Rock Chalk Jayhawk!

***One of my top-five favorite photos of Bernie; September, 2004***

KU 42, Minnesota 21, Insight Bowl last night. Undergraduate blood runs thicker than graduate blood, in my case anyway.

I had a crappy 1999 New Year's Eve, of all the NYEs to be crappy, eh? I moved to Sacramento in August 1999, and it happened really fast. So fast, in fact, my parents were en route to Tahoe to help me move to Vegas when I told them there was a change in plans: I was moving to Sacramento.

Such short notice meant I had to find a place to live fast. The best I could do knowing no one in or nothing about Sacramento was a fairly nice apartment in a complex. Bernie was always an outside dog when I wasn't home, though she spent some quality indoor time with Poochie when the going got rough for the Sheepdog. Anyway, living in an apartment complex meant she was an inside dog in my absence. To say she wasn't thrilled with this arrangement is a vast undrestatement. She went nuts, barking like mad every second I was gone. In fact, a week after I moved in, I got an eviction notice due to her barking. If they only knew the bigger problem: Bernie had tried to chew her way through the steel front door. I came home to a destroyed door with blood on it and a frantic dog. I'd talked my way into a reprieve on the eviction, but clearly this wasn't working. Two weeks, new place, new town, crazy dog, eviction notice . . . what to do? Someone suggested I get rid of the dog (I won't mention whom that was to protect the naive), which of course was one of the most ridiculous things I'd ever heard. So I did the only thing I knew to do: Bernie and I sat down and had a talk. She continued being a "bad dog" for a couple days, then it all stopped. Overnight. Nothing. She'd just lay and look out the floor-length window till I got home. Dad and I put in a full-glass backdoor at my current home this past summer. While the old door was old, worn, and needed to be replaced, a secondary motive was so Bernie could look outside while she waited for me to come home. She's always looking out the door when I come home. She remained an outdoor dog in my absence until winter 2008, when she was 13. She'll be 15 on January 31.

Obviously, she's a hearty dog. They say Chows used to drag lions across the desert--why or where they did this, I don't know. They have extremely powerful jaws, as my steel door found out. It's ironic that now I'm having a hard time getting her to put food into her mouth. She's never lived to eat, and in fact has always spit out chicken skin, always eaten the bread and left the turkey behind when I give her a bite of my sandwich. She eats to live, always saving four or five bits of kibble in her bowl for right before bed, just to be safe. I don't like that now she seems interested in food but is uncomfortable when she eats, which isn't often though her weight is fine. She's always eaten to live, and I hope that continues.

Some good news, though, is that I got a message last night from long-lost Elizabeth, who is as much responsible for teaching little insecure Bernie to be comfortable in her own skin as anyone. In her message, she mentioned Bernie used to love raw hot dogs. I don't recall that, but I'll soon have some Oscar Meyer in the fridge and hopefully in Bernie's belly by the end of the day. Also, Bernie is utterly comfortable when she sleeps and still purrs--yes, purrs--when I gently stroker her nuzzle. She's walking steps again, had a bit of a sparkle in her eyes this morning, and her ears have perked up more than once in response to this or that. I'd say she's about 90 percent of her pre-Monday self. Unfortunately, signs of her condition are more prominent than ever though not yet devestating.

Petco, yes. We went yesterday evening. She was a rock star, happy and gay. She loves that place, even took a treat from the cashier and sniffed the bags of treats and bones incessantly. She rested her head on the car window ledge, open window, when I went into Chipotle to get a big-fat burrito, and kept her head on the ledge there as we drove home. Her ears will definitely perk up again soon, as we wind the last few streets with Bernie's head out the window to my Mom and Dad's, where we're going in a bit. It's one of Bernie's favorite spots on Earth!