Animal Magnetism

Do you ever put people in dog breed categories? She's as yappy as a Chihuahua. What a feisty little Dachshund! If he weren't as stubborn as a Bulldog...

What would I be? German Shepherd all the way.

Contemplative. Fiercely loyal. Protective. Smart.

Always running scenarios through my head with an eye for keeping my loved ones safe from harm.

Playful. Thoughtful. Not impulsive. Perimeter check? Total on it. (Long before it even crossed your mind.) I'm a planner. Big time.

Bathroom accidents are for tacky little dogs. Clue-less types. Urinate in a public space? I would rather die than lose my privacy or my dignity.

I do leave messes... the chewed up things no one is supposed to chew. (I can't help myself. I have some obsessive compulsive tendencies.) I can occasionally track in mud. (Oops - did I really leave that trail?)

If I don't get daily exercise (or the exorcising of my mind), we all suffer.

I'm intense. Not easy to live with. Not easy to understand. And yes, I whine. I have so much to tell you that you cannot understand. And thanks to my perceptive nature, I understand your limits. So I can tell when the whining is getting to you and I stop. Sigh. And plop down on my bed (or sofa) with a grunt to go back into myself and my thoughts.

I love you. I never want to be away from you for long. (What would you do without my protection and care?)

I have an odd duality. I can appear intimidating to those who don't know me well. Maybe it's my watcher stance or the piercing gaze. But I am a softie at heart. Unless .... you threaten my people. Then I am scarier than you even ever knew. So there you have it. Do the right thing and we'll be copacetic.

Social events are okay in moderation. I generally hang out on the sidelines for a while, sizing up the energy before I enter in. Crazy extroverts can make me nervous. Or they can be my best friend. It's sort of a case-by-case thing.

In social situations my engagement can be full throttle. But later I spend a lot of time just snoozing, one-eye-open. "Chillin' with my peeps at home." I sort of have two speeds: fast and off. Some of my friends never seem to need downtime. Labs, Whippets, zany Boxers and some mixed breeds. I love lairping around with those guys. You see me rassling and chasing at the dog park, you would almost think I'm an extrovert too. But once we get home I collapse; recharge needed. Social types are fun. Nothing like a good old romp with them. But ooh they wear me out. I need generous hours of quiet time to recover from all that fabulous crazy.

One of my favorite pastimes is being outside at home and staring at nature. I notice every dragonfly, the deer tiptoeing through the wood, a jet streaking silently across the sky. I also love sitting at the front room window and watching who is walking by the house or coming to get the mail.

Food? Meh. There are a lot of things I simply can't eat. And there is nothing I won't sniff and approach with skepticism before I eat it. We both know I have digestive issues that can make life hard for all of us from time to time. So stop pushing that ghastly kibble my way. How does anyone eat that and live?

Motorcycles mesmerize me. Oh the dreams of wanderlust! The lure of the open road! I love car rides, feeling the breeze, smelling the luscious scents; thrilling to the joy of going somewhere, anywhere, with you. Sometimes I sit up front so I can be sure you haven't lost your way. If you forget to make a turn, say, to the dog park, I will let you know. You may get lost in the space in your head and need a copilot who never stops thinking.

I have the fullest imagination, but there is no place I love more than my home. Which is, of course, wherever YOU are.

Encore Les Americains

This week a terrorist with a Kalashnikov automatic rifle and three hundred rounds of ammunition was subdued in a closed train carriage in France. By three young Americans on holiday.

Headline: America Saves France. Again.

While French authorities (train personnel) ran away from the violence and locked themselves into a compartment, three American babies ran towards the threat and took the bad guy down.

It is occasion to be thankful for American stand-bys like tackle football, rugged individualism, violent video games and the American Armed Services. I can assume some or all of these influences were mixed into the crucible that shaped instincts so deep they caused these young men to run into danger without an instant of thought.

The boys are childhood friends, aged 22. One is a senior at Sacramento State University in California. One an Air Force pilot. One in the Oregon National Guard.

The French president made a statement thanking these young heroes for their "quick thinking action" that saved everyone from "a drama". One of the heroes was cut in the face, neck and hand. Two people were wounded - at least one of them shot. A drama? Sir, no one can save the French from their drama. What these brave American babies did was to save your lives.

The terrorist? A Moroccan national living in Spain who had traveled to Syria to fight with ISIS. His family and friends are in shock and disbelief that their peaceful "good guy" had this in him. Well, he did.

Until he was tackled, beaten unconscious, hog-tied, and held on the train platform until the French police arrived.

This is the face of America that rarely gets press. Three brawny, courageous, humble young kids who just did what needed to be done in the face of fear and terror. Yeah - one is black. The one in university. And ... no thug accent or ghetto affect. The two white guys? Guess what! They are neither mass shooting murderers nor pedophiles. They aren't backwoods hillbillies with mullets and bad grammar. Three handsome, strong, uber-normal young men wearing basketball t-shirts and soccer jerseys. Thinking about something besides themselves.

Sadly, this story seems as much an embarrassing reveal of French cowardice as it is a triumph of American gusto. I'm more Francophile than Francophobe. I was, once upon a time, an enthusiastic teacher of French. I try to be a humanity-phile, always looking for the best in everyone. But negative stereotypes exist.. and they come from somewhere. The French are lampooned as utterly lacking in courage. Or as sniffing snobs looking down their nose at the rest of the world. Cowardice and arrogance - a pathetic combination.

When a situation creates a searing portrayal that confirms the worst traits attributed to a culture, it's hard to resist believing it. Mes amis, I am your cheerleader. But when you act with craven cowardice, the whole world blushes. And I can't defend you. Fortunately for all, someone else did.