I Am Walter's Father: Bou Breeds

Bouvier: Such a wonderfull breed. There are two attributes are missing from this reference. I have included them for your viewing pleasure.

Variegated Bouvier: This breed has spectacular patterns of black, grey, brown and white in it's hair. May include spots, stripes and swirls.

Baleen Bouvier: All bouviers, variegated or not, slowly metamorphose into baleen bouviers. The long fibres that surround their flesh are used to trap all manner of small edible items for later consumption.

I Am Walter's Father: And Hannah's Father Too

Not a lot to say on this one. Just some pics from the day before the Sammy Country Lime.

Hannah, she so bootiful!




Dog wrestling close to home.




The Dao of Dog: I just missed it with the shudder delay - they formed a perfect, tumbling yin-yang!



Does this haircut make my ass look big?



Mad dogs! Mad dogs! (They were having a grand time.)



Dogs with the rips.



When I have pics from the event, I'll post them too.

Life: Lightning DOES Strike Twice

Many people have ridden in many cabs. I have been in two cabs that were pulled over by the police. I'm standing on Victoria Park at Adair Rd, beside the second one.

The first was a long time ago, on the way home (to Hamilton) from a party (in the back-woods of Oakville) after a night clubbing (in Burlington) where I picked up (she was hideous (my "friends" should have beaten me - or maybe her - with a crowbar to stop that pick-up action)). I ended up at this party with her with no money and no way home. I collected travel funds from drunk and stoned people and left with a borrowed sweatshirt (the party was outside and it was cold).

As we rocketed down the QEW at 130km/h, I asked my cabbie, "Do the cops ever bother you?"

"No," he said. "We do our job and they do theirs."

Cherries.*

When the cop - an attractive woman - reached the driver side window she didn't give him the chance to ask what the problem was. She jammed her face in the car and snarled, "One twenty? I can accept 120. You blow past me at 30 over? Give me your license and registration!"

An hour later, approaching 5am, I drove the cab to Oakville (he had no license, registration or insurance - though he did have a court date for a DUI and another for a hit-and-run), and the next cabbie drove me to Hamilton for free. I ended up with $35, a sweatshirt, and a great story.

Today was much more blase, but there was a curious resonance. This cabbie was driving down Victoria Park like a manic. The cop pulled him over, angry, for going 20 over in a 50 zone. "I was passing, I was passing," the cabbie said.

"License and registration!"

sigh.

Of course his information was out of date, plates expired, insurance a photocopy with no back, the cab not operating legally for the day, etc..

This time it was simple: I told him to call me another cab. He did, and this time I had no romantic entanglements on the way.

___
* Flashing red lights behind us.

I Am Walter's Father: The Change

Walter and I share certain characteristics - long legs, long hair, collecting burrs...

Oh. Wait. That last one is all Wally.

His romping and rummaging in the underbrush is a joy to behold - and a horror to repair. He does NOT like being brushed but (again unlike papa), has no trouble with scissors.

...Foreshadowing not subtle enough?

It started with a few surgically removed burrs - mere skirmishes in the coming War. All too soon I realized that there was no middle ground: Walter Must Be Shorn or the Allies Would Die!

If the noise he makes while being brushed are any measure, he is big on hyperbole too - like father...

In my defense, he loves his new 'do, and it will look better after he goes to the groomers this week, and all I had
to work with was a squirming dog and small scissors. I couldn't get it all one length - some burrs were to the skin - but I think he looks pretty good.

You be the judge.

I Am Walter's Father: Wagons North

As a preface to the rant and gripe: this is a gripey rant.

It was a long drive to Mulmur. Normally a 2 -2.5h, the time was extended by:
a) being trapped behind an EVIL streetcar driver,
b) having to pull off the Gardner to push down the hood,
c) stopping in Caledon to get water and let the pups wander and widdle.

Each of these is a story in it's own right. The hood latch popped near the Yonge exit. I got out, but the first place I could stop safely was after the last on ramp downtown. Lakeshore was ok - even faster than the Gardner in spots, but still an extra 20 minutes. This, after sitting behind a streetcar driver who would open the doors and sit, no one getting on or off, for 30 - 60 seconds at each stop. People were going i n s a n e. Caledon was okay - just 1 person in line in front of me, with a dozen or so items, who took 10 minutes to finish paying.

One we finally arrived, the kids had a blast. Hannah and Walter rampaged across the land, exploring the tall grass, the gardens, the meadows. I pulled three burrs off Hannah's collar. Walter, on the other hand? I'm going to book Walter in for a shave on Monday or Tuesday. He h a t e s being brushed, and still squirms like crazy when I pull at the burrs, so I concentrate on the painful or hard-to-bite areas and leave the rest to him. He really does love the country!

Today is beautiful, windy, and autumnal. Leaves are changing, the air is crisp, and the sun low - beautiful light. The kids are romping again, chasing little tumbleweeds across the yard.

It's going to be a day full of work, setting up for the party. It will be a good day.

Until.

Future: Living La Vida Simulation

"Life is but a dream" is a fairy tale song, right?

Right?

Nick Bostrom, Director of the Future of Humanity Institute (Oxford University) has an interesting arguement about the nature of reality. The basic idea is simple: when you consider whether we are brain-in-a-bottle simulations or not, there are only three possibilities - and one of them must be true. It's an interesting perspective, and it might even be testable - which takes it from philosophy to science.

ABSTRACT. This paper argues that at least one of the following propositions is true: (1) the human species is very likely to go extinct before reaching a “posthuman” stage; (2) any posthuman civilization is extremely unlikely to run a significant number of simulations of their evolutionary history (or variations thereof); (3) we are almost certainly living in a computer simulation. It follows that the belief that there is a significant chance that we will one day become posthumans who run ancestor-simulations is false, unless we are currently living in a simulation. A number of other consequences of this result are also discussed.

Meta: A Blog About Blogging

If you've met me - and even if you haven't - you may have realized that it is rare that I have nothing to say.

This is true with this blog. My messages have been sparse, not for want of content, but for want of time to turn thoughts into content. For example, right now I am pounding my crackberry while waiting for a streetc-

Oop. It's here.

Bye!

I Am Walter's Father: Adventures in Walking

He's over 30 pounds now (actually, last Saturday).

This afternoon, I took Hannah and Walter over to the waterworks for a romp. In the leash-free, I had a brainwave: I attached a pink-and-black 'hydroball' to the end of Walter's leash while he romped. Hannah was barreling after the Kong while Walter assaulted the ball-onna-string. I swear, he thinks he's a cat.

Later, I took them down to the water. Hannah crashed steadily through the waves, out to the Wubba. Walter chased that same ball - now on the end of a long piece of twine - along the shore and into the water. He even started after Hannah a few times. Bouviers are certainly capable swimmers, but they are herding dogs, not retrievers. Walter is thrilled to chase anything close to the ground. He will sit quietly when I throw a ball - even if it hits his nose. He just doesn't see it.

Regardless, he was having a blast in the water, romping with other dogs, and generally loving life, when a big (my thigh high) wave walloped him. Hannah just powered through it. Walter somersaulted and came up sneezing. I immediately gave him kudos and loves for courage and tumbles - his little tail was working pretty hard when I was done. When I threw the ball he dove in after it without hesitation.

Later, he slipped on the boulders that make the water breaks on the Beach, and wedged himself in. He didn't cry or whimper or panic - though he did look quite confused, lying half on a rock, hind legs in space. He waited calmly while I climbed over him and lifted him out, and then ran around the wall of stone to join Hannah and I on the other side.

What a cute boy!

I Am Walter's Father: Just How Big Is He?

I've been neglectful - I have not been posting much about Walter. In fact, I have been informed that the lack of pictoral evidence of his existence is wildly inappropriate.

No more.

First, here's what he looks like when he amuses himself.



The question you're asking is: just how much has he grown? You may remember him back on day one - he practically fit in the palm of my hand. Now, he definitely will not.

He's become a big, beautiful boy, and he's still only about 1/3 his full growth.