Full circle

He's 15. Blind. Confused. Somewhat incontinent. Shaky. Very little of the spunky, fiery personality he had is left. But he's still with us and seems to some of life's pleasures. Clearly, though, the end is not too far off.

As I walked him this morning -- in the bitter cold -- hoping to get him to go to the bathroom outside, he straggled behind and frequently stopped, causing me (accidentally) to drag him. When he walked, it was as slow as he could go without falling over.

Frustration gripped me, the cold increased the tenseness in my muscles. "Come on, Fritz, just go to the bathroom already!"

Then it hit me. I flashed back to his days when he was in "Puppy Kindergarten" class at one of the local big box pet stores. It was Spring 1995 and I was still living at home. He was the cutest little puppy, a ton of fun, a bit aggressive, but very likable. I loved him and I was glad to take him to obedience training just to spend time with him.

Even though he graduated, he was a poor student. While other puppies dutifully walked in the circle on their leashes, Fritz would dig in his heels and make me drag him. The instructor -- a lady I cared for not at all, who had an obvious dislike of Mini Schnauzers -- insisted that I drag him until he capitulated and would walk at my side. During the walk sessions, he spent more time on his back legs and butt than on all fours. It was particularly funny when he did this to the instructor. I felt a bond with him; I was glad he was sticking it to the teacher.

He was pretty easy to house train. But there were accidents he had in the house as a puppy. It was typically my job to clean up his messes. I didn't like it but I understood that it takes puppies time to learn the ropes.

The flashback left me with a love and warmth for this animal that I had forgotten was there. I felt sorry that he is moving toward the end of his life, that he's physically failing and that he doesn't have the vibrance he did a decade ago. I felt a little guilty for worrying about the inside of the house and for dragging him out in the bitter cold. I remembered that old dogs can't necessarily control when and where they go to the bathroom. That's no longer a luxury they have.

I was happy and sad to remember him as he had been. I was glad he's still here but questioned whether or not that should be the case. I was thankful that he has given my family all those years of unconditional love, companionship and entertainment.

Most surprisingly, I realized how much the end looks like the beginning.

Life on hold

The hobbies and things I love the most: writing, exercising, playing bass, and reading have all been on hold the last few weeks. Why? Because the Detroit Red Wings are in the playoffs. They're sucking up a lot of my free time. I love it but I feel disconnected from my routines.

The problem isn't just that there are games to watch, but that the damned games (3 of them) have started after 10:00 p.m. Craziness. I've stayed up until 2:00 a.m. or later 3 times in the last week or so. It just throws off everything.

I write about sports a fair amount on this blog, but I'm actually not a huge sports fan, at least not compared to a lot of guys these days. There are men that do nothing but watch sports every night of the week. I try to keep time for my family, Church and hobbies and keep sports watching to a minimum. But when the Red Wings are in the playoffs or MSU's in March Madness, I have to watch. I just can't pull myself away from the games. I make all the sacrifices I can to see every play.

The Red Wings are playing game 7 of the Western Conference semi-finals tonight and the winner moves onto the conference finals. Tonight's game is huge. I just have to see it, no matter how rusty I'm getting on bass or how little sleep I will get. And I won't regret it at all.

Random stuff I don't understand (Part 1)

Braille at drive-up ATMs -- Drive-up ATMs are always situated so that the driver's side of the vehicle has access to the screen and keypad. So why do they almost always have information on them in Braille? If a person is so vision impaired that he or she must read in Braille, what is he or she doing driving? Walk-up ATMs are a different story, altogether.

Handicapped parking spots at a fitness center -- I know, I know. At least in our state, all public places that have parking must allot a specific number of spots for handicapped parking. For nearly every public place out there, that law makes sense. We want disabled people to have easy access to public places. But that makes little or no sense at a gym.

The gym to which I belong has has 4 handicapped spots in front of and to each side of the front door. There is no elevator inside the building but it is a two story facility. If you want to use the second floor, you have to be able to get up the steps. Otherwise you're stuck either using treadmills and stairclimbers, weights or the swimming pool.

Whatever the case may be, if you are in the gym it is to exercise. If you can exert yourself enough to get into the pool or up the stairs, you can walk or wheel yourself from anywhere in the parking lot. If you can't move an extra 50 feet is there anything you can do in the gym? I'm not blasting handicapped folks or begrudging them a good parking spot, just wondering what the point is in parking right next to the door of a fitness center.

There will be more brilliant observations from me *wink* as I make them.

Phoniness or respectful?

I've been reminded lately of my tendency to talk about the same issue one way with a certain group and another way with another group. When speaking to group A, I might be really harsh and express my feelings unequivocally. I might even come off as offensive to others with different opinions. But discussing that same topic with group B, I might dance around the issue a bit, suppress my feelings. I certainly lay off some of the stronger language or rhetoric.

Am I a phony? Perhaps. I'm willing to admit that I am flawed.

I'd like to think, though, that I'm being respectful of both groups A and B. It's not that my feelings or beliefs are different, I just present them in more delicate ways depending on the circumstances.

I feel conflicted by this tendency in me. I've done this all my life. Maybe it's a positive character trait and not a flaw, but part of me tells me that I'm dishonest.

Whatever the case may be, I'm not going to force a change. I'm not going to be that guy that people don't want coming around because he's an overbearing, opinionated bore.

Hurtling toward eternity

Each tick of the clock takes us closer to the end of our all too short stay on earth.

Tick...tick...tick...

Each breath we take is one breath less in the final tally.

In...out...in...out...

Each beat of the heart, the muscle grows weaker.

bum-bump...bum-bump...bum-bump.

The minute I was born I started to die.

Today looks like yesterday. I can't tell that the end is coming, but I know that it will...eventually.

My life is a sentence in an encyclopedia set -- no, a punctuation mark! I'm one song on the radio. Begins. Ends. Done.

"Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity."

Am I making the most of my time? Have I lived in vain? What have I left -- will I leave -- on the table?