"Nonya"

For the past month, I've had a cast on my right foot. It will be there for about 3 more weeks. Eight years ago I wore a cast on my left foot, hopped around on crutches, and was completely astounded that despite numerous signs and claims of special features, it was very difficult to function as a person with limited mobility. Doors that did not automatically open were often to heavy for me to manage on my own. Handicapped accessible bathrooms were never in convenient locations. And there were many other obstacles. This time around I was astonished by how little progress has been made in almost a decade. I still needed a lot of help/intervention to get in and out of buildings, including the one where my doctor's office is! But what really shocked me was not the kindness of strangers, but their curiosity. Many wished me a speedy recovery, but most whom I encountered wanted to know what happened to me. Did I break my ankle or my leg? Was I in an accident or a fight? What condition was the other person in? I don't mind sharing with close friends, but complete strangers in restaurants, at the airport, in the library, on the street, and just about everywhere else wanted the gory details. Just because they were nosey and rude, didn't mean I should be impolite. I tried to give the simplest answer possible when all I really wanted to say was, "Nonya," as in none of your business!

What about Me?!

Cashmere has not so subtly informed me that this blog is full of pictures of Kamir, Bandit, and Riko, but her presence has not been recorded. I guess she's more technologically-savvy than I thought. My response that she usually runs from the camera was not a sufficient explanation for the lack of her pictures. So, here goes... Here she is under the bed. She's gained 20 pounds in the five years since she left the shelter, yet somehow still fits under the bed. Posing for a change. Like all dogs, Cash loves a good nap.

Woman Crashes when Teaching Dog to Drive

From the Associated Press: Mon Aug 28, 8:13 AM ET A woman in Hohhot, the capital of north China's Inner Mongolia region, crashed her car while giving her dog a driving lesson, the official Xinhua News Agency said Monday. No injuries were reported although both vehicles were slightly damaged, it said. The woman, identified only be her surname, Li, said her dog "was fond of crouching on the steering wheel and often watched her drive," according to Xinhua. "She thought she would let the dog 'have a try' while she operated the accelerator and brake," the report said. "They did not make it far before crashing into an oncoming car." Xinhua did not say what kind of dog or vehicles were involved but Li paid for repairs. Kamir enjoyed the car too, but I knew when to stop. He had no thumbs; how would he grip the steering wheel?

Is it Ego or Inequality?

I often accompany my boss on official meetings and the press is usually there when we arrive. I've gotten used to seeing my profile in the pictures that run in the papers, and really did not think much of never being identified by name. I work in a relatively small community and those who pay attention to what my boss does know and recognize me. I've actually enjoyed the quasi-anonymity. In the past week, however, someone on my staff, a new arrival to the office, accompanied my boss on a meeting. His picture made the papers as did his name and MY title. And it got me wondering: my boss is usually accompanied by someone to take notes when he goes on meetings, and if the person is a man, he's named. It's only the women who are not acknowledged. Is this an intentional oversight? Or am I just delusional?

Welcoming Riko

Kamir's loss was devastating and Cashmere convinced me that the house was a little too quiet with the pitter-patter of four instead of eight feet. So, we drove out into the desert to a shelter run by the Animal Friends League of Kuwait. After "interviewing" dozens of dogs, we came home with Riko, formerly known as Ringo. (I like the Beatles as much as everyone else, but I could not deal with the name.) Riko, who also answers to Ri-Ri B, is part German Shepherd part desert dog. He was born in May 2005 and until he joined us, had spent his whole life in the shelter. His first week in the house he was very curious, watching TV, taking things off of shelves, and "tasting" anything that crossed his path. I lost a rebate check, a house slipper, and a bottle of lotion.

He has really calmed down after that introductory exploratory stage. He has commandeered my bed and spends most of his time there. He only leaves it to bark at the phone, eat (he has a really light appetite), and go for a walk. Mostly, he's quite mellow and just wants to have his tummy scratched. Cash enjoys his company and when not trying to dominate him, curls up next to him for very long naps.

In Memory of Kamir

Kamir Brown, constant companion, guardian, and rascal, died Monday, June 5, 2006 in Kuwait. He was 15 ½ years old. He is survived by his sister Cashmere, a doting family, and lots of friends. He was buried at Al Thurya Farm in Abdaly, Kuwait where he spent many weekends doing his favorite things: sniffing and peeing.

Kamir was born in October 1990 in Conakry, Guinea in West Africa. He spent the first two years of his life in Guinea where he made the transition from wild street dog to spoiled house dog. After Guinea, he spent two years in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia where he developed a taste for injera (traditional Ethiopian bread) and learned that it is best to stay far away from ostriches and hyenas. He returned to the states in 1995, where he spent the next eight years of his life living a typical suburban existence where he enjoyed walks in the park, doggie cafes, and obedience/socialization school. He moved to Tunisia in 2003 where he discovered that the ruins of Carthage were ideal places to leave his mark and made clear that the he preferred city streets to Mediterranean beaches. He spent the last two years of his life in Kuwait and enjoyed the hot summers which must have been good for his arthritis. He is deeply missed. Woofs of Wisdom from Kamir: Vegetables are a good thing. (He was fond of broccoli, especially cream of broccoli soup.)

Most of life’s problems can be solved with a good nap, a car ride, or the companionship of good friends.

The best thing about weekends is waffles.

If you can’t actually exercise, at least thinking

about it is a good start. Always make time for a treat.

In Loving Memory

Bandit January 2, 1992 - March 27, 2006

We recently lost a very good friend, a devoted companion, a true member of the family. Bandit, after a sudden and devastating illness, died March 27, 2006. We all miss him.

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Bandit joined the family in July 1992, a few weeks after my father died. My sister, niece, and I adopted him because we were worried about our mother being home alone. The day we got Bandit, we actually went to the kennel to adopt a dog we had previously seen. He was gone and Bandit barked and barked and barked, making sure he got our attention. After 5 minutes with him, we were in love and signed the papers to take him home. By the time we finished the adoption process, it was too late to take him home before picking up our mother from work. The entire drive to her office, Bandit was on the floor of the car, shaking in fear. While we waited for Mommie to exit, he stayed quiet. The moment she walked out of the building, he stuck his head out of the window and barked. And barked and barked and barked. Mommie froze. From a distance we could see she was not pleased. She walked slowly to the car and like Bandit had been on the ride to the office, was silent for the ride home.

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Bandit got off to a rocky start. Mommie complained that he smelled, called him dog until I named him, and had him in the dog house, literally and figuratively, because he chewed on her shoes, the door, and anything else he could find. My sister and I were on stand-by for months to rescue Bandit because Mommie repeatedly threatened to get rid of him. Slowly and steadily, however, he worked his way into her heart. He earned his keep when his barking alerted her to a tea kettle that was starting to smoke and burn. That instance Bandit saved both his and Mommie's life.

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Since then, Bandit has been Mommie's constant companion. He's traveled the world visiting me in Ethiopia, Tunisia, and Kuwait. He's seen both coasts of the U.S. and many of the states in between. He's recognized at the bank, the post office, the gym, and countless other places. He's made many people smile. And the memory of his antics -- constant barking, digging, and "speaking"-- will continue to make us smile in appreciation of his short time with us.

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We miss and love you, Bandit boy.

Kamir and Cashmere send licks.

Beauty Is Skin Deep

There's an old expression, recently reinvigorated by Judge Judy, that "beauty fades, dumb is forever." The number of commercials that I see on satellite for fade creams simply reinforces this. I can understand seeking treatment for discoloring scars, but I just don't get the need or the desire to lighten one's skin. I scream every time I see the Fair & Lovely commercial in which the young woman gets her dream job on TV after she bleaches her skin. I'm even more irked by a commercial on CNN International in which a former Miss World or some other silly title-holder and current UN special rep for something (and also an African woman) touts fade cream. And most troubling, I was at a bazaar recently and a woman came up to me to hawk cream that could make my skin "white and beautiful." I was so shocked that I was absolutely speechless. And I was frightened by the "pink nipple cream." When people of color are the majority on this planet, why is there such a desire to lighten skin? What about the health ramifications? Most of the products contain mercury and other harmful ingredients and the damage they cause is irreversible.