The Day America Went Stark Raving Mad

They say, be careful what you ask for...well, folks, we're gonna get it.  And it won't be pretty. Rome, England, all the empires that once were.. now us.

Now that all the craziness of the aborted election fraud contest is behind us, we can look forward to exactly how bad we are about to be screwed.  But exactitude is impossible, because we, as rational humans, cannot conceive of the depravity, nonsense, and just plain meanness that the idiots now running the asylum are capable of.  But it's fine. Really. Because all good things must end, and the dowager queen that was the United States of America, as we knew it (warts and all) has now been officially exiled.  We are left with the same mentality that took over France after the monarchy fell--and look what France is now. Once a world power, now...well, not.  We had a good run, 250 years, maybe not as long as the Romans, but hell, they didn't put a Legionnaire on the moon!  Quality over quantity.

But it's fine, really it is.  The good news is that with any luck, I will not be around to see the worst of it, when our values built up over decades have all but disappeared, our economy is in the crapper, and we are all learning Mandarin as a second (if not first!) language.  I think I have enough to live on even with this government's mentality, but the real losers are my/our children (probably) and grandchildren+ (certainly).  I predict, mournfully, that the liars, cheats, and scoundrels now occupying the seats of power will do all they can to solidify their base and can never be voted out by reasonable people again. If we stop at socialism, it will be a miracle.  So, my remote descendants, grab your ankles and gird your loins, they will be coming for you and what you have.

How did we get into this mess?  Bread and circuses...but that isn't all of it. I knew Pat Frank, author of Alas, Babylon, and thought that might be a good title for this post. But it is inaccurate. The title was from the Book of Revelations and mourned "that great city Babylon, that mighty city! for in one hour is thy judgment come."  The premise of the book was that the Soviets would start a nuclear war and the US would be devastated in a short time ("one hour").  That is not our case. We have done this to ourselves over decades, a gradual rotting away of the values and strengths that made us the greatest country on earth for so long. It is easy for a rational person to see it, now that it has become so pervasive, but it is again the lobster pot scenario--we don't know we are being cooked until we find ourselves bright red. (And not in a good way.)

A Streetcar Named "You Must Have Lost Your Minds"

After Lucy's passing, it was hard to get excited about getting another dog. She was so special she could never be replaced.  So, to take a stab at it, we got TWO.

Jane had begun looking at Dachsie rescue sites at the end of the year, but a pup would show up and immediately be claimed by someone who had been on the list longer. Very frustrating.  Finally, we got word that a cute red fellow was available who needed a home because his owners (sorry, PETA, that is the reality of it) found him troublesome. He was, allegedly, a cat chaser.  Not a cat harmer, but a chaser.  We thought we could give it a try, Bella being too old and slow to give him much of a chase.  However, the Rescue Mama (Tia with Dachshunds Seeking Forever Homes) was concerned about that, so she volunteered to bring along to the Meet and Greet another cute 7 year old who had just become available, and we could choose either. Or both.  (I think you can see where this is going....)

Indy was a red dapple (the cat chaser) who was very traditional looking, body-wise and otherwise. I had never seen a dapple Dachsie of any color, but he was 100% the dog we expected.  His former owner moved in with a boyfriend and Indy was unwanted--the guy had cats, which should have been a red flag right there.  He seemed friendly enough and rushed over to us and commenced licking any exposed part we put near him. So excited.

Bella was a gray dapple, even more un-Dachshund like from my experience, who was just as friendly, but a tad more reserved. She was polite and waiting her turn for attention (which, we found out, was more of an act, given her queen of the house demeanor now).  We had discussed whether we would take both on the drive to the meet, and no firm plan was conceived, more of a let's wait and see.  They say that any plan for any fight doesn't survive the first punch in the face... and the pups smacked us in the kisser hard.  And here's why.

So we took them both. 

Having a family member already named Bella made a name change obligatory.  We wanted something similar enough so the poor thing wouldn't be too confused and could adapt, so "Stella" seemed like a natural.  Indiana Jones (Indy) did not appeal to us that much, so I tried shifting that to Andy...pretty close, I thought...but we had trouble with that too.  It didn't seem to fit him that well.  It didn't take more than a few days of Andy to morph it into (what else?) Stanley, which not only has stuck, but also seems to fit his personality better.  He is a bit submissive yet, and has a slight fear of hands, leading me to believe he was mistreated by Cat-boy. But he parades and dashes ahead on our walks like he owns the neighborhood. He does whine when he is excited or when Jane goes out...he seems to be a real Momma's boy.  He also has the same tendency as Lucy had to have bad dreams, resulting in whimpers and body jerks. Probably dreaming of giant Siamese cats!

Stella is much closer to Lucy in temperament, but doesn't have the same personality.  She is indeed a doll, but is more of a diva.  She does not seem to like walks as much as either Lucy did or Stanley does, and waddles most of the way.  With her white face, gray body, and rocking gate (and funny tail) it often looks like I am walking my pet possum.  She roughhouses with Stanley--one good thing about getting two of them--and they alternate being the winner.  While Stanley is a whiner, Stella is more vocal. In addition to a rather strange groan-like sound she makes occasionally that defies naming, she barks for attention. We have to work on that.  She also barks at anyone outside, on the street, on bikes, and especially at dogs.  Ah, the joy of middle aged pooches.

The other thing they do that is hysterical is burrowing.  I suppose Dachsies are bred to dig and burrow, but they will both worm their way under blankets, covers, throws, sheets, anyplace they can hide.  Means that plopping down on the sofa requires a quick check to make sure there isn't one under the throw.

I can't say the burden is as great, but the way we did it is similar to going to the hospital for a baby and coming home with twins. Two of everything and it often takes both of us to wrangle them, especially for walks.  But they are worth it all.

More evidence of their supernatural cuteness:

Notice that they sleep a lot. Or maybe that's the only time we can get a shot of them not running around.