Bones Would Rain From the Sky by Suzanne Clothier

Well, lookee here: Books and dogs.

An old Turkish proverb says that if a dog's prayers were answered, bones would rain from the sky. Subtitled Deepening Our Relationships With Dogs, Clothier expects that if we pay more attention to our furred friends, we can interpret their feelings and emotional states, achieving our training ends more easily and with the cooperation of our dogs.

Clothier, although she never calls herself that, is truly a dog whisperer. She can intuit a dog's logic and state of mind and form fast friendships sooner than we can say, "Fetch"!

Since I hardly know my own mind (something that she points out in the book) nor is my life my animals (besides umpteen dogs, Clothier and her husband farm cattle, goats, chickens, pigs and other critters), it is unlikely that I will be a star pupil. Still, I found the book useful.

The first half and the last quarter are mostly an account of Clothier's philosophy; Bones is not meant to train the trainer. The middle section, though, does have fairly concrete examples of some of her experiences with "aggressive" dogs. Between the examples and the philosophy, she gives the ordinary owner something to strive for. And she can be very amusing.

I would recommend that anyone with a dog read this, preferably before you are, again, seized with the urge to shout or, worse, hit. Not only will your dog make more sense to you, you will make much more sense to your dog.

Posted by Margot at 11:06 AM

March by Geraldine Brooks

A brilliant novel about Mr. March, the father of Louisa May Alcott's Little Women. March is a dreamer and idealist thrust into the brutal action of the Civil War. As the year unfolds, he writes loving letters to his family while shielding them -- but not us -- from the worst of his war experiences. To himself and us, ruminates on his early life and shares his moral concerns.

The book would be a great story even without the Little Women connection, but it does manage to flesh out the character of Marmee who, as Brooks' mother noted, was too good to be true in the original. The other characters are there, too, the little women, Laurie, the neighbour boy and his tutor Mr. Brooks, Aunt March and others, peripheral to the story, but bringing a pleasing sense of recognition, something like greeting old, childhood friends.

March is based on Bronson Alcott and, in his reminisces we meet the New England intelligentsia/abolitionist community, the Thoreaus and the Emersons, encounter passengers on the UnderGround Railroad and get taken in by John Brown's schemes.

Did you know that Henry Thoreau invented an improved pencil? And I had certainly never heard of "contraband," slaves who came under Union control and fought for the Union or worked the plantations for pay under Northern lessees. I love novels like this, where you can trust the history because what isn't true is set out by the author.

And somehow it pleases me to find the Brooks is married to Tony Horwitz, author of Confederates in the Attic and Blue Latitudes, and one of my favourite writers.

Facing the Wind by Julie Salamon

This is the story of a murder, a club for mothers of handicapped children, and a love story.

From the back cover:

Bob Rowe and his wife Mary worked hard to build their American dream. A suburban home, barbecues in the summer, and a fast track corporate job made their life look ideal to outsiders. Yet they faced one of the most difficult challenges for a couple: their son Christopher was born severely handicapped and disabled. As a family, they managed to navigate through the tough times by being hands-on parents. Their efforts were emboldened by a group of extraordinary women - all of whom also had disabled children - who acted as a support system for one another.

Then, one day, Bob killed first the three children and then Mary.

I found this book gave me real insight into a state of mind that could lead someone to kill his family "out of love." It also made "temporary insanity" something more than a legal plea.

I find it strange that not one reviewer was struck by what surely must have been the effects on Rowe of his driven nature and his harridan, carping mother. From a young age, Rowe was determined to be successful in his career, to achieve middle-class status, and have a storybook home and family. With perseverance and focus, he achieved his goals. He must have been a breakdown waiting to happen even before the trauma of dealing with one sick child and one severely handicapped child began to pile on more pressure. Adding public role model and a job crisis not of his own making to the stew, it could only have been a matter of time, And, unfortunately, it was.

Just Say No!

You'll see that I have a new banner at the top of the page. Please click on it. You can see some great photos and videos and easily make one yourself to send to your legislators.

Thank you.

253 by Geoff Ryman

The book began life as an internet novel. 253 people on a Bakerloo line tube train heading toward Waterloo. 253 words describing each passenger: their outward appearance; inside information; what they are doing and thinking. The train will crash.

A clever book and well-written and I read half of it before I tired of it. It's a bit like sitting on a train, yourself, making up identities and thoughts for your fellow passengers, if you have an inventive mind. But the train should have been shorter.

Another minority report.

Eric by Terry Pratchett

Faust, uh, Eric is the Discworld's only demonology hacker. He manages to summon up Rincewind, the most incompetent wizard in the universe, along with The Luggage, the most faithful -- and scariest -- suitcase in literature. In an effort to fulfill Eric's three wishes -- to be immortal, rule the world, have the most beautiful woman in the world (the usual) -- their adventures take them on a journey through time and space.

Maybe not quite as good as some of the Discworld novels, but, in the Discworld, the adventure is not in the adventure; it's in Pratchett's knowledge of just about everything and the way he plays with it. A good ride through Faust, time travel and the big "bang." And other stuff.

Bath Time

I'm into my fifteenth year as a "dog" owner and I have only recently come to bath time. If you've been following my posts, you will know that we chose to have Chows because we didn't want a dog. One of the things that makes Chows non-dogs is that they don't have D.O.* so you don't have to bathe them.

We used to bathe Io Jima once a year at the end of the river season, but it wouldn't have been necessary if we hadn't been foolish enough to teach her to swim. Our current two Chows arrived river-ready straight from the factory, but we avoided the bath chore by occasionally taking the shampoo with us to our daily paddle.

Now it turns out that Nala has allergies. (Actually there is very little that Nala doesn't have.) First she had (has) seborrhoea. We gave her a bath with a special shampoo and started her on zinc supplements. That worked for awhile.

In the past few months, though, she has been scratching to the point where most of the fur around her shoulders and back end is gone. This is not an attractive look in a Chow. She's probably allergic to fleas, said the vet. (Like owner, like Chow.) And maybe other things.

Allergies may initially produce no reaction, but as they accumulate, they reach critical mass and the immune system can no longer cope. Allergies, seborrhoea, fleas and now system overload has given rise to a yeast infection known as elephant skin.

Malessezia Dermatitis. (Another learning experience. Nala is our Dog University.) The skin turns thick, black and bumpy. And there are hot spots (red, itchy spots; I didn't used to know what they are, either). I didn't notice for close on a year because I am accustomed to dogs with black skin. Io Jima, who was black, had black skin. All Chows have black tongues and gums; I thought black skin came with. Not for red Chows, evidently.

So, cutting to the chase, we (I) have to bathe her twice a week for a month and then once a week after that. Nala likes going in the river. Nala does not like having a bath.

Normally I attach an old flex-lead to her collar, lock the lead, throw the handle into the car and shut the door on the lead. Then she's stuck and has to have her bath. But it's too cold for that now, so she has to be bathed inside.

Fortunately, I do weight training as it takes the power of 10 to move Nala into the shower pan and keep her there. After she, the bathroom, and I are all lathered up, I rinse me and go downstairs to rest up while she marinates for 10 minutes. Then I go back upstairs and we do the push/shove/oof routine, again, so she can be rinsed.

Then she gets half dried and can come downstairs and sit next to the fire. She gets cold and shivers. At least, I think she's cold; she could be having a dream about baths. But we got this nice blanket for Christmas, so we're not expecting pneumonia as an extra added attraction.

Chow owners are not supposed to have to put up with this sort of thing. If I'd wanted a dog, I'd have got one. Where's my drink?

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* Doggy Odor