Tired....

Had a pretty long day, but I'm glad none of it was real work. I didn't have to fill out any meeting minutes, or meet with teachers, or do some bullshit paperwork. In the morning, I headed out early and brought Gilbey with me. I went to San Ramon, way up in the cuts, and scoped out a Golf Course with a creek in it as a possible field trip site. It was a beautifully well-done community, if you like that cookie cutter suburban crap. I even passed by the model homes, and got a price listing.....$1.2-1.8 million bucks. What a waste of money. As you could imagine, the school that I'm working with gets a lot of property tax money, so they are really well off. Gilbey and I walked along the border of the golf course, scoping out possible places, but the creek looked overgrown and really, who would want a group of 30 kids screaming at the top of their lungs while they're in their backswing? God, I hate golfers. Bunch of pretentious, pompous pussies. I love alliteration, though. Punk asses. Prostate-cancer having penises. Pencil dicks. Porn-watching, popcorn-eating pontificators. Alright, I'm reaching.

So I give Canyon Lakes Golf Course a call, and the director told me in no uncertain terms, "No." Just as a I figured. Next time I go to the school, I'm gonna drop by the golf course and lay a crap on the 18th tee. Then I'm gonna piss in each hole, so that said pee gets all over the fingers of all the golfers who pick up their balls. Huh-uh....I said balls. Do golfers have balls? Or are they all castrated by their own pompousness. Geez, here I go again. Where the hell has this journal entry gone. I think I'm going nuts because it's 6 in the morning and I've been up since 3. I was so tired that I slept at 9pm and woke up at 3. Can't fall back asleep. Which is all good, because I plan to get out of here in the next hour and bring the dogs on a hike. Then the dog park. And finally, get my bloodwork done at the hospital. I haven't eaten anything since 8 last night. I actually fell asleep on the floor while Brady, Noel, and Arlene were still here. Joanne's Dad's birthday was yesterday and we celebrated it here. He's 69. Next year, we've gotta throw him a big party.

Back to golf. I took some pictures, saw some birds, and headed off to Antioch. I actually got a nice picture of this Kestrel on a branch. I also saw a female Northern Harrier scoping the golf course for some rodents. Then a Starling just chillin' on top of a house. Everytime I see birds of prey that I haven't seen in a while, it's always a good omen of things to come. I saw a sharp-shinned hawk right before I quit my job at Kelly Scientific Resources. What a dead end job. I swas a Cooper's Hawk right before we got to call for Mya. I'm trying to convince Joanne to put up this really beautiful poster frame of different birds of prey in the living room, but she ain't havin' it. Even though she knows how much it brings us wonderful blessings.

So I did a lot of driving, which includes going to Antioch right after San Ramon. The weather was a bit unsettling, because it rained, stopped, rained, stopped at least 20 times. Jo and Ket even said it hailed in Oakland and wherever Bella Vista Elementary is. I get to Antioch at about 10:20am and meet briefly with my teacher at Fremont Elementary to drop off pencils for the class (they're made out of recycled money and is their rewards for their great work), talk about a possible field trip site, and a possible action project (releasing tree frogs);. Right before that, I went to this really run-down creek which is walking distance from the school. I don't think we can have a field trip on this site, but it might be a good place for a restoration. When I come back to the office, Ket reminds me that she has a contact with Antioch High School to find a place to collect eggs, and also a contact with Dow Chemical (irony once more), which owns a preserve, with a big-ass factory in the middle. I'm glad she's taking care of this because it seems like a tough situation. When somebody in the City of Antioch caught wind of our tree frog release, that person stirred up some shit and wanted to make sure that we had the proper permits. The easiest thing would be to forget it and do another action project. But I want to show this chick that we can bypass her bureacracy, and teach the kids a wonderful lesson of restoration and re-population of a native species. No worries, Ket's holding it down.

Since I was near Concord, I drop by my favorite Vietnamese place called Pho Hoa Hiep or something like that. For the linguistically challeneged, they have another name for it - Kevin's Noodle House. The place is goddamn good. Jo introduced it to me when we went to one of our initial adoption seminars in Pleasant Hill. I didn't want to go because I thought it was too far, and we only had an hour for lunch. But she persuaded me. I'm glad we went. They have the best Pho, not to mention their blended pearl shakes (even though I don't order the pearls - too much carbs). When Ket and I went here while we were still teaching at Fremont, I brought her there and she liked the food, too. All except the fish sauce, which I mistakenly told her was some broth. She took a nice healthy sip of it before the waiter motioned to her not to do so. Oopps! So I got two, yes two, shakes. An avocado and taro. I was glad to see that they used real avocado. I was also happy to see that they have other restaurants in Oakland and in SF. On 12th St. in Oaktown, too which I frequent anyways.

So I take HWY 4 through Martinez, 80 south from Hercules, and I have some time to take Gilbey to Pt. Isabel. Pt. Isabel is this really huge dog park bordered by a US Post Office Mailing center, the freeway, and the bay. On any given day there could be 50 dogs at the park. But it's so big that fights are really uncommon. Gilbey had a grand ole' time running around, sniffing butts, peeing all over, dumping his load, and finally, chasing this Goldie all over for a good three minutes. Needless to say, he was pooped.

Afterwards, I brought Gilbey into the office, and everybody fell instantly in love with him. Even Mandi commented on how beautiful his coat was, despite the fact that she's not really a dog person. He hung out in the Rodeo while we all ate at Cha Am. After lunch, I made some calls, did a little paperwork, finally got our vacuum working, and headed to the grocery store to buy some stuff for tonight.

Jo's family came over at 7pm except for her brother and his fam. That dude trips me out. I leave two messages on his house and cell phone to call me back, and he calls back Joanne's cell. I think he's scared of me. I'm pretty friendly with him, but I sorta clump him and the wifey in that golfer crowd. On the alliteration tip, they can sometimes be pretentious, pompous, passive-aggressive and petty. Aw, puck it. They're family; I still love them.

I'm not a hospital....

Because I have no patience. Play on words, fool. Figure it out. Usually, I have patience like Cedars Sinai, but lately, it's being tested like an MF. First of all, people drive like fucking retards. Why do some drivers work so hard to change lanes to a seemingly faster lane, and then return to the same lane they were in just seconds later? You just got nowhere fast, dipshits. I've been sitting in traffic everyday this week, and sure enough, it's always an accident up ahead that's holding shit up. And these bottleneckers who like to gawk at accidents piss me the fuck off. What do you want to see? A mangled body? The pain on some kid's face after he just wrecked Daddy's Acura? What I'd like to see is all of these MF's taking BART. Either that, or a lesbian love scene. Oh yeah, and world peace.

As you can see, I cuss like a pirate when my patience wears thin. What's funny is I work with kids that could even try Nelson Mandela's patience. But I always keep my cool and handle situations well. I work with level 14 SED (seriously emotionally distrubed) kids, teach in highly volatile classes in low-income neighborhoods, and train my two puppies well, even if they insist on smelling my ass constantly. Now, I've got a little poop machine, that for no apparent reason, loves to cry. Most of the time, lil' Mya is telling us that she's hungry, wet, pooped, cold, or needs to be burped. And after she's been taken care of, she's fine. But there are times when she's crying and we can't figure out why!? When I'm in good form, I soothe her for 15 minutes and she's fine. But when it's the middle of the night, my patience runs thin. Sometimes, I feel like just letting her cry it out. But, my guilt gets the better of me after a few seconds of her wailing. Ah, the irony. I work with some f'd up kids, and I ain't trippin'. But put me in charge of a 10 lb. little dynamo, and I'm as inpatient as a crack fiend.

Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach.

And those who make up silly ass proverbs like this one can kiss my hairy ass crack. I love to teach. It affirms my existence on this planet. Recently, I was observed by my boss, and she had the nerve to give me some "feedback". Don't get me wrong, I love it when people observe me, so they can see me in my natural element. I also like having people give me constructive criticism, to a point. As long as it's valid. But this chick asked me to stop using "you guys" to refer to the class, and instead use "boys and girls" or "children". Who da fuck am I? Mary friggin Poppins?

Then she suggests to me to use positive reinforcement, and to call on students who aren't raising their hand to involve everyone. She observed me for an hour. One whole hour. You can't get a proper taste of a cake without cutting out a big piece. Are you kidding, I'm the king of positive reinforcement! And those kids I was teaching was a group of sophisticated private school 5th graders who don't respond too well to more elementary teaching techniques.

I love my job, but I swear the paperwork, observations, meeting minutes, etc. are ridiculously unnecessary. I didn't get into teaching to do documentation, fool! But I do love da kids, as Trick Daddy says. I had one of the greatest days of teaching last week, when I did a 3 hour presentation at Morello Park Elementary in Martinez. It was a group of 20 2nd graders who was taught by a 36-year veteran teacher. She instantly made me feel welcome in her classroom, and allowed me to take over completely. She also helped with the activities, as well as keeping some kids in line. But it was quite unneccesary, because these kids were so well-behaved, that I didn't even have to prompt anyone once! And these were 2nd graders. Whatever magic that teacher was using worked like a charm.

It's not magic. It's good classroom management. I left the class telling the students that this was the best class I've taught in all year. Two days later, I get a package in the mail from the teacher. Within it were letters from the entire class telling me how nice a teacher I was, how much they learned, how thankful they were, etc. And the teacher even wrote a touching little note, saying that I had a "nice way with the kids" and "good classroom management". How sweet, coming from a 36-year vet who would retire at the end of the year. I wonder what I can do to thank her and the class for their kindness. Should I send a card back? Should I send a photo collage? Too bad I didn't take any pictures in their class.

She also included in her note, "You have a long career in education ahead of you". I hope so, because I'm not ready to strip for a living. Gotta get rid of the lovehandles first.

A passing in our family

Our beloved dog, Jingo, was put to sleep last Sunday. I hesitate to call him our foster dog, because we had him for almost a year and a half. I've been very emotional about his passing, mostly because it was a decision that I made, but I do not regret the decision at all. I take solace in knowing that he is now in a better place, and his suffering is over.

Jingo came to us on September 20, 2003. I was attending a Pet Expo at the Alameda County Fairgrounds, and represented the rescue group that I was once a part of, the Jindo Project. I brought Gilbey and Jude with me and helped educate people about the Jindo breed, as well as help show off some of our foster dogs (namely Jude). During the second day of the expo, we got a call about a Jindo at the Fairmont Animal Shelter in San Leandro. Actually, it was a 3/4 Jindo, 1/4 Goldie male puppy that was only 3 months old. Since I was the closest member to the shelter, I volunteered to assess his temperament and pick him up from the shelter. When the shelter worker opened his kennel cage, this bouncy, cute little puppy jumped out and gave me kisses all over. Needless to say, I fell instantly in love.

I brought Jingo (then called Scout) to the Expo, and right when I walked into the door, my fellow rescue members introduced him to a couple who was interested in adopting a Jindo. They also feel instantly in love with him. Although I thought he was cute as a button, I couldn't possibly add another dog into the household (little did I know that I would be forced to change my mind about this). So they renamed him Jingo, and they lived happily ever after, right? Wrong.

Three weeks later, I get a call from our rescue person in Sac that I have to pick up Jingo because the couple returned him. Apparently, he bit the family's vet, the father, and rough-housed their 5-year old daughter. I thought to myself, "no way could the same dog that greeted me with kisses at the shelter could do these things." So I picked him up at Sac, along with another dog that I would eventually transport to the same couple. I soon found out that this dog had "issues". I tried to get a collar and leash on him, and he nearly bit my forearm. When I cornered him in the kitchen, he turned into Cujo and came at me like a rabid dog. Didn't do too much damage with those puppy teeth of his, but it did scare the living shit out of him. Literally. He emptied his bowels on the kitchen floor. So we consulted a professional trainer, and she diagnosed him to be fear-aggressive. We worked hard to take out the aggression in him, by socializing him with other dogs, socializing him with adults, children, and training him to be less fearful. He has a fear of men, which can probably be attributed to past experiences of abuse. He was also placed 5 different times when he was less than 3 months old.

A year later, Jingo is still living with us as our "foster" dog. There was a point in his development and training when I felt confident that he could be adopted out. I even considered adopting him out to our brother and sis-in-law (with their 3-year old) despite the fact that they had no prior experience with dogs. I'm glad I didn't because he was still a fearful dog. No amount of training or socialization could take that out of him. And he would always be scared of the littlest thing. A noise, a body movement, even our mere presence in the kitchen frightened him.

Our two dogs, Belle and Gilbey, had an apathetic and contentious relationship with Jingo, respectively. Belly tolerated him, despite the fact that he always bullied her. Gilbey and Jingo did not get along. At first, I thought I could get them to co-exist, but every time I left them alone, they would fight. So I started to only let them co-exist when I supervised them. They didn't fight for a while, but then they started fighting even in my presence! Jingo was so scared of everything that he was also scared of being in a lower place in our wolf pack. And Gilbey is a dominant dog. Don't get me wrong, Gilbey is a sweet, gentle, and wonderful dog, but he's a Beta to my Alpha. Our other male foster dog, Jude, a natural omega, got along famously with Gilbey because he knew his place. Jingo didn't.

The last straw was when Jingo started to develop a wound around his neck because his collar was too tight. It was a nasty wound, too. But he would never let me handle him around his neck. He would try to bite me or just run away. It would take me hours to get a leash on him, and forget about cutting his nails. Couldn't take him to the vet, either, because he would probably just lunge at him/her. Actually, this wasn't the last straw, because I was ready and willing to get him treated by a vet who had experience with aggressive dogs. The real last straw was when I introduced him to our foster rabbit. Belle and Gilbey had their own introductions through a fence, and they were content to sniff her and lick her. Jingo, on the other hand, decided to nip at the bunnies face. Luckily, I was right there to reprimand him and put a stop to any more nipping. Bun-Bun was ok. With a newborn in the house, we could not take any chances with Jingo. So it was time.

Despite his deficiencies, Jingo was a sweet dog. From the little happy puppy that kissed me all over at the shelter, to the bubbly personality that he brought into our household, Jingo was definitely an important part of our family. He was a licking machine, and greeted all of our guests happily. Our nephew, Brady, loved playing with him. He was a beautiful looking dog, with the athletic gait and body of a Jindo Gae, and the beautiful almond-shaped eyes of a Goldie. He loved to play fetch with a ball which is unheard of in the Jindo breed, but common in a Golden Retriever. He was very loyal, intelligent, and loving, and I will miss him terribly.



Jingo Mendoza
June 5, 2003 - January 9, 2005

What a shitty day

Not really a bad day at all. It's just that my life is dominated by shit. All different types. From pellets to chunks to big and small, I'm an equal opportunity shit-dealer throughout the entire day.

I was looking up the stats on my sitemeter, and notice a lot of people who stumble upon my diet and exercise blog with search words like....."creamy ass" and "mud butt". My blog also consists of my various bowel movements.

Rabbits shit like they were elephants. My rabbit eats a couple of carrots, some pellets, and some mixed greens, and it looks like a pellet city a day later. I thought pellets would be easy to take care of, but I find myself having to clean out that damn rabbit cage shit-catcher every other day. I swear that rabbit has a voracious appetite. I noticed a head of cabbage going bad in the fridge, so I popped the whole head in the rabbit's cage thinking that it should last her 3-4 days. That rabbit ate that head like a Taiwanese hooker on crack. It took a day and a half.

My dogs shit all over one side of the yard. I trained Belle and Jingo to do their bidness on the gravel, so it's easier for me to pick up. Especially the runny diarrhea specials. Gilbey still does his on the side yard. I've got to clean up after them 1-2 times a day, because Belly has a penchant for chewing on crap. Pretty nasty, but coprophagia is pretty common in dogs. Still, I make sure that the yard is cleaned up before I let her monkey ass out. Every week or so, I'd fill up a dog food bag's worth of crap, since I have three dogs. Every day is a crappy day.

One night, I got to work at the group home, and one of our kids was smearing all over the Quiet Room. It was summer time, so that shit was festering in the heat, and he got it in every little nook and cranny of that QR. Don't really know why they do it, but our therapist says it gives them a sense of power, when they're in a situation they cannot control. It took 2 hours to clean that shit up, and the kid didn't know what "elbow grease" was. The smell was attrocious, even though it was battling the smell of bleach and pine sol, which is pretty potent in its own right.

Normally we have enuretic kids, who can't control their bladder, but once in a while we have encopretics who can't control their bowel movements. It makes for a wonderful laundry experience , full of little brown surprises and skid marks galore. What a shitty job.

Now, I've got this 8 lb. little dynamo who really knows how to pack in those little pampers. It's a strange type of shit which I am oddly familiar with. I know how to handle vveggie-filled pellets, runny situations, dark bombs of glory, and corn-infested majesties, but hers was a new type that I've never experienced.

The first three days, this black stringy, creamy crap came out. They call it meconium (sic) and it's how the kid gets it GI tract ready to take in food and drink. Sorta like an initial tune-up on a car.

Since then, it's been this sweet-smelling, half-liquid, half-solid, yellowish mustard-seed looking crap with the consistency of cottage cheese. Of all the shits I've known in my life, this was the least offensive of all. Overall it was a crap-filled day, but I ain't complaining.