Call Me Hank

[Editor's note: Due to technical difficulties (like, say, a busted camera) posts are infrequent at this site right now. As a result, this blog has been hijacked by the family dog.]



Actually, nobody calls me Hank. These people always call me Henry. I just want to make a few things clear about myself.

I am a Rhodesian Ridgeback, but I lack the defining feature of my breed because I have no ridge of fur running along my back. My owners (I tend to refer to them as these people) found out that I cost half as much as most Ridgebacks because I have no ridge. So they jumped in their truck and drove south, for an entire day, into northern California to get me. They had no children at the time, so a jaunt like that was no big deal.

My pedigree is interesting to look at. I have a great, great, great, great grandfather named Spoor of the Cheetah. No joke. I also have a great-great-great named Honky Tonk Hero, and another named Ruffian's Reviewer. These last two ancestors disturb me a little, because they appear several times on my mother and my father's side, which proves I am extremely inbred. My mistress claims that explains a lot about me.

Rhodesian Ridgebacks were bred in South Africa by Boer farmers. As the story goes, these Dutch, German and Huguenot people migrated to South Africa in the 16th and 17th centuries and brought their European dogs, but their dogs didn't thrive in the new environment. So, they bred a native dog (with a distinctive ridge along its back) with certain European dogs. The new breed withstood Africa's drastic seasonal climate changes and obnoxious insects, and had enough stamina to run long distances after game. The hunters even used the dogs to chase lions, and hold them at bay.

Despite my impressive pedigree and the grand history of my breed, I am at heart just a family hound. What you need to know about me can, really, be summarized with a few bullet points:

• I love butter.
• My flatulence shouldn't offend you. You would do it, too, if you ate Atta Boy.
• Linoleum and tile are not proper vomiting surfaces. Only carpet will do.
• I adore these people, in a very doggy sort of way.

Tough Times?

This morning, I lay on a table while a chiropractor (you heard me) worked on my shoulders, which are improperly hunched forward, and my neck, which is ramrod-stiff and painful. As he worked he said to me, out of the blue, "This recession had better end soon!" I said something like, "Yep."

Now, he's the umpty-millionth person I've talked to about this economic downturn. It's on all our minds. Add to this the fact that the world's food surplus has dwindled to dangerously low levels, and producing this food is becoming more and more difficult. Ask your average farmer or keeper of livestock. It's a wonder more of us aren't walking around with stiff necks and bowed shoulders. So this afternoon I read some Bible verses that seem to fit the situation nicely. I also read some notes on the verses in the Believer's Bible Commentary by William MacDonald.

Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labor of the olive shall fail, an the fields shall yield no food; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls; Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation. The Lord God is my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds' feet, and he will make me walk upon mine high places. Habakkuk 3:17-19

Habakkuk, the prophet who wrote this, had just learned that a bloodthirsty Chaldean named Nebuchadnezzar was going to plunder and decimate Jerusalem and carry his nation away captive, so his situation seemed pretty bleak as well. But McDonald's commentary (page 1146) quotes J. Sidlow Baxter, who, obviously, knew Hebrew:

The literal is "I will jump for joy in the Lord; I will spin around for delight in God." Here is the hilarity of faith! - joy at its best with circumstances at their worst! What a victory! May it be ours!

Costco Jacket Brotherhood

Has anyone else noticed the Costco Jacket, and how many men are wearing them? To me, this article of clothing represents a total rebellion from today's girlie-man fashion. This jacket shouts a big, booming "NO WAY, DUDE" to men's designer jeans and other post-modern sartorial nightmares.

This jacket is all about function and versatility. As these photos attest, the wearer can perform multiple tasks in a variety of environments. My cousin D even languished for a bit in a solitary confinement cell in the now-defunct Idaho State Penitentiary, comforted only by a crust of bread and his jacket. Our friend E (who owns four Costco jackets), donned a long-hair wig with his jacket and tried to levitate the Pentagon. Another friend, whom we'll call Walla-Walla D, shoveled snow from his driveway in Eastern Washington, snug in his jacket.

The Spouse, who points out that another of the jacket's fine features is it's price ($20!) does all manner of outdoor work and automotive repair in his jacket. I've stolen it occasionally, when I need to grab firewood from the porch.

To me, the Costco jacket is a completely masculine item. Is there a piece of women's clothing that is equally warm, soft, practical, comfortable and can be worn attractively in public? I'm not complaining about women's fashion at all. I'm just saying that this one belongs to the men.

Many thanks to all of you who shared jacket photos.