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Puppy Dreams

We had an interesting alarm clock last night around two in the morning.  mooseFrom a deep sleep, Jess and I were jolted awake to howling.  This time, it wasn’t me doing something strange in my sleep, it was Moose.  Apparently, Moose was having a bad dream or a dream where near a fire engine siren.

I said, “Moose!” and he woke up and blinked a couple times, obviously just as confused as I was; he recoiled himself and went back to bed.

We couldn’t get mad at the dog for that, with out heartrates racing, we had a good laugh and went back to bed.  Just for the record, howling is not a good thing to wake up to.

…and the stuffing shall flow like wine…

Seeing as Moose rapidly tore through his lion and then subsequently an elephant (so quickly, I didn’t even get to take a picture of it)… we finally broke out his squeaky beaver.  All plump and furry, he couldn’t help but nuzzle the hell out it.  Almost two days in he hasn’t even disrupted a moist little hair on his snuggle buddy.

Of course, he is still prancing to and fro with it, placing it on his pillow and even setting it right next to his food dish when he eats–which is incredibly gross seeing as much as that dog drools and drops when he eats.  I had initially thought that the beaver wouldn’t make its debut until close to the civil war, but with those sorrowful brown eyes peeking up at me from underneath his cockeyed ear… how could I say no.  Plus, I’ll get some pre-civil war game pictures of a Great Dane mauling a beaver.   Christmas comes early:

The Moose, the Lion and the Wardrobe

This past weekend, Jess and I were over in the ‘Burn for my mom’s birthday weekend extravaganza spectacular.  Of which it lived up to its name.  While we were there my mom was trying to pawn off some of their new toys that they have for their dog Tolley.  Now don’t get me wrong, Tolley is a wonderful dog and deserves every little thing he gets, but that dog is spoiled rotten.  There are hidden caches of toys that would normally go to kids, but no, they are reserved for the furry among us.  These toys are stuffed animals, ranging from squirrels and birds, to beavers and stretched out puppies.  Graciously, my parents offered us a couple of toys for Moose because he loves Tolley’s toy so much (he seems to love them more when Tolley has them… or at least loves the opportunity to take them away from him).

Moose came home with a lion that sort of roars and laughs, and a beaver that squeaks.  Ever since we got home, Moose has been completely enthralled and enamored with his lion.  From the moment it came out of the bag, he has been carrying it around gingerly, being very gentle (except for the times when he tries to pluck out the hair of its mane).  When it roars/laughs he bounces around the room then runs into the dinning room and back again, and I mean literally, every time.  When he’s leaned up against the coach and starts to feel tired, his head dropping to the floor, he still doesn’t release his beloved lion.  It sits comfortably (and moistly) in his mouth.

Moose also puts the lion to bed.  I thought it was just an accident at first, but this lion has more rights to Moose’s beds than Moose gives himself.  On the first night that Moose had his lion, I noticed that it was sitting in the middle of his bed in the living room, I figured that it was merely dropped or kicked there.  Then, when I was getting read for bed, I walked into the bedroom to see Moose drop his lion onto his bed and then circle around it.  This was all very cute and funny until the middle of the night when he would shift his weight and we would hear, “ahhhhh ROOOOOAAAAAAAR AHA HAHA HAHAHA!”  It took me at least three times to figure out what it was.  Even tonight, Moose plopped his moist little love-buddy down and circled up in bed.  But what can I say, everyone needs to find that special someone… for some of us, it’s a three inch moist talking lion.

don’t know nothing ’bout the why or when but I can tell that it’s bound to be

The Countdown starts today.Five months from today begins the official look for a dog


…until this trash-can dream comes true

well, it is now obvious that that I’m no Jinky Wells II– I’ll just stop trying to be what I’m not: a teddy bear. Well, here’s to button eyes.I think everyone should slow down their lives for me. With everyone getting houses, spouses, and other things that rhymes with house or spouse. Mouses, I guess. Everyone’s adult lives makes me want to stop being in school. Stupid school. I’m tired. I want a house. and a dog. but mostly a dog.

Anyway, I am back at good ol’ Thurston High– yup, there all day, the workin’ man’s duration, minus the pay. or any pay at all. I find myself so extremely tired come the end of the school day, that lately I’ve come back home and sleep for three hours… before my bedtime.

Once again, I digress. The real intention of this post is to set this Derek vs. Derek thing to a rest. So please take a moment and vote on the poll on who is the real Derek. Can’t we all just be Derek?


the road to Ensenada was plenty wide and fast

Back into the throws of school, or at least high school.Things I must to do:
-Find somewhere to live (apartment manager)
-Apply to the Special Education Department to get another master’s degree
-Fold and put away my laundry
-Make up new unit/lesson plans
-Hike more
-Exercise more
-Start my novel

I’ll pick one to do, the rest can expect the wayside.

Ashland was amazingly good. I think I could run out my days hiking and having fish ‘n’ chips. Not at once, that would be over-stimulating.

By the way, my next must have


Never have to worry ’bout what is worse, what is best

Heat and homework have left me to this. I can’t wait to be done with school, all grown up like–staying up as late I want, eating all the junk food that I can handle. I could get my own apartment in NYC, and I could work for a game company starting out working computers and then do a little playing around in the toystore and then get bumped into toy research and development. Oh wait, that was Big, and I’m no Tom Hanks… maybe an older Kevin Kline from Life as a House, not the Kevin Kline of Wild Wild West.

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I think the greatest missing factor of my life is the constant, uncomplicated, affection and love of a big dog. Need me one. or three.

…I’ve got an answer: I’m going to fly away…

Max, my black lab of 11 years was put to sleep this morning. One of the saddest moments of my young life. What can I say, I truly feel that I have lost a companion who has been by my side since I was 9 years old. This dog had seen me through more life than most people around me. Absolutely loyal and loving, everything someone could ask for in a friend. I know that after I finish writing this that I will head to the bed that is in my old room, carefully stepping to make sure I don’t accidentally step on Max. The routine that revolved around him was so very comforting and I only realize this now, this seems to be a theme in deaths.
I will miss being woken up in the middle of the night because Max was getting up to sleep closer to me because I had shifted in my sleep. I will miss that any time I touched the car keys I would hear the jingle of his collar has he bounded for me hoping for his “car ride.” The very utterance of the word “car ride” would send Max into a furry or running and tail wagging. I will miss the whistle from his nose I as we drove down I5 bringing me back to school or even how he would wedge his head in between my shoulder and the wall of the car. I was never quite sure why he did that, I just know that I liked it… maybe that is why he did it.
I will miss how on some days Max would never leave my side. I will miss how great of a pillow Max was, when I’d get a little lonely I’d just lay down with him, my head on his side just listening his chest rise and fall with every breath. I miss that from here on out when I get situated in bed, I won’t see Max sitting right beside me, his face full of anticipation because he knows that as soon as I say “come on up” he’ll be to sleep next to me on my soft bed. I miss that every time that I would enter a room that Max was in, you could hear the thunderous thumping of Max’s tail. Even in his last few hours he tried to maintain that same thumping, but it had been softened by his condition but I knew he meant for it to be just as loud as it had always been.

Every time I walked into the kitchen today, I was looking out the window to see if I could catch the back and forth motion of a tail or the brown eyes peeking just over the bottom of the window. Sitting in the living room today I turned my head and briefly out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw Max coming to sit by me, but it was only a shadow that had managed to be dark enough to think it was my favorite black dog. Every time when I walked past the back door I would reach for the doorknob to let Max in or at least go outside and sit with him; But right before I would touch the knob I would remember.
I had always enjoyed wrestling with Max, or walking with Max, or petting Max as I read, or even just having him sleep at the floor of my bed every time I came home from school.
I miss my black dog, Maxie-dog, Maximus, Maxwells, dog-boy, bark-o, buddy-dog, and most of all I miss my friend Max. So here’s to a dog that really made me happy, through all the awkward, depressing, happy, sad, fun, boring, worst and best times. I really loved that dog and I never had any doubt that I did. It is going to be hard to get to sleep tonight.I miss my buddy.