YOUR ALASKAN MALAMUTE DOG SHANDAEL’S SASQUATCH IS 5 YEARS OLD TODAY!
On behalf of AKC Reunite, we want to wish SHANDAEL’S SASQUATCH a Happy Birthday!
Purebred show dogs have the breeder name in front. And I don’t think they were particularly happy with “Sasquatch” as a name.
Pretty weird it’s been 5 years. It was damn hard for the first couple, when he was just a ball of muscle and fur and energy and didn’t give a shit about doing what anyone wanted. I’ve had SOOO many interactions because of my dog. I hear a lot of stories. One reason I used to enjoy clubbing so much was to hear stories from people I didn’t regularly connect with. And alcohol makes that way easier. I’m quasi anti-social at the best of times, but as a writer, it is fuel to experience a broad range of weirdos. Or at least it makes writing easier.
Just yesterday, I was at the park and I had the misfortune of meeting a psycho basket case at the fringe of society. Not ten minutes later, I met some wonderful wealthy people at the top of society. All within the same walk. Those are humans I simply wouldn’t be able to connect with in nearly any other circumstance. Maybe if I worked at the post office or was a cop who moonlighted as a financial advisor.
As an aside, in one book by Raymond Chandler, the Long Goodbye, he has a writer living in Los Angeles just north of me. It’s some out-of-the-way community and the publisher complains that writers should be in the thick of it, soaking up new ideas, not sequestered away. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Long_Goodbye_(novel)#Background But it’s hard. You need the silence to actually write and put together works of fiction. I’m in my own head a lot because that’s where ideas happen, and I can’t do that if I’m having conversations 24/7.
I don’t have any kids and will never have kids. Other peoples’ kids are great, but not for me. Dogs are stupid toddlers who will never grow up. As stubborn as my dog is, he still thinks I’m a fucking wizard. I can make food appear out of thin air.
As I get older, it’s also important to stay healthy-ish. I played soccer for decades, long after I should have quit because momentum and physics had overtaken my ability to counteract them. It’s been El Nina wet and cold outside and I’m walking my dog. Last time it was like that, and I’m dragging along in my rubber ducky jacket and rubberized pants, the only other humans I see are dog walkers. TWICE, I’ve seen joggers. We have a lot of pro athletes around me, LA Lakers and LA Kings. Every once in a while I’ll see some dude jog by who is in freakishly good shape and 6’8″ and running on the concrete like he was born to run. Well, good for him at 26 years old, but us mere humans need help. Get a working breed dog. You’ll work.
It’s been a tough ride up and down of dog town. And I’m not trying to say he’s a child or anywhere as difficult. He’s not. But he’s about all I can handle and it’s a lot of fun.
