On, On, U of K

I like to watch college basketball, men and women's, although I don't watch too much of either anymore. But I remain a huge fan of the University of Kentucky men's basketball team.

However, I didn't go to U of Ky - I went to Western Kentucky University.

I loved my time at WKU - it's a time that is very precious to me. It made me who I am. I cherish it. But I remain a huge fan of U of Ky rather than WKU when it comes to men's basketball, and during March Madness, you can imagine what many of my Facebook posts are about.

A few people have found it strange that I can be an alumnus of one university but be such a fan of another university's basketball team. This is a question from a Facebook friend this week:

I know you're going to dislike me when I ask this (but I'm just like this ) why did you go to WKU?? blahblah

She claims she wasn't serious in the question... but to be honest, I'm getting tired of criticisms like this. So I'm going to answer it here, once and for all.

I had no burning desire to be a Hilltopper. None. I couldn't go where I wanted to go: Purdue, which had the literary program I was so dying to be a part of. I got accepted at Purdue, I visited the campus, I went through the catalogue picking my first semester of classes - but there was no way I could afford it. For a few weeks after I realized I couldn't go, I made up my mind to move to California, work for a year, get state residency, and then go to university there - but the person I was going to do that with backed out. So I turned my attention to in-state schools.

Of the in-state public universities, WKU had the best journalism program - nationally renowned, in fact - and I thought that would be my best bet to become a better writer. My friend with whom I had planned to go to California also was going to WKU, and convinced me it was where I should go too. A friend of the family finagled a small scholarship for me my freshman year, and along with another small scholarship I got with the help of the student guidance counselor, plus money from my paternal grandparents, I was able to afford the first year's tuition. After that, I had to work part time in the school year and full-time (and then some) in the summer to pay for each year.

I enjoyed my time at WKU, I really did. So many people that were my friends at WKU are still my friends now, and I appreciate so much all of the students and teachers that I encountered there, and how they helped me. I didn't follow sports when I was at WKU; I was too busy studying,working, enjoying the theatre and dance department, enjoying the social scene and having my heart broken repeatedly, although I did go to a couple of WKU football games - so I could see the performance of the visiting marching bands from two schools famous for such. When I wear my WKU gear, it's with my time there and friends from there in mind, and I really like taking photos of me wearing such in places like Chornobyl and Wyoming and Louisville baseball games and what not, because it's just not something you see much of - someone with a WKU shirt in Ukraine.

But WKU didn't give me anything; I paid for that time there. I owe WKU nada in regard to anything I got from there. I also never felt a particular WKU culture, one that was unique or particularly special among other colleges in the state. When I told people I went to WKU, the thing they might know about it was the journalism program - the other thing they might know about it is that the band Government Cheese was based there. Now, years later, it's rare that I get a comment about either of those things when people see me in a WKU t-shirt. 

I also want to note that WKU hasn't been great to me post-graduation. I donated to WKU every year after graduation for many years, because it was my university, and I thought that's what one did. But when I applied for graduate school, I needed certain paperwork from them. Their web site at the time (2002) was really unclear on how to get it. Long story short, after several emails, I ended up having to call, from Germany, at a time when long distance calls were stupid expensive, and the head of the WKU office  in charge of student records was AWFUL - she said that "we don't have time to answer emails" and said that this "whole web thing is so new" (by then, it was about 20 years old) and on and on. I did eventually get the records I needed, but I also wrote and snail mailed complaint letters to about five different people at WKU. Not one of them responded. Not. One. It's still left a really bad taste in my mouth. Plus, WKU doesn't really have much in terms of services for alumni - I'd love to network with other WKU graduates who are in similar work to me, I'd love to offer myself as a resource to WKU students that want to work in nonprofits or international humanitarian aid and development, but every offer I've made regarding that has been ignored by every WKU admin or faculty member I've written. I give up!

By contrast, my love of U of KY basketball is something deep and very emotional. It's one of the few positive things my family did together: watch Kentucky basketball games and talk about the games and players. Growing up, Kentucky basketball was something to celebrate and bond over with neighbors and students and anyone you encountered with a UK t-shirt out-of-state. I have so many wonderful memories of watching games with friends and family - amid not-so-great memories. When I was a kid, Kentucky games were the events I could count on where my family would all have fun and want to be together. I can remember my mother telling me about players and great games from years before I was born, with a sense of awe and pride. I can remember where I was during so many pivotal games over the years. There is just nothing like the emotional roller coaster of following U of Ky over a season! I also have so enjoyed when I'm wearing a U of KY t-shirt and someone comes up to me to say something, positive or negative - that t-shirt means something, either good or bad, all over the USA - and beyond.

And I apologize to Kyle Macy for bothering the hell out of him when he came to Henderson to sign autographs when I was about 14 or so, but that's another story...

Kentucky is the butt of so many jokes all over the USA. It's perfectly acceptable to say that you think all people from Kentucky are uneducated, stupid, racist, violent, unclean, and on and on - no one is going to say, "What an awful stereotype! How rude!" Sometimes I can have a sense of humor about the Kentucky jokes, and often, I can join in regarding a lot of the criticisms of the state - that we have a state-supported Creation Museum makes me so ashamed, as does our teen pregnancy rate, our prescription drug use rate, the condition of dogs and cats in the state, and on and on. But, often, the comments and stereotyping really, really hurt. Kentucky is a beautiful state, one I'm proud to be from, one I've loved showing off to people when I can get them to visit me there. Kentucky's national park, its national forest, its national historic sites, its state parks, Louisville, Frankfurt, Bardstown, my home town of Henderson - there are a lot of lovely, interesting places in Kentucky. Our music is amazing. Our food is amazing. And our love of live performance is amazing. I've been all over the world, to more than 30 countries, and I can tell you that Kentucky is special and wonderful, it really is. When I'm wearing a shirt with "Kentucky" in big, blue letters, I'm thinking about my state even more than I am my beloved basketball team. I'm proud of both.

So, yes, I went to one university, but I celebrate the basketball program of another's. Don't get it? Well, it's a Kentucky thing. You just don't understand.

On, On, U of K!

February Lucinda the dog update

We've had Lucinda the dog eight weeks now. It's so wonderful, so comforting, so normal, to have a dog at home again. It's brought back so many memories of Buster, Wiley and Albi when they each first came into my life.

Lucy is less skittish with strangers, so much so that people have thought she's grown. One person said to me today, "My goodness, she's twice the size she was when I last saw her!" Um... no. She's gained less than two pounds since we first weighed her on Jan. 3 at PetSmart. I took her to the vet one day just for her to go inside and meet everyone, so her first visit wouldn't involve anything but friendly people and dog treats. When we took her back, along with Max the Cat (he needed his boosters), she handled being chipped like it was no big thing at ALL.

She walks on a leash incredibly well now, and I've trained with her every day - she knows sit, down, and stay from both positions, and I'm working on "go to your bed". But she just does not understand "come" when we are inside the house or in the yard. At the dog park or when she's walking on a leash - yes, she totally gets it, and it's really wonderful to call her name at the dog park and have her bound toward you and lean up against you as you tell her what a good girl she is. Inside our house and in the yard, I use the most delicious dog treats possible, but she will only "come" in the house or in the yard if we are in the middle of a training session - try it when you are on one side of the house and she's on the other, and she'll just stare at you.

But, sadly, we've had a setback regarding trust. Lucy is a bit more skittish, and seems a bit depressed. And I think it all goes back to our horrible scare with her about three weeks ago.

If you are friends with me on Facebook, you know that we had a horrible scare with Lucy on January 29: around 2:30 that day, after Lucy and I had finished our B Street Trail walk and were two blocks from home on 18th, I fell and lost my grip on the leash. As soon as I hit the ground, Lucy BOLTED. She FLEW down 18th street, her leash dragging behind her, making a loud noise because of the plastic holder for her poop bags banging against the sidewalk and street. I couldn't even begin to catch her as she bolted away from me. She ran two blocks as fast as she could, almost getting hit by a car, then I saw her in the distance turn the corner of where we live, on Birch and 18th. And then she was gone. An hour later, EVERY person in Forest Grove with a dog was out looking for her. Neighbors went out in their cars looking for her. I called Stefan at work. He came home and joined the search. I stood in front of the house, looking, calling, crying LOTS, making a general spectacle of myself. I searched under bushes, in nooks and crannies all around our house and the neighbors. Nothing. Crazy reports came in on the Facebook Forest Grove community of sightings as far away as Cornelius - and poor Stefan drove to every one of them, no matter how crazy.

More than four hours later, night had fallen, and temperatures were dropping - it would freeze that night, or come close. I was imagining the worst, and thought, if we don't find her, this is one of the worst days of my life. Stefan and I decided to go on the route of our usual morning walk, backwards, calling for her. About 45 minutes later, we got back to the house and Stefan heard something rustling in the neighbor's yard next to our fence. It was Lucinda. She' hadn't been there or near there until then, as I'd looked there thoroughly earlier. We think that by going out and calling, she heard us from wherever she was hiding somewhere on the block and came home. She bolted away from us when Stefan approached, but stopped in the front grass, sat, and eyed me with a side, terrified glance. I had to approach slowly, with a raw hide, and I talked and talked. She dropped down on her belly, but was ready to run. I stopped before I got too close and she would bolt again. Finally, she crawled tentatively came forward for the rawhide. She was shaking uncontrollably. Still wearing her collar and leash - the sound of it dragging behind her had contributed to her panic. I held her and wept. Stefan came up and held her too. We brought her inside - both her and her leash wet all over. I fainted shortly after we got her inside - everything just kinda went gray and fuzzy. I think Stefan thought I was kidding. I'm just glad I didn't hit anything on the way down.

Everyone in Forest Grove was awesome. Beyond awesome. I cannot believe how many people went out with their own dogs or cars just to look for our dog! I think she would have come home sooner had the Methodist Church playground not been packed for an hour with screaming kids - she does not like groups of children (she's fine with one or two).

Since then, she's progressed well on training and walking on leash, but we've gone a bit backwards in terms of trust, and that really breaks my heart. When it's time to walk, each morning, afternoon and evening, she cowers and crawls under the futon couch and won't come out, no matter what awesome treat I offer her. I have to put the retractable leash on her when she isn't under the couch and isn't expecting it, and then she'll go on a walk just fine - no cowering at all. She rarely pulls now. But she also rarely sleeps with us in the bedroom anymore, on her bed next to mine. Instead, she sleeps in her crate, getting up in the night to let me know when it's time for a pee break (anytime between 2 and 4 a.m.) - and then she is happy to be put on leash.

She's been to a private dog training class, and she will begin group classes in March. And I'm doing all I can to rebuild our trust: I lay in the floor with her whenever she's outside her crate, and pull her into my lap sometimes - she loves to be held. The best days are always when she can visit the dog park, or have a dog over to play in the back yard - all her inhibitions melt away, and after we get back home, she's happy and content. I would LOVE to get another dog - I think it would help her tremendously. But that's a while a way - we've got things to work on until then.

More:

What I’ve learned about Lucinda

The meaning of noises

We Love Lucy

When I get "unfriended"

I’m not hurt by those that unfollow me on Facebook. But I am hurt when people unfriend me. I admit it.

I have two FB accounts. This is strictly forbidden by FB, and if I get caught, FB will delete one of the accounts. But because of my work, this is how it must be. What a shame that Facebook doesn't make adding friends to different lists, and posting only to certain lists, as easy as GooglePlus.

I’ve unfollowed a LOT of my Facebook friends on my personal account, for various reasons: I don't like their constant posting of prayer requests, petitions, memes, right-wing politics... if you post more of these than posts about your family, what you're doing, or what you've done, I'll probably unfollow you. But I won't unfriend you. These folks are still my friends, on FB and off. By unfollowing, while I don’t get their updates in my newsfeed anymore, I can still go look at their FB pages and see what they’re up to if I’m so inclined.

I’m also not offended by those that chose to follow me on my milquetoast, never-controversial “pro” FB account, rather than what I consider my "real me" one - that pro account is for professional colleagues and those that I think are too wimpy for the real me. At least, if you choose that account to friend instead of the real me, you still want to be connected in some way.

I know I can be overwhelming on my personal FB. But it's the real “me” most people never get to see. This very real “me” is reserved for people who I like or, at least, used to like at some point in my life. When you unfriend me, without a word of why, it hurts. And it makes me not want to be around you offline.

So, yeah, if I'm overwhelming you, unfollow me. If you unfriend me, I'll take it as a statement you don't want to be offline either. And if that's what you intend, well, okay then.

Oh, and if I do unfriend you - yeah, I’m PISSED OFF. And have probably told you explicitly why. Unfriending isn't a casual thing with me - it's quite deliberate.

What I’ve learned about Lucinda

What I’ve learned about Lucinda (Lucy), the dog we've had for about two weeks now:

• She does not like garbage day, because she’s scared of the bins. She thinks they are daleks, about to come alive at any moment and chase her. 
• She’s hungry. 
• She’s getting up every day at 5 a.m. for a quick stop outside, then will sleep until breakfast and her real walk at 8:30 a.m.
• She wants to chase cats - just to smell their butts.
• She loves all other dogs. 
• She’s hungry.  
• She no longer fears moving cars, but the UPS truck is still evil. 
• She doesn’t like anyone in a bulky jacket.
• She doesn't understand the word "come" when we're in the back yard, and most of the time in the house, but does understand it at the dog park and most other places away-from-home.
• She’s hungry. 
• She WILL get that laser point moving rapidly across the floor some day. SHE WILL. 
• She loves Stefan when he’s wearing jeans or sweatpants and a work shirt or sweat shirt, but she hates his evil twin, the one in the firefighter uniform that shows up some time, when Good Stefan is not around.
• She’s hungry.  

The meaning of noises

You make so many noises a day, and you have no idea that they betray your intentions... until you get a dog.

Dogs aren't psychic. They are, rather, just so much smarter than most people think they are. You betray so much about what you are thinking or what you are about to do based on how you move, what you do, and the noises you make - and dogs see all of it and put it together to know what you're about to do.

Lucy the dog has already figured out that the sound of the sliding door from the kitchen to the utility room means either Stefan is coming in or she's about to go for a walk. She knows the TV or radio being on means I'm not going anywhere, but when it's off, it means I'm leaving - and she hopes I'll be taking her with me. She knows when I go out the front or back door that I'll be back within seconds, but if I go out of the side door, I might be gone for a while, and she's therefore more upset about it. After yesterday, I'm guessing she now knows that the vacuum cleaner means company is coming.

I delighted in realizing what Buster, Wiley and Albi each had figured out about me based on noises. It's so much fun to get to go through that again.

Gray Max the cat, by the way, knows that when he hears the sliding door, it means, RUN, THE GUY THAT DOESN'T LIKE ME IS HOME!

Animals in my house. Oh, it's just been too long.

We Love Lucy

After eight dog-less months, we have restored order to the universe and have a canine again in the house. Her name is Lucinda - Lucy for short. Our house is a home again.

She's a year and a month old, and is originally from a beach in Baja California, Mexico. She ended up with All Terrier Rescue (which doesn't rescue just terriers anymore), here in Oregon. The organization partners with a shelter in Baja, Mexico and another in California, to bring dogs from those shelters to Oregon, with the help of Alaska Airlines and various volunteer drivers. All Terrier Rescue shows the dogs they have available for adoption on Thursdays, 4-7 p.m. and Saturdays, 11-5 p.m., at Petsmart in the Washington Square shopping center on Cascade Ave in Beaverton. Her name, "Lucy," is computer-generated, and she is listed as "Baja Lucy" on her paperwork. We liked the name Lucy, so she's keeping it - but I decided it was short for "Lucinda."

It's been a long wait for our new girl. We were both devastated to lose our Albi, but our sorry at losing her wasn't what kept us waiting this long to adopt another dog; it was our travel plans. Stefan was ready to start looking earlier than I was, back in July, but because we had travel plans to Germany in October, I decided I wanted to wait until after we got back from that trip to start looking. And we lucked out at making that choice, because work suddenly sent me out of the country for most of August and September as well, and I wasn't back in the USA, for the rest of 2014, until mid November. It would have been horrible to adopt a dog and then abandon him or her for so long.

Starting in November, Stefan and I began trolling Craigslist for possible additions to our family, but people I wrote didn't write me back, or dogs were adopted before we could even see one. I looked at the web sites of various shelters in and around Portland, but so many put their pets on PetFinder, an extremely hard-to-use web site (hard to find animals just in your area, search results are often incorrect, etc.), or the photos of the dogs they had on their own web sites didn't really tell me anything about the dog, and the descriptions of the dogs were scant regarding any insights to what the dogs were like.

After a month of searching this way, I realized we were going to have to see a lot of dogs in one location to find our dog. We needed to meet dogs, look into their eyes, talk to them, and have them talk to us, in their own way.

Somehow, I figured out that Petsmart in Beaverton had dog showings twice a week from a shelter in Aloha. And so, on December 27, 2014, we walked in to the pet store, and I promptly fell in love with every dog there. I wanted them all. The rescue organization puts most of the dogs together in a large open kennel, so you can see how they interact with each other, and I was glad to see how wonderfully socialized they were. You are encouraged to take any dog for a walk around the building.

We took one dog on a walk, and he was gorgeous and fun, but so incredibly full of energy, and the volunteers kept saying, "He'll be great for someone who jogs! He's great for people with an active lifestyle!", and I'm thinking, yeah, we don't jog... we both really liked him, but his strength and energy were... a lot. I knew we'd be overwhelmed. Maybe even frustrated. So I suggested we walk another dog: Lucy had caught my eye as soon as we walked in - she was in a create by herself, because most of the other dogs hadn't arrived yet, and she was calmly chewing on a raw hide, uninterested in us. She was put in the bigger kennel once the other dogs had arrived, and she seemed quite overwhelmed by them all. She was super timid. The volunteer I talked to had taken her home recently, and said she did well with other dogs and cats, loved to play, was skittish, and oh-so-sweet. We took her on a walk, and she pulled the leash almost as much as the first dog had. But there was something about her... I liked her. A lot.

We decided we'd foster Lucy for a week. And I promised Stefan I would be more reserved than I'd been when I took Albi home originally, to foster for just one night, and had broken into tears after an hour and said I was keeping her. I would proceed with caution this time, emotionally-speaking.

I tried, I really did... This time, I knew when she slept through both the first and second night that I couldn't give her up. So - I made it 48 hours!

I introduced her to Gray Max the Cat as soon as he showed up that first evening. He ran to the door and wailed. After a day of letting him in then right back out, I kept him in with us, no matter the wailing. It lasted 20 minutes. I kept him in for two hours that first time, and it convinced him he could come in with her and not fear being eaten. But it's taken a week of these forced stays to get him to calm down to his old self when inside. Gray Max now tolerates Lucinda and doesn't completely freak out that she's here. But he still won't sleep overnight inside. We didn't let Lucy into the backyard for a week, so he could continue to feel absolutely safe and dog-free there. I'm going to continue to work on him. We have a cat tree condo arriving in another week that will give him a place high up to sleep and hang out and feel safe inside.


Because of the holidays, Stefan had to work only two full days and two half days for Lucy's first week - in other words, he's been here far more than not for her this first week. As a result, she not only got to get to know him too, we got to take her to the dog park three times, go on a lot of walks, and she's even have some play time with just Stefan in the back yard. In one week, she's gone from a dog terrified of all cars, trucks, and any kind of machine, to a dog really happy to be walking alongside of us, cars or not. But she's still rather easily overwhelmed -- she doesn't like people to come right up to her to quickly, and she doesn't like more than two or three people around. She is terrified of Stefan in his firefighter's uniform - we'll have to work on that.

One week after we met her, we drove her to PetSmart to finish her paperwork. I'm glad we brought her, even though we didn't know if we were supposed to: the rescue organization has to see that she has her own collar, and that you have had a tag made for her with her name and your phone number, and attached it to the collar, before they hand over a dog's paperwork. She was really scared to get out of the car - I'm not sure if it was just being in a parking lot, which is always unpleasant for a dog, or all the people, or going to the place she'd been before us. We went inside, and finally tracked down the volunteer to help us finalize her adoption. I asked a bit more about her, and we both went into major, but quiet, panic when we were told she's actually younger than we thought: she's about eight months old. And we don't know her breed mixes. TO THE GOOGLE!! According to what I've read, any dog at six months, no matter the breed, is at least 75% of its full height. And studies have indicated that a small or medium breed puppy reaches 99% of its adult weight somewhere between nine -10 months. She weighs 38.8 pounds. She shouldn't get to 50 pounds. But we're keeping her, no matter what size she gets.

While still at PetSmart, we met a couple that adopted her sister! Lucy's sister is a bit smaller, and much darker - they showed us her photos on their smart phones. I would have had to adopt them both - I never could have separated them.

So, I've had four dogs since 1990. All were "rejects" - unwanted by their original owners or never owned by anyone. The first, Buster, was from Massachusetts and the second, Wiley, was from Missouri, and they not only went to more states that most people from the USA, they also went to Germany. The third, Albi, was from Hungary, also went to Germany, and also visited more states that most people from the USA. And now, the fourth, Lucinda, is from Mexico. We like our dogs international! Lucinda is our second female dog, and the youngest dog I've ever had.


Please consider welcoming a dog or cat into your life. Visit area shelters and local pet stores that host dogs and cats from shelters and rescue groups. And PLEASE spay or neuter your pets! If you want to donate money, give such to the nearest shelter to you, and/or to the wonderful Mayhew International, which I got to know in Kabul, Afghanistan - they not only help spay and neuter dogs in several countries, they also host classes for communities in those countries, like Romania, to help change attitudes about stray animals.

I'll do my best to keep adorable stories about Lucinda to a minimum on Facebook and in conversations, because I know how those can drive everyone crazy. But I make no promises to keep such to a minimum here on this blog! I'm looking forward to many, many stories... I'm already thinking about our first camping trip!

My 2014 summarized in a photo

I have already offered a written summary of my 2014. Here is how I felt many times in 2014, summarized in a photo by a friend of a friend: