snadblog

This summer, I’ve been teaching Jack how to catch a Frisbee (ok, technically not a Frisbee, but a soft flying disc for dogs). He took to it right away, and got the hang of it in no time. He likes it so much that he starts salivating the second I grab it from the shelf, and he’s intensely interested from then on. And as long as I can get a good throw for him, and the wind doesn’t interrupt, he can catch it quite easily.

Whenever he makes a good catch, he immediately comes over to me for his reward, which is a nice back/rump scratch. He really does know when he makes a good catch, and he gets excited to see me get so excited about it.

In the last week or so, he has started actually jumping up in the air to make the catch. Not a big deal for a typical dog, but when this big lug manages to gets airborne AND make the catch, I can’t help but be proud.

Today we finally got a killer grab on “tape”. Check it out here.

What percentage of the average population do you think can identify a German Shepherd Dog if they see one?  It’s got to be high, right?  Everybody knows a German Shepherds.  How could you not know?  They are police dogs, they are seeing eye dogs, they are family dogs, and they are security dogs.  They are in movies, on TV, in your neighbor’s yard. They are everywhere.  They are so common that it’s often a GSD picture you see on the “big dog” flea collar packages (just like beagles on the “medium dog” packages).

In fact, multiple online sources I’ve found that list the ten most popular registered dog breeds in the USA put German Shepherds at #3. They are the third most popular registered dog in the U.S., even ranking higher than poodles and beagles/labs (depending on the year)!

Now take a look at our dog, Jack. You can call him many things, from sweet to giant to smart to large, but one thing is unmistakable — he is a German Shepherd. He’s a pure-bred and an excellent example of his breed.

Ok, enough already. You get it. Everybody knows German Shepherds. Except here’s the thing… they don’t.

Dennis and I are constantly asked what kind of dog Jack is.  In the park, at the lake, or in the parking lot. Children, young adults, and older adults alike. More than half the people we encounter ask us a variation of “What kind of dog is that?” when they see him. How do they not know?

I remember once in the park when Jack and I were walking with Tabitha and her dog Sydney, who happens to be of a rarely-recognized breed. We walked past a girl about 10 years old and she stopped to pet Sydney and said, “Oh! Is this an Australian Blue Heeler?” We were surprised that she was able to correctly identify such an unusual breed. Then she looked at Jack and said, “And what kind of dog is he?”

Seriously?

And it happened again just this afternoon, when I went for a quick walk in the park with Jack. We passed a gray-haired man who was probably in his 50s, and he stopped me and asked, “What kind of dog is that?”

It floors me every time. Is it his size that throws people off? Or are people just somehow not aware of one of the most popular dog breeds out there? Theories welcome.

Over the last couple of months, there have been several times when I’ve realized that I no longer treat my Canon Rebel XT digital SLR with kid gloves. I don’t abuse it, but I don’t baby it like I used to. Part of this is because the newness has worn off enough for me to not worry about how much it cost, and part of it is just my growing comfort with the camera. I often remember how well I used to treat it, and laugh.

Serves me right.

I was working on a project on the kitchen table last night and had a large piece of material over most of the table. My camera was sitting on top of the material, because I had been taking pictures during the project. At one point I needed some table space, so I pushed the material aside, forgetting the camera was on top. Forgetting, that is, until I heard the loud SLAM of my camera hitting the tiled kitchen floor.

I rushed to pick up my beloved camera and was initially quite happy to see that it looked fine. It wasn’t smashed to bits like I thought it would be. Then I noticed that the outer ring of the lens didn’t quite seem straight. The camera appeared to have landed on the front edge of the lens, knocking the inner parts of the lens out of whack. There were no scratches or dents visible anywhere on the lens or camera, but the inner rube was now clearly crooked.

At first I was able to turn the zoom ring with extensive pressure, but now it won’t turn at all. The focus ring won’t turn either in automatic or manual mode. It’s toast. Well, unless I want to take pictures at the exact level of focus and zoom at which it’s currently locked.

Now on to the good news. This was just the kit lens, not my expensive macro lens. The camera body is still fine, and I’ve taken pictures since then and got them off the camera with no problems. In all, the damage was quite minor, especially given how badly things could’ve gone.

My next task is to buy a replacement lens, but as with anything having to do with photography, the choices are both awe-inspiring and wallet-clenching. I will most likely settle for the standard and affordable Canon EF-S 18-55mm f/3.5-5.6, although I spend significant time this morning agonizing and drooling over the Sigma AF 18-200mm f/3.5-6.3 DC OS. I’ll mull it over a bit before deciding what will be the best fit for me for now.

As a side note, there’s a “customer image” that has been uploaded for the 18-55 that looks so much like Jack that it totally freaked me out when I saw it. Even Dennis thought it was our dog when I showed him. You can check it out here. Crazy!

When our dogs Max and Jammet both died within a year of each other, Emily was on either side of being two years old. We weren’t sure if she would notice their absence or not, so Shanon and Mike decided we would play it by ear and see how it went. Even though Emily had known the dogs well, days and months came and went without her ever noticing or saying a word about it. We were all a bit surprised but content with the lack of drama. She was simply too young to notice.

Over the next year or two, there were times when she’d seen photos of the dogs around the house. She would mostly pay them no mind, but occasionally would tell us that the pictures of Jammet were actually pictures of Hershey (their chocolate lab) when she was a puppy, and pictures of Max were actually pictures of Jack (both of whom are German shepherds) when he was younger. Good enough for her, good enough for us.

Then a couple days ago, I was in my office with Emily. I had my back to the desk and Emily could see behind me, and this was her view:

She suddenly spotted something that caught her eye and she tilted her head a little and said “Chica? Is that… uh… Max?”

Oh, the thoughts that started running through my head! Shanon and I had discussed this before and I knew I could answer questions if it came up, but should I? Should I wait for Shanon or Mike? What made Emily remember Max now, after all this time? Would she understand if I explained? Would she get upset?

I finally decided to go for it. If she can summon that memory up, I’ll meet her halfway and talk about it. I said “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Then she put her hand on top of her head made motions and and thoughtfully said, “What is that… sticking up from the head?”

I was sure she meant Max’s giant ears, so I said “Those are his ears”.

She said “But what is that for?”

That seemed like an odd question, and I was a little confused at this point, but I said “It’s just a picture.”

Then she looked me in the eye, pointed at the shelf, and said, “No, Chica. That! The MASK!”

I laughed with relief and pulled down the colorful Mardi Gras mask that was on top of the shelf, a foot away from the picture. The one with the crazy feathers that stick up from the top of your head. She was delighted to be able to play with it, and had no idea what I was even talking about with the dog. Crisis averted.

Sigh… kids!

Like many little girls, Emily has been quite fascinated with kittycats for a long time. For months she has been asking for a kitten, and even comes up with great solutions for her Mom and Dad on how to make it work. Her best one yet went something like this:

  Emily: I think we need a kitty
  Shanon: But what about the dog?  What if Hershey doesn't like kitties?
  Emily: We don't need a DOG if we have a CAT, Mommy!
  Shanon: Well, what are we going to do with the dog, then?
  Emily: Hmm... let's give her to Miss Tabitha!

Well, Emily doesn’t realize it yet (and thank goodness she can’t read, or else I’d be in trouble), but she is getting a kitten this weekend for her 4th birthday present. The actual purchase of the kitty had a couple of potential roadblocks to consider, though.

Take, for example, the fact that any kitty rescued from the Humane Society (even those displayed at PetSmart) will be subject to an immediate spay/neuter procedure. However, those surgeries are often not done until after the animal has been adopted, so imagine what it would be like to take a little kid to pick out a new kitty and then have the nice lady at the store tells you that you can’t actually take the cat home until the next day. Oh, and when you get her the next day, she feels bad and can’t play. A four-year-old isn’t gonna take to that news very well.

Now consider what happens if you take your kid to the store to pick out a kitty and they don’t have any (or any she likes). I know kittens are plentiful, but you never know what’s available on a given day. You have to plan ahead (and not make any promises) to be sure to get the right kitten.

So Shanon and Mike took Emily to PetSmart on Saturday (a week before her birthday) to look at kittens. Emily enjoyed the trip and held six different ones, and oohed and ahhed over each of them. But when she held one particular little black and white 8-week-old darling in her arms, her eyes got wide and she was instantly in love. Hardly a word came from her mouth, but Mike and Shanon knew this was the kitten Emily needed to have.

Then, in order to avoid the issues I described, Mike took Emily home and Shanon stayed behind to secretly buy the kitten. Then she brought her to my house, where I have the good fortune of being able to keep her for a week while we wait for Emily’s birthday to arrive. Emily will be getting the kitten on Friday, just in time to enjoy her during the long weekend of no school.

I am thoroughly enjoying having this as-yet-unnamed kitten is at my house, and she is an absolutel doll. It has been a couple days now and she is no longer feeling bad from surgery, and is bounding all over the place when given the chance. In addition, she is no longer afraid of Jack (who adores her). Hopefully she’ll carry that trust of dogs with her when she returns home and meets Hershey.

Jack is fascinated with the kitten and whenever she is on the floor, he will lie still and let her sniff him and play with his feet. As soon as she hides behind a couch, though, he darts up to see where she went, and is anxious until she comes back into sight. Except for play time, we keep her in Jack’s enormous crate, where she has plenty of room to run, sleep, and play and I don’t have to worry about what she’s into.  She is eating well and using her litter box like a pro.

I’m seriously loving this. All the fun of having a kitten without having to worry about owning a cat. That is totally that way to go!