sister's new dog. It's a Personal Assistance Dog (PAD for short), and this is one beautiful special intelligent extraordinarily well-behaved canine friend. I mean, a real sweety :-) My sister needs this dog for assistance toting and fetching, and opening/closing doors, etc. This dog will also alert someone if Billy falls in the well. (Well, she will go alert my mother if my sister has "fallen and [she] can't get up.")

I was "tasked" with brushing her teeth yesterday, and though I love animals, and have a lot more patience for them than I do for most humans (see, the animals don't know any better, and they generally behave better anyhow), I was a little worried about "breaking" my sister's new dog. After all, the BC taxpayer is in the hole $35K (or whatever) for this dog, and I'd hate to hurt the sweet dear little thing—and, in the process, get told by the Ministry of Torture, "You break, you buy, buster!"

But the PAD was just a doll about it: She obviously knew what was coming, and she settled down and opened wide for the toothbrush. It was a breeze to get her teeth all shiny and clean. And she enjoyed it too, though you can probably credit the beef-liver-flavoured toothpaste more than my tooth-brushing skills for that :-)

It's a disgusting thought, and normally I avoid such cheap shots at attempted humour [he lied], but: That doggie toothpaste smelled as though it would have been delicious on crackers with maybe a pimento, or a sprig of parsley.

Well, whatever the case, the tooth-brushing was a complete success, very easy for both of us, and quick. I let her chew the brush a bit afterwards, since that is clearly a reward she has been conditioned to accept for behaving well through the tooth-brushing process.

I'd like to say that it was a bonding moment between human and dog, but it wasn't: The dog must be beholden to my sister alone, and not be friendly with everyone else. So I treated it as businesslike as possible. Beautifully, so did the dog—and probably for the same reasons. I don't need a dog to carry my crap around after me, and I don't need doors opened or emergency rescue called for me, so I'll probably never befriend a dog quite like my sister's. That's too bad.

Frankly, I'm a touch jealous.

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