We tried Search and Rescue again today, and it didn’t go the way I expected.
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To foster Sparky’s intellectual development, we started a new training exercise. It’s really just hide-and-seek, but Sparky likes it better if we call it search-and-rescue. He wants me to get him an orange vest that says, “RESCUE DOG”. I reminded him that dogs can’t see the color orange, but he doesn’t care.
Newsweek: Norovirus surge is worst in a decade.
This is slanderous. Why do we put up with such chicanery?
The norovirus is stomach flu. It causes intestinal distress for a couple of days.
The “noro” prefix refers to Norwalk, Ohio.
From Wikipedia:
In the United States, it is the cause of about half of all foodborne disease outbreaks. The virus is named after the city of Norwalk, Ohio, US, where an outbreak occurred in 1968.
Now come on, stomach flu wasn’t invented in Norwalk. That outbreak wasn’t noteworthy in any way, but some wag decided to denigrate a small Ohio town, and nobody did anything about it.
Covid started in Wuhan, China. It killed millions of people, but can’t call it the China flu because that would be racist. Norovirus is fine.
The fact that a bio-lab in Wuhan, China did just that kind of virus research, the lab protocols were known to be sloppy, everyone was called a conspiracy theorist for asking the question, and now, nobody cares where the virus originated, suggests it came from the Wuhan Lab. Why not call it the Wuhan flu?
Recall that initially, it was called a corona virus because it resembled a corona. Everyone thought that sounded sciencey, but the Corona beer people weren’t happy. We settled on Covid-19.
Norwalk should be known for it’s raceway, not for a common stomach flu.
I’m a sick puppy. My actual puppy is good as new. Sparky had been snorting quite a bit, but I gave him a can of Campbell’s chicken soup for breakfast, and that did the trick.
Sparky may never have actually been sick, but I am. It’s just a regular head cold, but I haven’t had one for several years. Covid was a socially distancing psyop, then I retired, so there wasn’t much exposure.
I’m in the darkest days of the head cold. That means I sleep, but not well. I’m impatient with TV or audio books. I don’t want to read anything. The repetitive nature of my photo digitizing project is appealing. I also may feel like generating some rambling posts.
I’ve been scanning and organizing old photos.
A year after I started at Caterpillar, management sent me to a week-long SLAM training course in Chicago. Turns out that a random bunch of engineers can be a lot of fun.
I’ve been scanning and organizing old photos.
The photo on the left was from a balloon festival in Columbia, South Carolina in 1985. It’s not a scanning problem, the photo looks like that. I don’t know if it always did, or got that reddish tint with age.
Film photography relies on chemical processes. The photographer could add filters to get an effect like this, but the developing process also influenced the final photo. Serious photographers developed their own film to get the desired result. Over time, those chemicals may degrade.
Without knowing much about GIMP software, selecting the “White Balance” significantly improved the photo. Some color was lost on the more distant balloon, but overall, I prefer the photo on the right.
This time, I thought Sparky’s argument was really weak, and I had some complaints of my own.
Sparky’s complaint is that sometime when he’s on my lap, I am distracted, looking at the computer, or not petting him or giving him my full attention.
That’s not fair. “Sparky, I’m doing all the work. You’re just laying there, not moving, hell, you could be asleep. You aren’t paying attention at all.”
Sparky says that’s okay, because his eyes aren’t closed and he is like a hundred times cuter than I am, and just showing up is it’s own reward.
Sparky wants to know why I just automatically assume that I got the cold from him. I have been out to all sorts of places, and he just stays home for no reason. So I probably got the cold and got Sparky sick.
Sparky felt that there was no reason to not take him to Christmas Eve at Aunt Joanne’s house. Sparky is certain that she hid more toys for him to find, and now she has to find them all by herself. Sparky is concerned that there may be more sneaky animals living upstairs, and he should at least try to make friends with them.
He was partially mollified when I told him that guy would be there. The guy who sits in his seat in my truck, and talks to him like he’s a retard.
Fine, but why couldn’t he visit Spunky on Christmas? I reminded him that when we visit Uncle Davy, there are never any crumbs on the floor, I would have to pet Spunky and Cooper, and they have those stupid hard chew toys that dogs can’t even eat. Yeah, fine.
How about Costco? Sparky doesn’t know what Costco is, but he’s heard about Costco hotdogs and he likes being a hot dog, so what’s the problem? Why didn’t I take him? I told him that going to Costco isn’t like going to Tractor Supply. At Costco, there are many more customers walking around, not paying attention, and they wouldn’t even care if they stepped on a dog. That’s where Cruella De Vil works.
Sparky admitted it might have been for the best, and I conceded that I might have gotten the cold first.
Sparky generously acknowledged that if we ever got the plague, bird flu, or botflies, he would probably be patient zero.
Sparky is offended by the assumption that I got my cold from him.
Oh yeah, he finally got about of bed around noon. That gave me time to consider adapting my cold mitigation protocol for him.
For breakfast, I gave him a can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup. It’s the regular chicken soup, the kind you only have when you’re sick. Not the good, chunky, kind with chicken and dumplings, or broccoli and cheese.
I was going to give him just a half-can, but there is nothing in that stuff, but broth and noodles. He got the whole can, diluted with water. Sparky lapped it up with no regrets.
Don’t give me that bit about there being too much salt for dogs. Sparky and I don’t go for that new age jibber-jabber. If I can eat it, then Sparky can too. It doesn’t go both ways, and that is where Sparky takes umbrage.
Sparky thinks I should at least try goose shit or raccoon tail. I am unpersuaded. He says that I don’t value his perspective.
That led to other issues that we had to hash out.
I don’t even know if that’s possible, but with viruses, something isn’t possible until it happens, or everything is possible all the time.
Just days after the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) issued a new order that all raw (unpasteurized) milk must be tested for bird flu, reports have emerged of animals dying of the virus.
In Los Angeles County, the public health department is investigating the deaths of two cats that reportedly consumed recalled raw milk.
After drinking the milk, the felines displayed symptoms that included lack of appetite, fever and neurologic issues, according to a press release from the Los Angeles County Department of Public Health.
That just doesn’t sound plausible. Cows don’t even like birds. Haven’t I seen articles about how milk shouldn’t be given to cats? It’s sounds like fake news so the USDA can hassle people about drinking raw milk. Isn’t it more likely that the cat ate a sick bird?
In the last couple of days, Sparky has been snorting quite bit. Not an animal snort, that can mean anything, but a people snort. The rapid inhale through the nose, while raising the head, to clear the sinuses.
When Sparky snorts, it’s pitiful. He has to stop, looks down, and aggressively snorts several times. He can’t keep walking or do anything else when he snorts. It’s heart-breaking because I want to help, but there’s nothing I can do.
It’s like watching your girlfriend vomit. You hold her hair and murmur something supportive because the entire situation is humiliating and you’d like to make it less uncomfortable.
Sparky sniffs with reckless abandon. It’s surprising that he doesn’t suck up more debris and have to sneeze or snort all the time. He doesn’t. Most of our friends have never seen him snort.
Yesterday, he was snorting pretty often. This morning, after he got out of bed, we chatted for a bit, went out for a piss, and he went back to bed. That’s very unusual. Typically, he would lay by the wood stove and dog nap.
So, Sparky and I have a cold. At least that’s my conclusion. Sparky won’t mope or complain about it as much as I will.