January 2, 2002
Time flies when you're a dog
By Guest Columnist CORKEY
Pet of the Herald editor
Unfathomable how fast 365 days can fly - especially when 12 months equal seven years. For the mathematically challenged, and humans everywhere, it's a dog thing, you wouldn't get it.
It seems like yesterday I was chewing through newspaper reports of guns, generators and canned green beans flying off the shelf. Funny, while I breathe through my mouth and walk on all fours, you didn't see me stockpiling Milkbones for Y2K. Humans ... can't live without them, not if you want the Dog Chow opened.
Today, the dawn of the 21st century breaks the horizon. Today is January 2, 2002; a new year but the same old dog's life.
Call it animal instinct but canines rarely wax nostalgic. We tend to live in the moment, especially if that particular interval of time involves peanut butter. Mmmm ... peanut butter. However, in the spirit of the human holiday known as New Year's - which also seems to include conspicuous consumption of alcohol and corporate-sponsored college football - there are several things I'll remember about 2001.
- My birthday. I turned three years old on June 4 and to mark this momentous occasion I received a bowl of dry dog food. Yipee. Oh, I did get a squeaky toy, which would be fine if I was actually three years old, but I'm 21.
A milestone like this deserves a shot (not a rabies vaccination thank you very much) and a Calico cat chaser. Sure I played with the plastic hot dog, but I wouldn't wear the dunce birthday cap.
- Summer vacation. While others in our household were whooping it up out West this summer guess who stayed home? Actually, I spent the two weeks playing with my golden retriever girlfriends over at their house, which is better than being relegated to flying coach with Samsonites and golf clubs.
While I normally carry sticks, not grudges, I'm still perturbed about the utter lack of a souvenir. I would have settled for a "My humans walked the Grand Canyon and all I got was this lousy four-legged T-shirt." Not that I would have worn it in public mind you. Even a postcard would have been a nice thought and a delicious snack.
- Bath time and hanging out in the basement. This year I had my nails trimmed, fur washed and blown dry, teeth cleaned and little bows put in my hair four times. Thankfully, I didn't run into that cute golden down the street until after I found fresh turkey excrement in our backyard. I also got to hang out in the basement and watch Animal Planet 96 times this year - not that I'm counting.
In regards to all the New Year's Eve hoopla, I spent the last night of 2001 with my humans watching some ball drop in Times Square. Talk about a lame way to ring in the new year, that ball didn't bounce once. Oh well, at least I made my own midnight toast while drinking out of the toilet bowl.
Now dogs don't usually make New Year's resolutions since we are not inbred with the instinct of self-improvement through self-guilt. However, since I'm paid in kibble by the word, I've decided to make my own list of resolutions for 2002. They are, in no particular order:
- finish reading "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" instead of sleeping away the day while my humans are at work.
- take my Homo sapiens for a walk at least twice a day.
- stop and smell the flowers, not just eat them.
- always put others before myself by licking them first.
- bark even louder at the evil incarnated UPS delivery truck as a warning to all who would be smite down by this angel of death.
- give those around me a reason to smile - pant and slobber more.
If you are truly seeking a happy new year, remember the following: when loved ones come home, always run to greet them, take naps and always stretch before rising, and allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy. Simply put, it's a dog thing. Hopefully, unlike the verses to "Auld Lang Syne," you'll remember these words all year long.
Corkey's owner, Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva, can be reached at 933-1416 or e-mail gleiva@gtherald.com