Liam Goes to School

We signed Liam up for 7 training sessions; the course is entitled Basic Canine Behavior Class; all the basics like "wait, leave it, stay, watch me." I am the designated parent to go to the sessions. By rights, Paul should be going, as he needs as much training as Liam. It seems we have been doing very little correctly. Over the 15 months that Liam has been with us, we have gradually eroded any boundary line between human and dog. Liam started in a proper crate. He quickly learned to do his business outside. He did not sit on the furniture, he did not sleep with us, he did not bark for play, he did not jump on people. He was a docile little puppy at 6 months He did always pull on his leash and jump for squirrels; one such leap leaving me with a Van Goghish shiner However, all that changed after a bad day at the groomers during which he was caged for too many hours awaiting his bath. Upon returning home, Liam refused to go back to his beloved crate. We tried, but the howling, crying and battering of the crate walls were heartbreaking. This sad event occurred the last week of June, 2008. That is when Liam started to gain the upper hand. He began sleeping near me in his bed, then joined me then sat on one chair, then on all. He began barking when he wanted to play and we cooperated.
Liam pulls on the leash during his walk and has the power to drag you down when he spies a squirrel. Paul took over the walks and only recently have I learned what goes on during the "Paul and Liam walk." Paul encourages Liam to lead. Liam is allowed to stop whenever and wherever he wants, He is permitted to poop on neighbor's lawns; and those lawns would be in the Oaks, the richest part of NHP. Liam leads the way out of the house and leads the way back into the house. Paul and Liam also have a bowl of popcorn together every Friday after we return from Crabtree's Then as the evening wears on they fall asleep together on the couch I have also been bad. I have allowed Liam to lick the last lap of foam from my lattes let him steal my PJ's and sleep on them have his blanket and his own pillow at my feet while we watch late night TV. As you can surmise we have a tough road ahead.

Week 1-March 26-April 2

Training has hit snags. The treat reward itself seems to distract Liam from the task. We complied with the suggestions of the instructor; got a choke collar, put away the prong collar, got a clothesline for in house obedience and stopped some bad habits such as tug of war, and letting Liam ram into us for fun. The idea of the clothesline (tether) is to pull it when there is unwanted indoor behavior. We were told to soak it in Listerine so that the dog would not chew it off. I did and Liam chewed it off, undeterred by Listerine- he seems to like its jarring odor and antiseptic flavor. An alternate suggestion was to immerse the rope in hot sauce and rub Cayenne pepper on it. Liam wore it for about an hour, while sitting on top of the couch where he is not allowed. Paul hated it as the house smelled like New Orleans BBQ ; and Liam loved it-a bouquet of Mardi Gras of smells. The tether training was a failure . Water guns came back out to stave off his forays at our food during dinner Liam was told that he had a chair and should stay put during the evening

Week 2-April 3- April 9
We have the "wait "command, the "here" command and the "leave it" and "watch" to practice with treats. Liam is already a sausage dog still trying to lose those 3 pounds gained from the surreptitious Ruth McNiff treats during the holidays. Paul insists "no treats" the dog must perform just for the praise; which he actually does most times. Liam is a true LEO; he will take anything he can get.
A problem though; when we say "wait" Liam sits and "gives paw" when we say "here " he rolls over. These are the tricks he has learned and he is not giving them up so easily. They got him treats up to now.

From the handout:
"Do Not Repeat Yourself. Saying sit, sit, sit, sit is merely teaching the dog to disobey you. If the dog is not deaf, he is not responding because he is either confused as to what is expected, distracted, or stubborn, not because he didn't hear you."

Sunday, April 5-I have finished My "watch me" command segment with success and have gone off to another room. I hear a non stop litany of "sit, sit, sit , sit, sit, sit, sit," then "good dog", from Paul to Liam. . Oh no, this is exactly what we are not supposed to do.

Monday, April 6, I did some of the commands with treats. I stopped doing latte licks, licks of coke (that would be coca cola) and sharing dollops of peanut butter. Moreover, we weighed the little sausage dog and all the treats have contributed to his permanent new weight of 33 pounds.

Tuesday, April 7 Liam is only half pulling on leash; a real breakthrough. But at home he attacks two hair squishes and strips them of all sequins and baubles-the "drop it command" is totally ignored. Poop should be very psychedelic and easy to spot in the yard. It is.

Wednesday, April 6, early. I get up at 3 AM. I have severe sleep issues. Restless leg, sleep apnea, night sweats-the whole sleep disorder package. I sneak out to the kitchen and open the fridge door. Liam appears. He knows I am sneaking a snack and he wants in. He also has me trained-if I do not share, he barks to wake Paul. I make a sandwich. Turkey on pumpernickel I do two halves; this way I trick myself into thinking I have two sandwiches- In addition, another bit of blarney thought I have incorporated into my brain is that middle of the night snacking does not count as overeating. . I make the 2 half sandwiches, luscious-turn to put the bread away and Liam leaps 5 feet into the air. swipes both halves with his paws and wolfs them down -yes, both at once. woofy good. Liam is licking his lips, do dogs have lips? Well, he is licking what would be lips if dogs have lips. When Paul gets ready for work, several hours later, I tattle on Liam to Paul, he says "he'll be 35 pounds now."

Thursday, April 9, Lesson three tonight. Paul and I both think Liam has learned some commands; and I think Paul has learned some also. Most important though, who is the pack leader in the McNiff/Nikol household? The three of us all seem to have our moments. Are we a family of equals?

From Basic Obedience Training Guide:
"Dogs are pack animals that live by a social hierarchy. It is imperative for obedience and stability that the dog sees the owners as authority figures. If there is no clear pack leader, the dog will assume the role in order to ensure the integrity of the pack."

We are the pack leaders, I am sure of it.

Liam's version:

My parents, Carol and Paul , have enrolled me in obedience class. Up to now my life has been going along perfectly. I have my own chair I sleep whenever and wherever I want I watch TV I steal clothes and I walk Daddy Paul when we are out; he does not walk me. I bark at my parents when I want them to play with me; they are very obedient. When I want to go out I ring my poochie bells, if Daddy or Mommy do not come right away, I bark until they do. On the weekends I let Daddy Paul sleep a bit later, but by 8:30, I climb on him, lick his face until he gets up and feeds me.
I own the yard I rule the birds and their bath I survey my estate And I can always go next door to Rosie and Shady if things over here get tough

I am the pack leader Woof, woof. Arooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Play Day and Play Date

I got a ticket to see a play, a matinee on Wednesday, March 25. I would become one of those out of town imports from the suburbs who descend on Manhattan every Wednesday. There are the women's groups , the school kids with their teachers and the TDF, TKS, telechargers etc, all of whom get discounts. I would be a TDFer this day. First, I put Liam in daycare, as I decided he needed some canine company; he has the crazed look of a dog who has spent too much time with his human mother even my best imitations of dogs barking and howling do not equal the real thing. Please Mommy let me play with some real dogs. And in keeping with the "cheap" day theme, I am using a coupon for a free doggy day care day. I brought him in, the staff went wild; Liam is popular, we said goodbye, he looked bewildered, my heart hurt a little, broke, I recovered , so did he, he went off to his play day with the toys I packed. Back home, I parked, walked to the LIRR, 20-25 minutes from my house. I no longer park by the station, as I got a ticket on one trip (for parking over 4 hours), was shut out of the municipal lot another time (no more spots) and on another city trip, threatened by a lunatic homeowner near the train when attempting to park in front of his house. The houses near train stations are about $50-75, 0000 cheaper than those farther away. Why? because of the noise, the folks walking by, and people parking and heading off on the LIRR, like me. So these folks get the benefit of a cheaper mortgage and spend an inordinate amount of time in campaigns of rage against LIRR riders who park by their houses. I get to the ticket machine and there is a group discussing how to get the tickets. My signal to go inside and try the human at the ticket counter. I felt like I was on the "Amazing Race", trying any option to secure a ticket. Ticketman is on his cell, turning his back to me when I approach. No, that did not just happen! What kind of service is this? He sees me coming and turns around! A sign in the waiting room displays an attractive station manager with an earnest statement beneath her face to the effect that she will help if anything is wrong. A trick, ticketman is probably talking to her right now. I go back outside to try the ticket machine once more. The group has finished buying but is still congregating in front of the ticket machine checking each of their tickets. Why? The ticket buyer for the group announces "I thought my name would be on each ticket, as I used my credit card; My name is on my credit card; I thought my name would show up." Must be a Leo. We think and hope our names will show up on every transaction. I sneak a peek at my ticket, no name, just a generic ticket to Penn and back. Train is on time, the ride is routine, the walk uptown is uneventful, I am early. There is a Starbucks right across from the theater, I get my coffee drink and perch on the stool in the window so I can peoplewatch. What a watch it is! The day is cool, eyehurting sun, sort of NY brisk, but you would never know as the passersby have not dressed for the weather but for being seen in NYC. Wispy skirts and diaphanous tops, North Face coats paired with bare legs and feet encased in warm Uggs, Caftans, tee shirts and thongs, furs and diamonds and leather pants and very high heels. A show before the show. In addition, I can make up my own dialog and story for each passerby. Nice.

The doors open and we go in. I notice that the audience is composed of a lot of older woman attending solo. Guess that would be me, I put my newly refurbished hearing aids in-they have been functioning as ear plugs, not transmitting sound but now have been repaired. As I have told you in prior "Liam Licks" my hearing loss is virtually uncorrectable as I hear everything; but cannot discriminate between certain words. You say winter, I hear wiener. But I'll give them a go. Immediately upon insertion, I hear too much. The zippering of a purse is like a scream, the rustling for a tissue, like a crackling fireplace, and that last tic tac like jack hammer in the mouth. I will stand it. However, wait. A trio of women sit down in front of me and one is directly in my field of vision. She is not sitting tall but her hat is. I understand there are medical reasons, as well as fashion and cultural reasons for covering one's head, but this hat does not seem to fit those reasons. Hers is a woolly hat, which comes to a point 6 inches above what I think must be the physical top of her head. I think that if the hat is tamped down to her actual head I would gain 6 inches of viewing. Is she entitled to her seat plus 6 inches of space above her head? A theater hat should be like this, no point or pom pom to impede viewing I now understand why Donald Trump has bought space above his NYC buildings to guarantee an eternal view from his window. So the play is ready to start. I can hear too much, see too little and am alternating between roasting and freezing, as we are all totally wedged, not an inch for movement. If I move to the left or right to avoid the pointed hat I will be snuggling onto a woman's shoulder to my left or right. Older women on both sides. The room darkens and the opening monologue begins- almost every word is a four letter curse. mostly F_ _ _ and S_ _ _. These words assault my fragile hearing aided ears with a velocity of sound like rounds of ammunition; added to it are the audience the sounds of swallowing, coughing and teeth grinding. What ever happened to "sound" teeth? I much prefer the Irish curses of "Feck" and "shite" for they seem more whimsical, and less angry. The play gets worse as more characters arrive with the same anger and tacky curses. I also have "clappers" and "laughers" surrounding me-those folks who (in my seatmate's opinion) are professionally planted by the management to laugh and clap after very speech, making you think you are alone in your negative feelings. Due to my magnificent hearing they seem to be all around me. Haha Haha hehe. Aroooooo. Clap clap clap, woof, woof. A cacophony of sounds, like bad acoustics in a busy restaurant. I am screaming in my head. Let me out, please. Then the Intermission. I am alone. I can leave and not return. No one to negotiate with; the beauty of the solo experience. The woman next to me says "Pretty tight in here" I agree and point to the hat in front of me, complaining "And I cannot see." She comments, "well, the play is awful, you are lucky" She offers encouragment "maybe it will get better." Maybe. I decide to stay. Nevertheless, I make adjustments. I remove my hearing aids, Aah, peace. The" f"and "s" words now sound more like "Feck" and "shite". The woman in front of me removes her hat-no, put it back on, please, I sink lower in my seat, to avoid seeing the players. The hired clappers and laughers are done; they have kept the crowd in their seats through intermission, so they can stop. We are captives now until the end.
It ends. My neighbor turns to me and sighs "It did not get better." I just smile because it did for me.
I heard less ( no hearing aids), saw less
(found another hat to hide behind), and cared less. ( I am writing my Liam Licks story in my head ) A NYC adventure. Worth it.

Liam and I meet up after my Play Day and his Play Date; he rests outside enjoying the memories of his Play Day. He is content. nothing like a stick crunchy


yummy, life is good. A NY day. Worth it.



Woof, woof

What do you do each day?

Retirement is a joy for me, but a puzzle, mystery, annoyance and worse to many workers I encounter in my retirement life. I have been asked several questions over and over. What do you do each day? Are you bored? Do you have a routine yet? Do you have travel plans? And there are well meaning (I think) suggestions: You could get a "little job." You could do volunteer work. You could learn to cook. Nasty.
I have decided to confront these questions and suggestions head on. I have written a "retirement mission statement" I wrote it in word, saved it and printed it out. I carry it in my handbag. When these questions and suggestions come up, I whip out my mission statement and start reading. I usually am met with an amused protest and am not allowed to finish. The Mission Statement is a "living" work; I update and revise it as I move on in my retirement. Here it is as of today:

I like to learn, listen, laugh, watch, share, include, inspire, evolve, help, think, dream, remember, mentor, advise, advertise and show off
and I like
my Blog- LiamLicks, my dog, Liam, all pets, eating out, drinking wine, working out, Starbucks, lattes, taking photos, arranging photos, sharing and creating photo albums, Blackberry, Facebook, Oprah, CNN, Anderson Cooper, writing course at NCC, new friends, old friends, Crabtree's, public speaking, texting, Library, Lavender Nails, Ebay, gardening, Susan J Komen for breast cancer, Pet Rescue, Reading, doing mitzvahs, helping someone each day in some way, politics, organizing events, running parties, arranging gettogethers, Survivor, Lost, Damages, theater, Restaurant weeks, blogging, gardening, movies, newspapers, magazines, Rhinebeck, NEPSC retiree website, SNT '64 website, reunions, family gatherings and Bruce Springsteen

staying up late, sleeping in, getting up early only when I want to

Doing whatever I want, whenever I want, with whomever I want

and in my writing, using semi colons, sentence fragments, passive voice, commas, caps, mixing tenses and splitting infinitives in whatever way I want, without fear of editorial reprisal

Sleep whenever, early or late, with friends or alone



Play all day


Drink wine


Drink lattes


Read


Watch late night TV


Enjoy new friends, Syd and Kendl



and do not forget old friends like Stormy


live every moment and love every minute
I do understand the need to know what a retiree does. I almost asked the question of a fellow retiree the other day; I caught myself in time. Had I not, I would have lent him my Mission Statement to be read back to me.

Woof, Woof

Roots

In my blog a few weeks ago, I recorded this exchange: Last-born elderly sister says, "Did you see Heidi Klum's roots?" "Yes, of course, I did" I reply, but add that "the latest is that it is “in" to have roots"- .roots on TV-roots are acceptable and even cultivated, see examples following:

She replies, "Then you would not be "IN “my newly highlighted head has yet to sprouts roots.. She is correct, for today, for this week, for next week, I am not "with it", I have no roots. I say," I will be "IN “in two weeks".

Carol's root journey

roots week one- none week two, some darkness and fourth week-very "in" look

Well , I progressed to "in" just as I predicted and according to plan. As the few weeks in between highlighting appointments went along, I documented the changes in my hair-see above , most notably around what is termed "the part" where the new growth is most easily seen. I sometimes long for that color that I had as a child and for many years after. Once you live as a blond it is hard to give up. Although I did try red for a few months in 2005. I felt red was good-but it is a fleeting color-quick to dull and become cordovan. No one else liked it. I was not insulted when a coworker asked "Did you mean to do that?" One of my menopausal forays into change! A friend has prepared some photos of "root disguises" one which I want to share Now that is a real redhead!

Holidays, such as St. Paddy's Day, offer opportunities to cover new growth with feathers

An article in the NYTimes this week delineated how far we have come from the 3 shades available in the 1950"s- vanilla, chocolate and strawberry.

No wonder Kate Winslet was so miserable in Revolutionary Road.

Middle Age, Before It Came Out of a Bottle

By Patricia Cohen

Published: March 7, 2009

some excerpts:

"In the late 1950s and early 1960s, Clairol’s memorable campaigns for the new 20-minute treatments — “Does she or doesn’t she?”; “Is it true blondes have more fun?”; and “The closer he gets, the better you look” — did much to drain the taint and artificiality associated with hair dye. In advertisements, glamorous movie stars were replaced by unknown models portraying someone who resembled the slightly more attractive woman next door; someone like you."

Clairol slogans illustrated by me:

“Does she or doesn’t she?"

“Is it true blondes have more fun?”;

“The closer he gets, the better you look”

Liam is pondering his own deep questions

Are grey whiskers sexy?

will my girlfriends, Rosie, Molly, Kendl and Syd, like them?
Liam is hiding them-see below

I show him a pic of People mag's sexist man alive 2x, George Clooney

t

But some grey in the whiskers seems to be fine with that hunk George Clooney

and so, Liam proudly shows his grey whiskers above

Woof, Woof