Joaquin Miller Park in Oakland has the most boring dog run I've ever seen in the Bay Area, but the surrounding forest area? Amazing. Just the kind of natural boost I needed to plug through some more work on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. Bowdu obviously enjoyed it too. He got to bring home a lovely eucalyptus perfume on his back. I'm so glad he didn't scent roll in bird shit or dead squirrel.

As a general rule, Shibas aren't supposed to be trusted off-leash. A combination of their independent streak and hyperactive prey drive is supposed to make their recall unreliable, and you're "absolutely NEVER" supposed to let them go, lest you wind up with a lost or car-flattened puppy.

But we live in a rather atypical area, where off-leash dog parks are abundant, and Bowdu is a special Shiba in some ways (just as any pet is a special exception, right?). After all, he never enjoyed going outside, on OR off-leash while we were living in Taiwan. How I envied other dog owners who were able to walk their dogs with such slack leads, and how I envied even more those dogs that followed obediently, without a leash. It seemed like such a natural and effortless relationship, like other dogs were born understanding how to ignore the constant threat of traffic and crowds, knowing to stay close to their owner. Contrary to the word 'round these parts, I've seen many a Shiba capable of off-leash restraint -- at least, specifically in Taiwan.

So I was a little nervous the first time we let Bowdu off-leash at Cesar E. Chavez, but... it's hard to describe the pure animal joy that exploded from this pup when he realized that for maybe only the second time in his life, he was free to just run, as hard and as fast as he liked (the first time being that day we decided on a whim to let him run around on the salt field in Utah, since it felt like we were surrounded by a great expanse of nothingness). After my initial anxiety wore off, it became apparent that his sense of freedom didn't necessarily mean he would run as far as possible -- or at least, as far as he cared to run was that distance that still kept R. or me within view. Once or twice he's crested a hill and temporarily lost sight of us, but upon rounding a bend we'd catch him frantically looking left and right, only to bound back in our direction for an eager, lolly-tongued reunion once he found us again.

There are a couple other Shiba owners that go to the smaller, fenced-in dog park in town, and we've chatted about this before. I've encouraged them to give the larger parks a go, but I think they're more by-the-book type of Shiba parents, so they're very skeptical about letting their baby run off all by herself. Then again, their dog is also way more socialized than Bowdu, so of course some good comes out of doing everything as you're supposed to. No, we've never put Bowdu through a formal training regimen. He knows sit, down, shake, give me a kiss, and that's about it. His stay lasts about 30 seconds. His recall sucks and if he doesn't feel like coming, he WON'T come (though I do keep a cache of extra savory treats on me anytime we go to the park, periodically slipping him a bite to remind him that it pays to stick close to me). That's just the kind of bastard he is. But somehow, he always knows whom he's with, and returns accordingly. Even when we're in the middle of acres and acres of open space, he needs not make a distinction between freedom and home.

Schemer by day, thief at night. One reason I would be so uneasy about leaving Bowdu with anybody but the most experienced of dog handlers is that he has a terribly bratty habit of stealing stupid, insignificant things. Sure, there's something to be said for dog-proofing your house, but a hair tie, a Sharpie, an empty Fruit Roll-Up wrapper or even a chunk of scrap wood discarded from a closet renovation project are all fair game in his mind. He'll slink off into the bedroom or the yard with his pilfered possession, just waiting to be discovered. When we eventually notice that the dog has been too quiet for too long and go to check on him, he'll be crouched low over his new thing, just daring us to retrieve it from between his paws or under his muzzle with flattened ears and a barely audible growl.

He's actually much better about relinquishing items now, but I've still gotta move reeeeal slooow, giving him space to think about what is more precious to him -- his stupid new thing, or my good will. As soon as the item is removed from his touch, you can almost hear a *pop* as the Selfish Devil Bowdu is exorcized from the room, and the Loving Angel Bowdu flutters back to inhabit his proper self.

Anyway, I wanted to post these pictures since I was going through the camera and clearing off the memory to make room for more pictures in preparation for the departmental 新年会 for grad students next Friday. We're hosting it at the house. I have never organized my own party before, at least not without the initiative and help of more social and host(ess)y housemates. I am afraid we're all going to end up sitting on the living room floor with little to do but eat and kvetch about how none of us are ready to start classes again (repeat ad nauseum), especially if only a handful of people bother to trek allll thiiis waaay off campus... but at least we'll have lots of sweet, sweet music on vinyl, CD, and mp3.

Bowdu chewed up an ant button that I foolishly left on the floor behind the toilet, thinking he would ignore it. So he was forcefed activated charcoal and received an enema for Christmas. I mean, he was behaving perfectly normally before and after we brought him in, but after what happened with the time he ate coffee grounds, better safe than sorry.

No worries. Not for this guy, at least.

( 寶肚は鉄竜といっしょに公園で遊びました。 )

Lately, I've been having interior design fantasies, nest-building daydreams, if you will. If only our long-term residency at this rental was assured, I sigh, using that as my excuse not to beautify the apartment with art and trinkets, and actually haul in furniture that would be worth keeping. Matching dinnerware, framed posters, solid wood bookcases painted in brilliant rainbow shades... hell, maybe I could even be reunited with the rest of my media collection from Kalamazoo! I've been thinking about this for years, but only recently have these thoughts really driven me to distraction.

The previous tenant, another student in my department, lived here for six years. She had this dresser that she was pitching, but since R. and I arrived with nary a stick of furniture, I asked her to leave it. And so we used it as it gradually fell apart, day by day.

Then it tried to eat my hand and give me tetanus. The threat of bodily harm is what it took to get me to buy my own damn dresser.

I was looking at the thing the other day and just cracked up laughing at this ruined piece of furniture, and myself, for having ignored its junked presence for so many months. Somehow, I had just willed it beyond the very limits of my consciousness, like I wasn't sharing the room with it every night. This is a condition of my cheapness and inability to conceive of permanence, perhaps. By denying this dresser's uselessness, I was delaying the confrontation with obsolescence which would further remind me how almost nothing I currently own is fit to last years, let alone "Forever".

Someday, I will find THE place -- not just the city, but the abode -- where I can look forward to living for several continuous, undisturbed years. At this point, I would love to have just three years without moving. That would be awesome. I can't even romanticize transience anymore, because you're not supposed to romanticize the life that you actually know. So I yearn quietly for what I don't have.

Yet.

Speaking of wanting things, here is the Super Bonus Bowdu picture for the month (which is actually from last month). He has perfected his mooching face and posture. The effect is potent.

Then Bowdu and I went to Ohlone, the little dog park, where a news reporter (the one in pink holding the microphone, of course) was interviewing people who make their own dog food, tying that in with the recent dog food scare. Nope, nuttin' to do with either me or the dog.

***

In light of my recent burst of radio nostalgia, I want to point out that casetta, posting from Philadelphia, plugged WCBN on his Weekly Five this week. When you're gettin' the scoop from someone whose record collection numbers in the tens of thousands... YOU BETTER LISTEN! Sure, lots of people have crummy record collections, even large collections of bad records, but chances are that once you hit a certain number of records, you have transcended all the possible suckiness that was commercially available in your lifetime, and have at least penetrated the surface of music considered to be timelessly good. Hence, people with massive record collections are always automatically deserving of your attention.

That sentence made more sense in my head. Anyway, go have a look.