The Saga Of The New Dog 2

Hello again,

Well, Peanut has a name. Roy Lee, pronounced like the city Raleigh in North Carolina. It seemed fitting for some reason.

When I woke up this morning, there had been a startling transformation. I came into the living room where Roy Lee had made a comfy spot, (it is now Roy Lee's Cove) and there he was to greet me with a smile and a wagging tale.

Last night after he hadn't eaten and seemed to still be so unhappy, I got down on the floor with him and starting petting and brushing him. He relaxed to almost sleeping. Then I took the bowl of food I had given him and put it up to me face, pretended to eat (smack, smack, smack) then moved over a bit and he put his head at the bowl and pulled out some kibble and crunched it right down.

He has taken to the leash OK so far with very little tugging or pulling. As long as Maizey is with us he seems to be motivated to go where she does. This is very handy.

This morning he came outside with Maizey on her usual morning routine and did all his business on one side of the yard while she did hers on the other side. He has been getting lots of praise and is a bit pushy for more attention. I am not complaining. As I write this he has his front paws on my leg watching the screen intently. He's sure there is food up here somewhere, if he can only find it.....

The next move is to find a favorite treat that will motivate him and get his name set.

If you don't mind I'll keep you updated as he progress.

Pictures to come soon.

Thanks,

Garrison

The Saga Of The New Dog

Hi Ruth,

Well, he's run around and found his favorite spot in the apartment. He has gone with me on short walks around the building and has an idea of the layout.

My building is small, only 10 units, so everyone knows everyone and all the dogs get along with each other. Walking around the building takes about 1 and a half minutes. He's found the potty spot and urinated several times through the day. Maizey seems to be very happy to be the Scottish tour director and goes with us outdoors each time, and her company doesn't stop him from doing his business.

He's drinking water and has had a bath, but not eating yet. I'm not too worried about it, though, I'm not hungry when I'm having trauma as well. He's already taking to the leash but gets distracted easily. He'll focus more as he gets used to routine.

A name change is going to happen, but I'm getting his quirks and personality down a bit more before I personalize him and train him to it. I'm leaning toward Foozler or Baldric. Who knows. Right now he's The Handsomest Boy In The World. He wags at that.

I'll keep you posted as things go on, but for now all I can tell is he's sweet-natured and still a bit squeemish. Also, he loves getting brushed.

Thank you for getting him to me,

Garrison

A Poem I Wrote About Grief

NIGHT TERROR

And so I buried it to forget
In a place both dark and deep
Left there to putrefy, decay
Fluffed my pillow, went to sleep

But in the darkest hour of night
The hour of silence, all is still
Comes a movement in the depths
Twitch and shiver, iron will

Slow, determined, worming upward
Clawing, climbing, surface bound
At last the breakthrough, softly though
So not to make the slightest sound

Moving stealthily and slow
So It's travel stays unknown
Silent, creeping, finds the pathway
To my locked and shuttered home

Door and walls? They will not stop It
Bolt and latch won't slow It's course
No wish or prayer stops It advancing
No show of might, no strength of force

Paused at the stoop, It gathers power
Starts then forward 'cross the floor
Down the hallways, past the windows
Climbs the stair, then through my door

Now at the bedside, me there sleeping
So unwitting, quiet, at peace
Unaware of this Thing lurking
My tranquility It's goal to cease

Then slowly lowering down beside me
Without a jostle to perceive
Still frays my slumber with It's presence
My dreams each tatter, lose their weave

Pressing, pushing deep within me
Enters my soul, once more It's Keep
And I remember
Oh, I remember
Dear God, I remember
And I weep

The Duck-billed Platypus (Ornithorhynchus anatinus) is a semi-aquatic mammal endemic to eastern Australia, including Tasmania. It is one of the five extant species of monotremes, mammals that lay eggs instead of giving birth to live young. It is the sole living representative of its family (Ornithorhynchidae) and genus (Ornithorhynchus).

The bizarre appearance of this egg-laying, venomous, duck-billed, beaver-tailed, otter-footed mammal baffled European naturalists when they first encountered it, with some considering it an elaborate fraud. It is one of the few venomous mammals; the male Platypus has a spur on the hind foot that delivers a venom capable of causing severe pain to humans.

They also happen to be fuzzy, like me.

Let me explain:

I used to be a very large furry guy that identified with the Gay Bear Community. Then I lost weight while living in Ireland. Over a hundred pounds. So now, I am too thin to be a bear, too fat to be an otter, and not muscular enough to be a wolf. I'm just a tall hairy guy with out a category. So I came up with one of my own.

I am a platypus. I am perfectly satisfied with this.

Another thing, I have been HIV+ for 25 years or so without any real detriment to my health. Hence the fact that I identify with a poisonous mammal. I have been called poisonous many times and referred to as carrying poison, though the poison does not seem to hurt me. It can be fatal to others, as any person with even rudimentary knowledge of the past 30 years would tell you.

This blog is a way to help me learn to write more fluidly. I have a couple ideas for books and would really like to get more comfortable with writing.

If you peruse my blog you will see photographs that I have taken. Please feel free to leave your comments on them.

I consider this an adult site because of some of the photographic content I know will be published on it. Also, I may get a bit risque with some of my entries.

We'll see.

G'luck