#dog horn training tool

[chiasemxh]

5 effective dog training tools at home you must have

5 effective dog training tools at home you must have

When you start keeping a dog as a pet in the house, the most necessary and supportive thing for you is the dog training equipment and tools. Let Pet-Care refer you to 5 effective dog training tools at home! There is one thing that is recognized by dog owners: raising a dog is not easy. When adopting and taking responsibility for a pet, you need to be equipped with the necessary knowledge and…

[blueboyluca]

Lately I've been feeling a huge need for emotionally intelligent, empathetic and thoughtful content about dog training and care. I feel very fragile at the moment and this sort of thing, while also kind of painful in a way, has been helping me be forgiving to myself and understanding to the dogs in my life. I can't get my thoughts straight to write out anything in detail, but I can share the resources themselves.

This episode was soothing. Christina is a beautiful and gentle speaker and her insights are incredibly valuable. I appreciate her desire to stay out of the limelight, but I do wish I had regular access to her thoughts so it's a bit of a shame she doesn't do social media or anything like that.

Choice quote: "Oftentimes I want to raise my hand and be like, can we evaluate this carceral mindset? And I get looks and I think, cool, not the time, not the place. This is not the space, like, shift gears, let it go, try something else."

This post was a really useful reflection tool. I don't identify as a crossover trainer, since I never trained dogs before, but I still relate because I was raised in a punishment first society regardless of dogs. Even as someone who came to dog training committed to R+ from the outset, it still takes rewiring and relearning and reconfiguring to not default to punishment.

Choice quote: "We humans believe that anger is an appropriate response to being wronged. I agree. There is a lot in this world to be enraged about. The problem is directing that rage at dogs and other beings we control. We are encouraged to believe that dogs are morally wronging us, and that appropriate responses are anger and punishment."

I found so much value in this two-part podcast from Animal Training Academy with Michele Pouliot. She had so much wisdom about how to effectively help people and change minds. And sometimes that means being frustrated.

Choice quote: "When we start working with a dog that's never had positive reinforcement training before, you're right, what's the first thing we do? We build a reinforcement history so that dog trusts us, enjoys being around us, and as soon as we have that relationship we can ask more of them... just because a person called you and made the appointment doesn't mean you have a relationship yet... It's the same as training the dog, you have to build the history."

I'd love to find some more media like these. I've been downloading a bunch of new dog books again, but so far none of them are quite scratching the itch I've got. I wish I could read something like The Secret History of Kindness again, that was one of those rare books that had a profound impact on me.

[apenguinbird]

Animal familiars in NRC: Ignihyde and Diasomnia edition.

(A continuation of this, this and this)

Ignihyde

Idia: Dog

Dang it, he wanted a cat. 

Still, he recognizes dogs are cute.

Let’s call him Cerberus for now. I think it would be a dog breed like a Cretan Hound, Greek Harehound, Molossus of Epirus, all big dog breeds from Greece.

Cerberus is very loyal to Idia and loves to sit by his side when he is playing games.

Scary dog privileges heck yeah. Idia hopes it will keep the extroverted students away from him (spoiler: It doesn’t work)

When working at STYX Cerberus works as a guard dog, not really necessary but Idia likes the feeling.

Cerberus is one of the few reasons why he goes out and takes him on walks. Although Ortho is usually the one taking him out, for Idia’s safety, the last time Cerberus basically dragged him across campus.

Makes memes with his dog.

“Oh Cerberus, we're really in it now.” 

Ortho

(Light spoilers for chapter 6, nothing mentioned though)

Unfortunately, Ortho is not able to have a familiar in the traditional way.

He loves Cerberus though!

Usually the one in charge of taking him on walks.

Cerberus is so careful around Ortho even though he is made out of metal.

Ortho has millions of files about taking good care of dogs.

Idia is/was planning on building a familiar for Ortho but the idea makes him sad.

Diasomnia.

One of the best examples of how the bond between mages and familiars works. Some familiars can become really really old.

Silver: Snow Owl

(Reference for chapter 7)

Yeah.

Honestly Silver was probably the youngest when it came to finding his familiar, with the number of animals close to him it was predictable.

He took a nap somewhere and woke up with the owl looking at him.

Lilia felt happy for Silver, although he felt like life was being a bit passive-aggressive with him.

If Silver is sleeping his familiar is somewhere watching over him.

Silver uses the owl to look for Malleus when the latter is nowhere to be found.

Special alarm, aka the familiar will peck Silver until he wakes up.

Sebek: Hawk

The perfect look for a knight, Sebek likes the respectable image they have going on.

LOUD DUO.

“WAKA-SAMA!” *hawk noises.*

Sebek is training it to attack people. Plus he trains with silver to use their familiar as trackers.

One time Sabek almost hits him with a lightning bolt and has been apologizing ever since.

The hawk once sat in one of Malleus’ horns which he found amusing, Sebek not so much.

Lilia: Bat

I know it was a really obvious choice but it was the best one for Lilia.

Same energy. Let me tell you that bat is old.

“Aren’t we cute?”

They both like to hang from the ceiling.

Silver’s babysitter was back when he was a kid. From making sure baby Silver was safe while Lilia was busy and/or adapting to parenthood, making sure he was safe in the woods as a kid, up to this day it makes sure Silver fell asleep somewhere safe.

Has saved the young one from Lilia’s cooking, the reason why sometimes Lilia finds kitchen ingredients or tools gone missing, is for a greater cause.

Will screech to get your attention.

Has had to drag Lilia by the ear to bed when he stays up too much time.

He and Lilia enjoy having tomato juice together.

Sometimes he joins Lilia in the music club, it doesn’t sound great but it is the passion that counts.

Malleus: Crow

A bit of an odd case because Malleus passed centuries without a familiar, they found each other rather recently.

He finds it rather interesting how it fits the story of the Witch of Thorns and her crow companion.

Malleus can and will tell you a lecture on what makes ravens and crows different creatures.

A good company, a bit of a one side conversation but the two look happy in the process.

“And that’s why gargoyles are often carved out of marble or stone and are attached to buildings.” “Caw.” “Interesting indeed.”

Malleus’ grandmother has a crow familiar too, maybe it’s a Draconia thing.

His familiar also enjoys old builds and statues which Malleus finds endearing.

Sometimes the crow disappears and reappears at random times. Malleus will never admit it but he’s rather bitter at the idea of not being invited.

Loves shiny things and has a nest of things it has collected around the school.

No, the crow doesn’t sit on Mallues’ horns but sometimes you can find it on his shoulder.

That crow is in the top 5 of those who Sebek respects.

The most respected and feared bird in all of the school. Some students are sure there must be something fishy with that bird.

[spacenintendogs]

for your modern AU:

first off, I love it, inject it into my bloodstream please.

do the dragons like squeaky cat toys. Pls I need to know -

do they, like, randomly chew on stuff.

Are there any important things the riders need to hide from the dragons to prevent the above from happening?

KAJDKSJDJSJ thank u so much!!!!!!!

as for the cat toys!!! it depends on the dragon :)

toothless?? absolutely. hiccup doing that thing with his metal tools reflecting light & toothless chasing it?? absolutely. toothless is very Cat™️. he likes chasing small puff balls, hiccup gets one of those feather toys on a pole, squeaky mouse toys, etc. altho he'd much prefer to catch & eat actual mice... but yea he likes squeaky cat toys the most

deadly nadders like stormfly are more similar to parakeets/parrot like birds in stature! talking to her so she tries to mimic is smth she loves!!! BUT!! stormfly still loves playing fetch!! she also just likes games in general!!! hiding her toy so she finds it, etc!!! she likes little bells too. she also enjoys playing with astrid's braid when she sits on astrid's shoulder. she likes playing with string :) and she's a shredder.

monstrous nightmares like hookfang like to rough house like dogs & cats! pinning the horns down & stuff!! also a tugger!! play tug of war with him!! but like a cat he is a climber. think abt hookfang climbing the arena chains!!! he's like a bat sometimes!! likes scaring ppl!! also helps toothless chase mice. surprisingly tho he likes clinging to snotlout's back and front. also he's a shredder.

meatlug is the most like a dog!! she loves playing fetch (pls think abt her little tail wagging with her big ol eyes as she pants bc she's excited bc she wants the ball!! god my heart). she gets winded a little quicker due to being u know. a solid rock. but!! she loves cuddling!! a lap girlie for sure!!! also if anyone is a chewer, it's her. u gotta watch your shoes around her!!!!

barf and belch play with each other & enjoy chasing!! chase a ball, a stick, the twins, another dragon, etc!! they want to be chased too!! they are ambush predators so anything that'll activate that too!!!! putting your hand under a blanket and moving it quickly back and forth will get them to run & bat at it like a cat!! they also enjoy hopping between ruff & tuff's shoulders!!!

as for things that need to be hidden: shoes, any paper materials, any jackets, & fabric in general. sometimes the shirt they're wearing gets shredded bc the dragons felt like it. snotlout especially ends up with shredded t-shirts. the gang has to watch where they set their backpacks down!! also sometimes dangly shiney earrings will get a pounce or two at them!!!!

also probably don't have an actual cat or dog near the dragons until they're good & trained 😭

[theshittymarimo]

Dreams and Daemons

Chapter 3: Franky, Brook Fandom: One Piece Summary: Introduction of Harley and Alma. Words: 1 191 Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Franky - HARLEY, Texas Longhorn

“Fertility, masculinity, strength. With a fiery temperament and no lack of brute strength, the bull is a very strong symbol of masculine power. It is often associated with the sun, but also with the moon and the skies. It is also a symbol of justice and order.”         - “Dæmons Unveiled: Navigating the Bonds of this World”, Filipe Haulman

Franky’s daemon, Harley, loved to transform into ferocious animals that looked impressing, causing people to think twice before they tried to do something to them. Franky delighted in it and constantly challenged Harley to change into new, stronger animals that he could create new weapons to, making him into a super cyborg daemon. Designing new weapons that made Harley stronger than any other daemon they met was exhilarating; he looked super cool! Regardless of who you were, you were bound to hesitate when you saw a rhinoceros with cannons mounted on each shoulder. It didn’t matter that Iceburg was speaking to them like they were fools for thinking so, Franky thought he was probably just jealous as his daemon was a stupid little mouse. She couldn’t even carry a little laser, Franky thought, although now when he was thinking of it, that would be pretty super that too… But his Harley was undeniably the coolest. However, when the marines came to take Tom-san away, no shape mattered anymore. Even a rhinoceros with cannons was powerless before the World Government. That fateful day, Franky stood on the rails in front of the train carrying their creator to his death. Beside him stood Harley, tears welling in his eyes as he changed into a bull with long horns for the first time. The perfect form, if any, to stop an oncoming train. Together, they would surely stop the train. No matter what. They wouldn’t let them take Tom-san away. Franky’s body broke and Harley’s body shattered into golden dust. Franky had probably never been closer to death than that day. Harley returned to him as the bull again, and after a few initial days of silence when Franky was too busy struggling to survive, he could finally focus on his daemon again. “That thing?” Franky spoke for the first time, prompting Harley to perk up from where he lay patiently while Franky worked. “Mm”, Harley hummed, looking over his unscathed body. “Seems like it.” Initially, it felt like a bitter reminder of their failure that day. But Franky soon discovered how practical it was with a long hanger attached to his daemon, no need to put down any tools, and Harley was still strong with a couple of sharp tips. Even if he would totally look more super with a couple of cannons mounted on him. Brook - ALMA, Dog, Austrian Black and Tan Hound

“Companionship, loyalty, protection. Dog medicine can often teach us how to be a good friend, the power of forgiveness, and how to love unconditionally. Dog people tend to have good intuition, keen senses and quick-learning, intelligent minds.”           - “Dæmons Unveiled: Navigating the Bonds of this World”, Filipe Haulman

“Ooowoooowoooo..!” Nami, Usopp and Chopper had been quaking in their boots from the sound. An eerie wail emanated from the ghostly ruined ship in front of them, sounding like the lament of a spirit crying for an impossible redemption amidst the dark fog. It felt straight out of a horror story. Nami really, really didn’t want to climb up the rope. Screw the lottery; she wanted to stay alive, damn it! She lamented while crying in the little boat they had used to approach the ship. Damn that captain who had been shivering in excitement since they first saw the ship. Surely Sanji was enough? The spine-chilling howling echoed again, and Nami barely kept herself from yelping. Then, something white suddenly began to shift through the wood of the ship in front of her. She felt her face pale as she watched a freaking transparent head of something slowly revealing itself, until she saw two black holes emerging from the rotting wood of the ship. Staring straight at her. No. No, no, no, no, nonononono! She shrieked in horror as she climbed up to Luffy and Sanji in record time. She didn’t even complain when Sanji got all lovey-dovey when she jumped into his arms. Let him die first; she didn’t care. It all got worse from there. The damn skeleton showed up—an impossibly moving skeleton, mind you, that asked to see her panties. She was so done. But then, through the rotten wooden floor, a freaking ghost appeared! She knew it was the thing she had seen earlier, no mistaking those dark holes for eyes. But now she could see it was a dog. All white and slightly see-through, like a freaking ghost (it couldn’t be repeated enough times). Oh, and it slightly hovered above the wooden floor; did she mention that part? Like. A. Freaking. Ghost. Luffy was ecstatic. That idiot. She wanted to kill him when he asked them to join his crew before she or Sanji knew what was going to happen. And the skeleton said yes! The ghost dog next to him wagged its tail happily. She could feel her soul leave her body. --- Brook was ecstatic, he had met people! People! They weren’t hallucinations but had invited him over to their ship. He hadn’t been on another ship in fifty years, so he knew that it wasn’t something he was imagining. Alma was just as excited as he was. She was leaping and running around in the kitchen with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. She showed no care that half of the time she was running through some of the people in the room who shouted and yelped in shock from the chilly feeling whenever she did so. The other daemons in the room clearly didn’t know how to react when the strange daemon jumped up to them and licked them. But they couldn’t feel the tongue; instead, it disappeared into their body with a chill. The tiger daemon had tried to swipe after her, but to her clear bewilderment, her paw just swept through the transparent body in front of her. Brook soon explained to them what had happened to him. That he had eaten a devil fruit and when he died, he returned as a spirit. “Ah, and I had Alma by my side!” he said happily, looking to Alma who stopped in the middle of her lap around the table and beamed up to him as well. “Well, she was a spirit as well. We searched for my body and when we found it, it was already a skeleton. But I was able to return to my body, and Alma stayed by my side!” Alma flew up into the air with a happy woof. Brook introduced himself as Dead Bones Brook and Alma joined in happily – “And I’m Phantom Alma!” The new people they met stared at them in bewilderment, while the captain’s smile somehow widened even more.

I had a hard time to choose between two names for Franky's daemon, and in the last moment before uploading this chapter I changed it into Harley. I wanted a typical american name for him and with Franky's bike Harley felt like a very fitting name. A rhino could've been a very fitting animal for him but I had an image of a Texas Longhorn for him for a long time, and it feels like a more humble animal for him fitting for the lesson he learned after Tom. Instead of a horn for attacking enemies, he got an animal with horns also made for taking attacks. Dear Brook and Alma.. At first I was searching for an austrian animal for him but soon it came to me that I didn't have a dog yet and it feels very fitting for him. And so I found the breed of Austrian Black and Tan hound. For a long time I imagined Alma as a skeleton as well, but one day it hit me that she would be perfect as a spirit like Brook is when he can let his soul out of his body. Somehow she didn't turn into a normal deamon again after Brook's first death, nobody is really sure what she is now, but on the other hand nobody is sure if this have ever happened before. I wanted to give an image of both before and after Brook's first death so you get two different images of them both here. As a bonus, the name, Alma, coincides with the Spanish word meaning "the soul". If you're wondering about Jimbei, fishmen and mermen are different from humans in that they don't have daemons. For humans it was just another way that they were different from humans and made them more similar to animals. But to fish-/mermen it is said that their whole souls are inside of them and around them in the sea, they are never separated. While humans are the strange exception in the world who are so separated in their souls that they're splitted, always searching for fulfillment.

[onlinereputationmanageofficial]

Online Reputation Manage: Developing a Strategic Reputation Management Plan For Business Growth

In the fast-paced digital era, your business reputation is like a digital first impression—it spreads rapidly and can make or break your success. Think of it as your online resume. A positive reputation is a magnet for customers, partners, and investors, drawing them in with trust and credibility. On the flip side, a negative one can send them running. That’s why having a well-thought-out strategic reputation management plan is not just a luxury but a necessity. It involves actively shaping the way people perceive your brand, addressing issues promptly, and showcasing the positives. In this digital age, where information travels at the speed of a click, managing your reputation strategically is the key to unlocking growth and ensuring the long-term success of your business.

Understanding Reputation Management

Reputation management is like steering the narrative about your business in the vast sea of information. It’s not just about tooting your own horn; it’s also about what others are saying. Imagine your business as a character in a story, and that story is being written by your customers, the media, and social media users. Customer reviews, media coverage, and social media mentions all contribute to the plot. A positive review can be a plot twist that propels your business forward, while a negative one might throw a curveball. Being in control means actively engaging with your audience, addressing concerns, and highlighting the positive aspects. In this digital age, where everyone has a voice, managing your reputation is not just a task; it’s a storytelling art that can shape the destiny of your business.

The Importance of Reputation for Business Growth

A solid business reputation comes with a bundle of perks. Firstly, there’s the golden ticket of customer trust. When people have faith in your business, they’re more likely to open their wallets and keep coming back for more. In a dog-eat-dog business world, a good reputation acts as your secret weapon, setting you apart from the competition. Picture this – a customer faced with similar choices goes with the one with the shining reputation. But it’s not just customers; top-notch talents are drawn to businesses that have a positive vibe. If your company’s known for being a great place to work, you’ll have the best minds knocking on your door. And let’s not forget the VIP access to collaborations and partnerships. Other businesses want to team up with winners, and a strong reputation is your golden ticket to opening doors for growth-boosting alliances. So, in the reputation game, the more you invest, the more benefits you reap.

Developing Your Reputation Management Plan

Now that we understand the importance of reputation management, let’s outline a strategic plan to build and maintain a positive reputation:

1. Monitor Your Reputation Regularly

Harnessing the power of online tools is like having a superhero sidekick for your business reputation.  Pay attention to customer reviews, social media comments, and news articles. When negative vibes pop up, don’t play hide and seek; address them head-on. Swiftly and professionally tackle any concerns or criticisms. It’s not just about damage control – it’s about showing you’re attentive and committed to customer satisfaction. 

2. Provide Excellent Customer Service

Crafting exceptional customer service is like planting seeds of positivity that bloom into a garden of goodwill. Train your employees to be customer service superheroes, equipped with the skills to handle inquiries and complaints like seasoned pros. In this customer-centric era, exceptional service isn’t just a choice; it’s the secret sauce that turns customers into lifelong fans and transforms your business into a beacon of excellence.

3. Build a Strong Online Presence

Dive into the social media scene and create vibrant profiles on platforms that resonate with your audience. It’s not just about having an account; it’s about being an active player. Share content that’s not just promotional but valuable, content that your audience wants to see. Social media is a two-way street, so engage with your followers – respond to comments, acknowledge messages, and be part of the conversation.

4. Encourage and Manage Reviews

Transform happy customers into your business’s biggest cheerleaders by encouraging them to leave reviews on platforms like Google My Business, Yelp, and other industry-specific review sites. It’s like collecting stars for your business. Be vigilant in monitoring these reviews and, here’s the crucial part, respond to them. Whether the review is a glowing testament to your greatness or a constructive critique, show that you’re listening and engaged. This isn’t just about boosting your online reputation management; it’s about building a community of trust. Potential customers peek at reviews to gauge your credibility. By actively participating in the review conversation, you demonstrate that feedback matters, and you’re committed to making things right. It’s not just a review; it’s a chance to showcase your dedication to customer satisfaction and turn happy customers into your business’s best advocates.

5. Be Transparent and Authentic

In the world of business, honesty is the best policy. Be transparent about your products, services, and how you operate. If mistakes happen – and they inevitably do – own up to them. Admitting faults and taking responsibility is not a weakness but a strength. It’s like saying, “Hey, we’re human, but we’re committed to making things right.” This level of authenticity resonates with customers; it builds trust like a reliable foundation. 

6. Invest in Public Relations

Forge strong connections with journalists and media outlets within your industry; consider them as allies in your business journey. Actively seek opportunities for positive media coverage through avenues like press releases, interviews, and thought leadership articles. It’s not just about being in the spotlight; it’s about shaping the narrative surrounding your brand. 

7. Monitor Your Competition

In the competitive arena of business, it pays to be a keen observer. Keep a watchful eye on your competitors’ reputation management strategies. Learn from their triumphs and, perhaps more importantly, from their missteps. It’s like having a playbook, studying both the winning moves and the fumbles. Identify areas where you can set yourself apart, finding the sweet spot that makes your business shine uniquely. By staying attuned to your competitors, you’re not just keeping pace; you’re strategically positioning yourself to capitalize on opportunities and stand out in the crowd. In the reputation game, being aware of what others are doing is like having a compass; it guides you towards a path where you can carve out your distinct identity and make a lasting impression.

8. Measure and Adapt

In the realm of online reputation management, data is your compass, and key performance indicators (KPIs) are your guideposts. Track the effectiveness of your efforts by monitoring crucial metrics like online sentiment, customer satisfaction scores, and brand awareness. It’s like having a dashboard that tells you how well you’re navigating the reputation landscape. Analyze this data to fine-tune your strategies and stay agile in the face of changing circumstances. If online sentiment is soaring, you’re on the right track. If customer satisfaction scores need a boost, it’s a cue to adjust your approach. Think of it as a continuous feedback loop – the data informs your decisions, and your actions influence the data. In the dynamic world of reputation management, KPIs are your north star, helping you stay on course and ensuring your efforts are not just effective but always evolving.

Conclusion

In conclusion, reputation management is not just about maintaining a positive image; it’s about driving business growth. By developing a strategic reputation management plan and implementing it consistently, you can build trust with customers, gain a competitive advantage, and position your business for long-term success. Remember, your reputation is one of your most valuable assets, so invest the time and resources to manage it effectively. Want more information visit Online Reputation Manage Website.

[pyrrhiccomedy]

talk about volo!!!!!!!

yes yes yes

Volo is the son of the stablemaster of the Ducal family of Burgundy. He is seventeen years old. He grew up on the palace grounds, in Dijon: he always served, and was always going to serve, Bastian's family.

When he was eight years old, his mother died of a fever, and his father refused to acknowledge she was dead. She lay cold and decomposing in their house for two weeks before Volo crept out and told a priest. It was the first time his father hit him: he didn't say a word to his son for a year.

So Volo decided not to pursue a career in the stables. He begged the housekeeper for work instead. For three years, he fetched and carried. He was serious and quiet. At age eleven, he was trusted to work upstairs, as a page, where the princely family of Burgundy would actually see him, and he could see them. It was a fine opportunity: the housekeeper felt sorry for him. He was a good boy, a hard worker, and his father, for some reason she could not fathom, clearly hated him.

Volo was silent and diligent and kept his head down, then he met Bastian: the brooding second son of the Duke of Burgundy, cunning and chilly, furious and noble, eighteen and already of murderous ambition. Volo loved him on sight. Bastian - of course - didn't notice him at all.

Volo did not expect to be noticed. He did not deserve to be noticed. He was, in every way, beneath the young lord who he felt with every trembling and feverish nerve in his body that he was born to serve. But he had time. He was eleven. He was starting late - in every way - but if he worked hard, he could still make himself useful.

Volo begged, bullied, stole, lied, and bargained: for the tools he needed to teach himself how to read; to learn how to maintain a lord's armor, and repair his clothes; for corrections on his clumsy and uneven penmanship; for better soap, for candle-ends, so he could stay up and practice into the night. He had no friends and took no free time. He became chilly and superior to the other serving boys. And when they picked fights with him, well - that was practice, too.

And then one day, Bastian glanced up from his work, his eyes found the closest servant - usually that boy, thirteen by then, he was always around - and asked him to take a note. He waved it away a moment later: why should some unliveried pageboy be able to do that? --And so was mildly but pleasantly surprised when Volo picked up a quill and began to write down everything he said.

He established that Volo was literate; that his penmanship was tolerable; that he knew a little Latin; and that he had a strange light in his eyes when he offered to help Bastian with anything he needed. Bastian invited him to come back the next day.

The dark prince of Burgundy knew the value of a loyal boy.

Six months later, without being seen, Bastian spied Volo taking a beating on his behalf. A priest was looking for a book Bastian had taken without permission: there would be no consequences for Bastian, except a tedious reminder of a process he did not care about, but Volo lied for him anyway, and was punished cruelly, without ever knowing Bastian was there. Volo never brought it up. It was not, in fact, the first time he had lied on his lord's behalf. And Bastian amended his assessment to: a loyal and discreet boy, who could - with a little investment - potentially develop into a valuable man.

Bastian ordered Volo to be trained to be his squire. He learned how to ride, and fight, and carry a horn and banner. By sixteen, he went on campaign with his lord, and did a miserable job, and nearly got Bastian killed.

Bastian let him try again. Loyalty means everything to a traitor.

In the time since, Volo has recovered himself. He has proven his aptitude, and his determination, and what Bastian finally recognized as his love. It is not a romantic love, and never was. It's the love of a dog for his master.

Bastian accepts it, and loves his good dog in return, for all of the things that make Volo a good dog. But he doesn't know why Volo is like this, except to speculate that Volo, with his own spiritual gifts, somehow glimpsed through time what Bastian would become: a god-killer, an anti-christ.

Volo would do anything for Bastian. Bastian will see that he does.

[aselapeasi]

Check out

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[yogabilitymind]

Yoga and Meditation Near Me | yogability.com.au

Yoga and meditation have many benefits for both the mind and body. Both practices can help reduce stress and improve flexibility. However, yoga focuses on the physical body, while meditation is a mental practice.

The New York Insight Meditation Center offers meditation classes and courses for people of all ages. Their instructors have a wide range of experience in mindfulness meditation and can help you cultivate inner peace.

The Shala Yoga

Yoga Shala is a welcoming place to deepen your Yoga practice. A shala is a sacred space that should be entered peacefully and respectfully. Just like you wouldn’t walk into someone’s home and talk loudly, or gossip, you should treat the shala with the same respect.

The studio offers a variety of classes for all levels. You can try Yin yoga, which is a very meditative style of yoga that holds poses for a long time and focuses on mindfulness. There is also Bikram yoga, which is hot and sticky.

Hope is an Ashtanga and Rocket yoga teacher who finds balance in tradition and creativity. She is also committed to issues of social justice. She believes in the power of yoga as a transformative tool for personal and global growth.

Three Jewels

In Buddhism, the Three Jewels are revered as rare and supreme objects of refuge. They are the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha. The Buddha is a completely enlightened being, the Dharma is the path to liberation from cyclic existence, and the sangha is the community of Buddhist practitioners.

Kelsey is an entrepreneur and everyday-Dharma practitioner who believes that the practice of yoga and meditation can transform the world. They strive to see every person as their teacher and look for learning opportunities in the typical experiences of life.

Their Bowery haven is a vibrant space for anyone to invoke extraordinary realizations through the nurturing practices of yoga, meditation and Buddhist philosophy. They offer many class offerings to meet the needs of every student, from beginners to advanced practitioners.

New York Insight Meditation Center

The New York Insight Meditation Center offers a wide variety of meditation classes.

They offer retreats and day-long workshops for beginners, as well as intensive Vipassana meditation courses. These are 10-day residential courses that are donation-based.

The instructors at NY Insight are seasoned mindfulness-based stress reduction (MBSR) teachers. They have years of experience teaching the curriculum, and they work with small groups to provide a close teacher-student relationship.

Located in a city that shrieks with horns and crowds, the Maha Rose is an oasis of calm. Its 5,000+ square foot sanctuary offers a kaleidoscope of healing arts, including meditation, yoga and breathwork. In addition to regular classes, the center also offers virtual learning meditation courses and community meet-ups. The center is known for its mass meditations, a practice that allows students to connect with each other and experience moments of silence and peace.

Integral Yoga Institute

Integral yoga meditation Institute offers more than one hundred weekly Hatha Yoga classes for all ages and abilities. Other activities include scripture study, Kirtans and spiritual discussions. They also offer a renowned Yoga teacher training program.

IYI embraces all faiths and cultures, based on Swami Satchidananda’s interfaith teaching, “Truth is One, Paths are Many.” IYI is the New York branch of the international Yoga community located at the ashram-yogaville in Virginia.

Several world-class celebrities have been known to shop at IYI’s health food store and use the services of their yogic practitioners. They are often accompanied by their entourages. The store also sells carefully selected books and consciously sourced products. The facility is wheelchair accessible. Service dogs are welcome.

The Studio

Located in the heart of Greenpoint, this studio feels as serene as it gets. Sunlight streams through epic floor-to-ceiling windows into a room with a lime-washed walls. The studio’s curated playlists and yoga classes like ONEYOGAHOUSE's 45-minute Yoga Sculpt, which incorporates cardio and plyometric strength training, are popular with the neighborhood.

Iyengar Yoga teachers focus on the twin pillars of mindfulness and breath, leading participants in a grounding practice. Expect to hear the consistent ambient purr of singing bowls in the shala.

Modo Yoga came to NYC from the West Coast, but its Soho studio and cafe feel decidedly local. The studio offers a wide range of classes and features on-site showers and towels. Check out their $10 Modo Love and Karma classes that benefit a selected charity.

[socraticcryptid]

There’s something very disconcerting about waking up in a Christian hell when you aren’t even Christian.

I followed the demons downstairs. Down and down we went, past scene after scene of torture and misery. The demons escorting me refused to answer any of my questions, but they were unafraid to use their staves and tridents to keep me in line, so I reluctantly followed.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the scenes around me. To the left, pits of boiling water and clouds of sulphurous gases, full of screaming people. To the right, people being flogged and flayed and burned. And everywhere, far outnumbering us humans, were multitudes of horned demons with black wings and reddish, leathery, skin.

Finally, we stopped at the entrance to a large hall, and I was unceremoniously shoved inside.

A huge black throne dominated the room. Lounging upon the throne was a tall figure, maybe eight feet, with long scaled horns, a nasty smile, and dark, shrewd eyes. This, I decided, must be the anti-God. The Devil. The most powerful person in this place.

As I walked in, a table was wheeled out by two demons. On the table lay a horrifically mutilated man and a collection of bloody metal tools. The man was wailing, and I turned away, trying not to be sick.

One of the demons who’d been escorting me walked up to the Devil and handed him a file. As the Devil read it, his expression went from smug to shocked.

“You are Sandeep Singh, born in Newcastle, England, with parents Parminder and Jagjit Singh?” he asked.

“I am,” I said quietly. I couldn’t decide if I was meant to use an honorific or not, and decided against it for the moment. If it looked like I was going to be the next entertainment, though, I’d have to give it a shot.

The Devil flicked through the pages once more, looking horrified. “You were a schoolteacher at Upperton Primary, where you pioneered a free breakfast scheme and coached the hockey team? You volunteered at a soup kitchen in your spare time? You adopted disabled dogs that had been abandoned at the pound?”

“I did,” I said. Maybe ‘my lord’, I thought. Or ‘your majesty’.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

My train of thought shuddered to a halt and I stared up at him. “I don’t understand.”

The Devil sighed. “You, my child, are the Antichrist! You were destined to bring about Armageddon, the end of all things, through the evil that you wreaked upon the world — and then you dallied around doing good deeds like a pansy.”

“Uh,” I said. That was a lot to unpack. “I’m Sikh. And even if I were Christian, how would I even know that I was meant to do all that?”

“You were born to be evil,” the Devil hissed. “I made you that way.”

I laughed. “No one’s born evil. Humans don’t work like that. It’s about nature and nurture.”

“Rubbish,” the Devil scoffed. “I can see that I failed this time. Next time, though — next time you will be magnificent. Demons! Take the Antichrist to the reincarnation chamber!”

As the demons led me away, I couldn’t help but wonder how many times this had already happened, and how many more would be needed before he understood.

You died and were sent to hell, but instead of getting escorted down to a specific level of hell, you’re escorted straight to the Devil himself who looks mildly horrified while holding the file of your life in his hands.

[rkpierre]

When I was around 11, we lived on a quaint little farm about 30 minutes out of town. We had horses, goats, chickens, cats, and dogs. Three old barns stood on the property and were filled with tools and such. We also have 10 acres of field that my sister and I rode dirt bikes on. The small community we lived in had a population of around 150 people, a church, a fire hall, and a convenience store that acted as a gas station and liquor store. The community was somewhat tight-knit, and everyone seemed to take care of each other. The elementary school I went to had about 80 students with 3 or 4 classrooms, a gymnasium, bathrooms, and a library. Recess consisted of kids running around outside playing "Kick the Can" or "Mission Impossible."

One night at home, I was eating dinner, and I started having chest pain. I did not think anything of it, and I continued to eat my food. After I finished, I went to my room to play some Nintendo or watch TV. While sitting and playing, I had a little thought pop into my head. "What if the chest pain I'm having is a heart attack?" From that thought came panic that I've never experienced before in my life. The type of panic that you never forget is terror. I ran out of my room straight to my parents, asking them about my chest. I continued to complain over and over again, seeking reassurance from them that I was okay. My dad lifted me up, put me on his chest, and hugged me, trying to comfort me, but nothing worked as I was convinced my life was coming to an end.

A nightmare haunted me that night;

I found myself standing alone on a dimly lit train platform, the cold wind sending shivers down my spine. Suddenly, a monstrous, metallic train emerged from the darkness, its wheels screeching against the tracks like a banshee's wail.

The train bore a malevolent presence, adorned with sinister, blood-red eyes that pierced through the night. It sped toward me with relentless force, its deafening horn drowning out my screams. I tried to escape, but my legs felt like lead, rooted to the platform as if bound by an invisible force.

As the train closed in, I saw its windows filled with nightmarish faces, contorted in anguish and despair. I knew that anyone who boarded this train would meet a gruesome fate. Panic coursed through my veins as I desperately sought an escape, but it was futile. The killer train engulfed me in darkness, and with a bone-chilling scream, I jolted awake, drenched in sweat, thankful it was only a nightmare.

     __________________

Grades four, five, and six were filled with beatings, bullying, and tormenting. Every recess, I always felt like I had to watch my back due to being previously attacked by older students. I was suspended over twenty times due to retaliation and self-defense. The faculty refused and were unwilling to accept the fact that I was under a barrage of attacks daily. It hit another level when other kids would follow me, and I'd come home with fresh bruises and black eyes.

I remember one instance in particular. We were in gym class, playing basketball. The boys took turns playing the court while the girls hung out on the side talking to each other. I was playing against one kid that I had "beef" with for a few years. He had elbowed me in the nose during the game and shoved me a few times, but I just considered it competitive. Again, he elbowed me in the nose, and I slapped the basketball out of his hands and punched him in the face. He fell to the floor, and I picked him up by his collar, hitting him again. The teacher started shouting at us to get to the office. He got up, holding his nose, which was spewing blood, and jogged to the office with me, shouting obscenities towards him. When we arrived, we sat away from each other until the principal took us into his office and called out our parents.

At this point, my mom had gotten this call dozens of times and was tired of hearing about how "aggressive" I was. She drove to the school, and I could have sworn she kicked the door in. She was so mad. I exclaimed to her that I was exhausted and was done defending myself in a school where the faculty didn't give a shit about my health and safety. My mom told me to wait outside in the hall, and I marched into the principal's office. All I heard was shouting and swearing before she opened the door, grabbed me by the hand, and said, "Are you ready to leave?" saving me from that horrid place.

Four years of hell Four years of cuts, bumps, bruises, punches, and emotional abuse changed me forever.

A nightmare haunted me that night;

I found myself on a dark and desolate train platform. The air is thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the distant, haunting whistle of an approaching locomotive. As the train screeches to a halt before me, its windows reveal a blood-red glow, and I realize it's the killer train, hungry for passengers.

Panic sets in as I scramble to escape, but the platform seems to stretch endlessly in both directions. Just when all hope seems lost, a hero emerges from the shadows. Clad in a cape and armed with determination, they leap onto the tracks, ready to confront the malevolent machine.

The ensuing battle between hero and killer train is a frenzy of sparks, steel, and heart-pounding tension. My saviour displayed remarkable courage and resilience. As the hero finally gains the upper hand, they manage to halt the train and save me from certain doom.

Relief washes over me as the hero stands victorious, ensuring my safety. The nightmare begins to fade, leaving me with a sense of awe at the courage displayed by my heroic savior.

__________________

The first person I ever fell in love with was a girl named Tori. We were in the same grade, shared similar music tastes, and hung out with the same group of people. She was the one I lost my virginity to and the first person I shared that level of vulnerability with.

During the first few months of dating, my mother expressed her distaste for my new partner. My mother was not ok with me having sex in the first place, and she often reminded me that "nobody gets anyone pregnant in my house." So cuddling and physical shows of affection were not appreciated.

One day, I met Tori at the local mall bus stop. She had a large red rash-like mark on the side of her face. I asked her what happened, and she said that she fell down the stairs and told me not to worry about it. When my mom found out, she immediately called the police and reported her parents for abuse.

We dated throughout high school and went to prom together. After school, we moved into a small basement suite together. Things felt magical; we were out on our own and living every day like it was our last. However, I started to notice that she became more and more agitated the longer we lived together. During arguments, she would physically attack me, scratch me, cut me, and burn me, and I would let it happen without retaliation. I didn't tell a soul—I was ashamed.

We ended up moving out of that place and into an apartment building that was very small. I had a job running machinery for a forest company at the time and would be gone for a week at a time. And one day, when I came home, I noticed that my safe had been emptied and she was nowhere to be found. I messaged her and called her dozens of times until she answered. She came home and physically attacked me for raising an issue with her stealing money from me. In an attempt to flee from her, I locked myself in the bathroom. She kicked the door in and attacked me one last time before I picked her up and threw her across the room. I called the police and left the building.

I went and visited my mom and asked her if I could stay with her for a while. My mom and sister told me that I had to leave her as they could see the damage that was being done to my mind and body. My sister also said she was willing to "Go to jail" which I kind of believe due to the circumstances.

I met up with Tori and told her I was done; however, she wasn't done tormenting me. She told me she took the money and spent it on cocaine with this guy she was fucking and partying with when I was gone at work. She also told me she was pregnant. She then went on a bender and tried killing herself, telling me it was her fault for her suicide attempts.

After another three years of being bullied, tormented, diminished, and abused, I persevered.

A nightmare haunted me that night;

In the dream, I find myself in a dimly lit forest, shrouded in an eerie silence. The full moon hangs low in the sky, casting an unsettling glow on the surroundings. As I cautiously move through the trees, you stumble upon a scene that chills me to the bone.

My mother, transformed into a menacing, snarling werewolf, stood amidst a litter of adorable, helpless puppies. Her once-loving eyes are now filled with bloodlust as she hungrily eyes the defenseless pups. With a haunting howl, she lunges towards them, tearing into their fragile bodies.

The terrified yelps of the puppies echo through the night as my mother devours them mercilessly, her fur matted with blood. I stand frozen in horror, unable to intervene or escape the gruesome spectacle. The nightmare leaves you with a profound sense of dread and helplessness as you witness this nightmarish transformation of someone you love.

[truly-sincerely]

Back in January I attempted to do a heavily modded Skyrim playthru and I tweeted a thread with lots of screenshots. I got to level 10 before I found out that the thieves guild had a major bug and could not figure out how to fix it, so I put Skyrim down and probably started aggressively playing Vintage Story instead. I’m a very one-game-at-a-time kind of autistic.

I know the joke is that modding Skyrim is a game in-and-of itself but I’ve never done the main plot past returning Jurgen’s horn to the Greybeards and I would really like to. I would like to complete the Thieves Guild questline, and become the Dean of Magic and Werewolves and maybe find out what the Dawnguard’s deal is, if only for the huskies. But what I really want is to go to Solstheim and Blackreach (especially since I installed what look like some really pretty mods for it, and a train!!) and take pictures of mushrooms like a filthy tourist.

I’ve checked a bunch of the major locations with my new loadout and they should be good. If there are any wildly broken dungeons or mechanics I will try to fix them and/or ignore them. I will do my very best not to install any new mods until I’m done with this run.

So here’s Savvy the Forsworn. She’s gonna do great.

I'm using Skyrim Anniversary Edition (that's special edition + all the creation club stuff) with Survival Mode. This is an extremely abridged list of the mods I'm using, not including patches to make them all work together.

UI/Core - SKSE, Address Library, USSEP, Cutting Room Floor, USCCCP, SPID, PapyrusUtil, and a bunch of other acronyms - A Matter of Time (hud clock), A Quality World Map (w/ stone roads), Atlas Map Markers, Dynamic Timescale, Disease Descriptions - SkyUI, RaceMenu, MCM Helper, Menu Maid 2, Better MessageBox, menuHUD/inventory, Use or Take, Read or Take, YesImSureNG, Conner's Survival Mode

Stats - Path of Sorcery, Smithing Perks Overhaul, Stealth Skills Rebalanced, Economy Overhaul and Speechcraft Improvements - Odin, Triumvirate, Tonal Architect, GIST - Evenstar, Morningstar, No Starting Spells, Trade & Barter

Items - WACCF, ACE, CACO, CCOR, Open World Loot, Morrowloot Miscellania - Warmonger, Immersive Jewelry, Cloaks of Skyrim, Winter is Coming, Wearable Lanterns - Dynamic Things Alternative, Book Covers Skyrim Updated

Quests - Alternate Start, Timing Is Everything, Rebalancing AE, Even Better Quest Objectives - Thieves Guild Requirements, College of Winterhold Quest Expansion, Blackreach Railroad, Forgotten City, Tools of Kagrenac, The Midden Expanded, Penitus Oculatus - a whole bunch of mods that tweak existing quests; most of the daedric quests, the CC quests, radiant quests - itty bitty mods like Gildergreen Regrown, Bring Meeko to Lod, Finding Derkeethus, Helgi & Laelette, Nilheim, Battle Brothers, etc

NPCs/combat - Immersive Horses (+Wild Horse integration) with KrittaKitty's gorgeous horse replacers, Haladoon's Dogs, Realistic Husky Sounds, All Couriers are Dogs, Unique Barbas - SkyTEST, True Wolves, True Hunter, Less Confrontational Animals, CLAWS, Zim's Dragon Improvements, Arachnid Brutality - Carriage & Ferry Travel Overhaul, BUVARP, Relationship Dialogue Overhaul, Extended Encounters, Immersive Citizens, Realistic Conversations, Rustic Clothes, Prince and the Pauper - Civil War Refugees, NPC AI Position Fix, More Tavern Idles, Less Charitable NPCs - Thugs not Assassins, Hunters not Bandits, Guard Dialogue Overhaul, Bandit Lines Expansion, Forsworn & Thalmore Lines Expansion, Brawl Lines Expansion, Civil War Deserters, Varied Guard Armor, Immersive Patrols - Know Your Enemy 2, Valravn - ELFX, ELFX Shadows, RAID Weathers (Realistic AI Detection), Dynamic Immersive Seriously Dark Dungeons (w/ ELFX hardcore for just dungeons), Dynamic Weather and Time Based Detection

Scenery - The Great Cities, JK's Whiterun Outskirts and about half of JK's Interiors, Magical College of Winterhold, Capital Windhelm, Enhanced Solitude, Quaint Raven Rock, Ryften Down, Paint it Blackreach (w/ a patch to remove the trees, this isn't elden ring) - Civil War Battlefields, Environs-The Western Watchtower, The Ruined Tundra Farmhouse, Hroggar's House, Haafingar Expanded, Unique Border Gates, Lanterns of Skyrim II, Nordic Ruins of Skyrim - Dracos Hearthfire Homes, Hearthfire Extended, Honeyside, Proudspire, and Vlindrel Hall TNF, some other player homes - Do As You Say Redux, Restoring the Aretino Residence, Smelter for Riften, Clutter Doesn't Respawn - DynDOLOD, so many mesh and texture fixes, majestic mountains, seasons of skyrim, turn of the seasons, and a whole bunch of mods that support changing the look of the world based on the date

[coreymichaelsmithson]

Edison’s Medicine

I live in a crooked old farmhouse in rural Tennessee, with a tattooed folksinger and four handicapped dogs. Our house, the oldest in town, was built in 1899, and it stands on the unfashionable end of Main Street, where people don't bother to tidy up their porches and primroses poke from the concrete. The structure rests upon pilings rather than a real foundation, and as a result its central axis has become noticeably skewed, a feature that we're choosing to view as "whimsical" instead of "worrisome". Some of the walls are covered in whitewashed shiplap, others retain ragged remnants of floral wallpaper, and the overall feel is akin to a folk-art collage. Paintings and antiques abound. Tumbleweeds of doghair snag on the chair legs. Spiders haunt the crannies. Daniel, the musician, loves his bric-a-brac, so the majority of available surfaces are crowded with animal figurines, musical instruments, framed sheet music, toys, masks, tools, and heirlooms from his family. An enormous philodendron has colonized one fifth of the kitchen, its tendrils winding between ceramic dogs and fruit bowls. We've hung chandelier prisms in the western windows to cast rainbows across the walls. I've established my painting studio up front, while Daniel has set up his recording studio in the rear bedroom. Our house is full of laughter and music and quips from "ALL ABOUT EVE". It's dusty and cluttered and quite possibly the most peaceful home I have ever known.

McEwen is a town without stoplights. In fact, "town" is a pretty grand appellation for this place, which features three fast-food joints, three gas stations, two banks, two cemeteries, a handful of small businesses, a volunteer fire department, a post office, and maybe a dozen churches. City Hall doubles as the police station and municipal court. The hairdresser on Main Street is a real hoot; she's a chatty and charming New Yorker who collects vintage hats, and she'll even shave my back for an extra five bucks. There's a darling little deli that sells local goods ("Memories & Marmalade"), a weekly farmer's market, and a pair of decent antique shops. On the highest hilltop stands a water tower, a gleaming white sentry that looks especially dramatic under thunderheads.

McEwen's chief claim to fame is its annual outdoor barbecue, recorded in 1988 as being the world's largest by The Guinness Book of World Records. The grounds for this event stay idle for most of the year ... leaving behind a large field full of silent concession booths, empty souvenir stands, woodpiles, and faded pennants. Ever since I left the sandy paradise of Anastasia Island for the country life, this vacant green and the nearby Irish Catholic graveyard have been my go-to places for meditative walks.

A railroad bisects our town, and its freight trains roll through several times a day. There's a nostalgic and somewhat mournful feeling that creeps over me when I find myself walking alongside the tracks, and I hear an approaching locomotive sounding its horn. The crossing bell dings, and the striped boom gates descend. The orange light of afternoon falls upon weeds and gravel, broken bottles gleam beneath the crossbuck, and the creaking procession of hoppers and flats evokes distant destinations and the forgotten romance of the bindle. The web of iron that once bound our nation together suddenly comes into vivid focus, and as I watch the converging rails wobble under rising heat I think of hoboes and seekers and other wandering souls, ghosts climbing silently into the boxcars, ghosts in pork pie hats and tattered shoes, decamping for points unknown, and I find myself grieving for a musty mythos, for an era that died decades before my arrival, for an America that probably never even existed.

There really isn't anything to "do" around here, so our home life is mostly centered around cooking meals, nurturing our own professional and artistic ambitions, and caring for the dogs. It's a simple, uncomplicated existence, boring in all of the best ways. It's a season for spiritual pursuits and growing fresh herbs on the windowsill and mixing paints and tuning guitars. It's a season of quotidian bliss.

Because of their special needs, our dogs pretty much dictate the household's operations and schedule. Everything has to be specifically engineered to ensure their safety and comfort, and the routine is firmly embossed in everyone's mind. Late at night, before Daniel and I eat our supper, all six of us go for a walk through the quiet streets. Walking several handicapped dogs at once is not an easy task to manage ... the dogs all move in different directions, each following their own erratic interest, and so any human caught in the middle will inevitably be beribboned like a maypole by crisscrossing leashes. Cats, skunks, armadillos, and strays captivate them. We're constantly being interrupted mid-sentence by explosive barking and sudden lurches, and we've both pretty much given up on "directing" them. Besides, it's really their show, not ours, and so the walks have become a nightly exercise in Zen acceptance.

There are four dogs in our pack: Miss Cheez-It, Phantom, Bear, and Edison.

Miss Cheez-It is a calico border collie who was born without eyeballs. Despite her blindness, she is utterly fearless, and quite assertive. She has something of a 1950s juvenile delinquent vibe about her ... think of Rizzo from "GREASE" mixed with Tura Satana from "FASTER, PUSSYCAT! KILL! KILL!", and you get some sense of her innate boldness. Daniel and I are convinced that if we were to turn her loose on the streets, she'd be leading an all-female switchblade gang within a week.

Phantom, our Australian Shepherd, is both blind and deaf ... but he is blissfully, radiantly happy. I've never see a dog so thrilled to be alive. When we retrieve the leashes from the antique toy chest by the door, he becomes the most excitable creature on earth. Every walk is an adventure, every meal is a feast, every smell is a novelty. Phantom wants for nothing. He is our household Buddha, with untamable fur and a perpetual smile, and an expression that says, "I love being here." His eyes, beautiful but utterly useless, are a milky blue, the color of a winter morning.

Bear, the hound, has all of his senses ... but his neurosis has taken the form of an unshakeable guilt complex, in itself something of a handicap. He requires ongoing reassurance that he is, indeed, a Very Good Boy, and that we aren't mad at him, and that he deserves to be here just like the rest of us, and that we won't ever skip him at dinnertime. He leads a pretty cushy life ... nobody raises a hand to him, nobody yells when he upchucks on the hardwood, and he's constantly showered with love and praise ... but he keeps giving us the most baleful glances, as if to say, "It's all my fault."

And this leaves us with Edison, the deaf pit bull. Although I adore all of the dogs, I've become especially attached to him. He's like a battery for affection. You can charge him up with hugs and rubs and kisses ... and when you need that love returned, he will surrender it all to you in a single devoted glance. As I write this, we are sharing the ancient orange sofa in the studio. This has become the standard arrangement for us: I take the north end, he anchors the south, my feet rest against his haunches, and he snores contentedly while I type. Whenever I shift my position, he immediately looks up at me to see if I am staying put or rising. He'll stubbornly follow me from room to room, never letting me out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time. We are closely bonded, Edison and I. There is some kind of tacit understanding between us, a sense that we're in it for the long haul, that our fates are linked. We are mutually responsible for one another.

Unfortunately, pit bulls have gotten a bum rap in America. The public image of the breed has less to do with any innate malice than with the wickedness of bad masters ... illegal fighting rings, unscrupulous breeders, skinheads, neo-Nazis, self-professed "gangsters" who pride themselves on the viciousness of their dogs. Back when I lived in one of Kansas City's grimmest neighborhoods, I witnessed a yard full of neglected pits maul an escaped piglet, something I can never unsee.

My personal experience with pit bulls, on the other hand, has been consistently wonderful. I've watched these "beasts" nuzzle babies, and tolerate the senseless prodding of toddlers, and settle in for family time with the gentleness of lambs. Edison is the kind of monster who would allow pre-teen girls to slap makeup on his face and stick a tiara on his head. He has no real need for dignity, and will allow you to arrange him however you want, like a four-legged throw-pillow. When we're rough-housing in the mornings, he'll sometimes seize my right hand between his jaws. I know that he could easily destroy my painting career with a few choice bites ... but my trust in him is complete.

Truth be told, Edison is getting on in years. We can't sugar-coat the facts of aging. He's already starting to show some early signs of dementia ... he has to be coaxed to eat his breakfast, and he no longer trusts that he can just remain in place when I get up to refill my coffee. There's sometimes a befuddled, worried look in his eyes, as if he doesn't fully grasp something he's expected to understand. No amount of encouragement will soothe a dog who is losing his faculties, and his confusion will grow increasingly heartbreaking as time goes on. Lipomas and liver spots already mottle his skin. He's developed some arthritis in his hips, for which he takes an anti-inflammatory drug twice a day. I sneak the pills into his mouth via dollops of mayonnaise, giving his siblings an equal amount so that the poor creatures don't feel cheated. I know I'm dispensing far too much of the stuff ... Daniel probably thinks I'm ushering us all into the poorhouse, spoonful by heaping spoonful ... but I want to spoil these mutts for as long as we have them.

Part of being a dog parent is understanding that they won't always be around. Sooner or later, Edison's dog bowl will stay empty. Sooner or later, this couch will seem twice as long as it does now.

And so I give everything I've got to our embraces. Whenever I pet Edison, it's with a focus and intensity that keeps my mind locked in the "here and now". Every time I scratch his neck, every time we snuggle, every time I pluck burrs from his paws, it's with the understanding that we'll only have so many more moments like this. Our special bond, like all bonds, is a fleeting thing. Even though Edison is as deaf as his namesake, I whisper into his ear how deeply I love him, how he'll always be my special buddy, how he's "the most bestest boy in the whole wide world". I tell him that he's smart, and cooperative, and loyal, and sweet-natured. Only the latter two of those things are true, but I want him to feel good about himself. Besides, he doesn't hear a lick of it. For all he knows or cares, I might as well be reciting the Gettysburg address. But he can feel what I am saying to him. For the remainder of his days, he will be assured of my devotion.

Edison, Bear, Daniel, and I share the bed every night. Unfortunately, Edison has no gift for geometry, and Bear is basically a skittish pony disguised as a dog, so cramming us all onto a queen-sized mattress is often a clumsy business. Paws poke into backs, limbs collide, the real estate is badly subdivided, everybody snores ... but we make it work. We make it work because we have to.

Unlike people, dogs always remain in the moment. They may wait, with varying degrees of patience, for anticipated events ... meals, walks, a parent returning home from the salt mines ... but for the most part they seem to exist entirely in the present. They are the masters of mindfulness.

When I hold Edison, my senses snap back to the experience at hand. I note the texture of his fur and the mélange of odors trapped within. I listen to the sound of his breathing, the purring rumble of his satisfaction. My heart rate slows, as does his. My muscles unclench, as do his. The noise of the world diminishes, unresolved crises fade, the inchoate terrors of tomorrow dissolve ... until there is only this old dog, my noble friend and I, sharing a quiet moment of fellowship in the middle of nowhere. He can't hear the train whistle, though he may feel the rumble of the tankers in the trembling of our house. He sometimes feels me crying against his neck, and hooks a sympathetic foreleg over my wrist. And in this way we mark the passing of time, curled up against one another, healing neglected injuries. These are moments of mutual restoration, and I wouldn't trade them for anything. Edison is curing more maladies than he will ever know.

Those pills he takes with his meals are just the beginning. The roster of remedies will likely grow in the years to come. He will need more drugs, more doctor visits, more patience. But we'll be ready when the time comes. That's the deal we're keeping, he and I, until the very end. I'll help take care of Edison's medicine, and Edison will help take care of mine. Because for me, the phrase "Edison's medicine" has two meanings.

Edison has medicine. Edison is medicine.

[day-poems]

3/29

There is much to reflect on

from my days in India. I saw

maybe more than I was honesty

prepared for…more each day…

more on the journey as a whole.

We had a glimpse of the modern

high tech India in the high rises

of Delhi, and the tech firms along

the highways, in the business owner

family we shared seats with on

the train back to Delhi, traveling

with their two lovely children

and their ayah in traditional dress,

but we saw the other modern India,

not much changed from colonial

times, as well…the brick works…

the farmers in the field hand

cutting wheat and gathering

mustard stalks for fuel…the marble

and sandstone carvers in the

yards along the highway working

with hand tools, the cows and

the dogs every where, the dung

patties drying on any flat surface

and built into sometimes elaborate

little dung huts in every yard…

and the crush of people. The

constant blare of car horns,

tuk-tuks and motor cycles like

ants in every street, the constant

pall of smoke and worse in the air,

catching the back of the throat,

no matter how far out in the country.

Dead cows by the side of road,

with a smell that does not fade.

Even deep in the beauty of the

nature reserves, with the surprising

amounts of birds and wildlife

they protect, it was impossible

to escape the sense of struggle,

of millions of people just barely

clinging on…as they cling to any

moving vehicle…100 packed into

a wagon bed…more than a 100

packed into a bus made to carry 18…

whole families packed into a single

tuk-tuk, piled three deep on the

seats. Moving forward but always

at the cost…the constant cost,

barely clinging on. And it the middle

of it all the Taj Mahal, obscured

by the morning haze of smoke

and smog, a great monument,

not so much to love, as to wealth,

to the sheer unabashed pride

of place and power of those who

where so far past clinging on that

they could get away with the grand

romantic gesture in tons of carved

sandstone and marble, in the

lifetimes of thousands of workers.

It is all mixed up in my mind and heart,

and I don’t think I will ever sort it out.

It is India, for better or worse. India.

[mandareeboo]

This answers like. One question. Maybe two. But it opens up like TWELVE MORE so lemme just spitball for a bit here.

Courtney’s horns- halo- is very strangely broken? I mean, we saw how easily that one cracked, so I guess it’s not surprising, and I know that it could just be character design- but look at these guys.

Do you know how easy it is to reuse models? They reused a few here for the horns! And everyone here seems to suffer one of two injuries- they either lost one side, or they lost the top. Courtney’s missing BOTH sides. 

That doesn’t imply an accident to me.  An accident is these guys- either fell onto something or took a blow to the noggin. Both sides feels like... an attack. Or a bigger fall- like from higher up, straight onto the halo. Something clearly happened here. Something was done to Courtney.

And why is Courtney missing her memory? The other fallen angels don’t seem to be lacking anything. The blue one seems pretty much like a manager, as if this is an undertaking they’re fully aware of AND believe they must do. They lead her to the video, but it’s not a lore dump to anyone but us and Courtney- it’s literally just a training tool.

I assumed her memory loss was just a form of coping, but this feels... suspicious.

Why the hell was she banished? They have a place for fallen angels. And if she was causing havoc, they could have easily stuck her into normal Naraka or killed her. The fact that they chained her up, possibly wiped her memory, and then forced her to live on a plane they assumed no demon and almost no angels would ever set foot? They wanted her to be alone. They wanted her to suffer. 

Courtney’s a bit much, sure, but no one deserves this sort of punishment. Hell, is it even a punishment? If they did strip her of her memories, then Courtney has been flying blind for no reason. She can’t feel properly punished when she didn’t even know this place existed until like ten minutes ago. 

And before coming to Earth and spending 1,000 years alone, Courtney was probably like the blue one- friendly, serviceable, willing to do what she was taught was ‘the greater good’. She knows every rule in the angel handbook- can site citations at a glance. When Courtney’s dedicated to someone or something she’ll fight to the ends of the universe for it. It feels like heaven did the fallen angel equivalent of kicking a scared dog. 

Was someone trying to protect her? Were they making an example out of her? If so, to whom? The other fallen angels don’t seem to get out of this orb much, if at all. A coverup? 

TLDR: Courtney’s halo doesn’t feel like an accident, it’s weird she doesn’t have her memories if her banishment was punishment, and it feels like a LOT of extra effort to have banished her and kept an eye on her than to just shuttle her off to jail or kill her.

[mandana-the-service-pup]

NOTE TO SELF: Airhorns don’t work on deaf dogs!

Last night and this morning we were charged by the same dog. The dog (an adolescent bully-breed) has excitement reactivity. TBH idc it was barking & lunging at us from a distance. Mandana can handle most crazy dog interactions if there is enough distance. However, in an effort to prove the dogs friendliness the guy walked straight at us saying “he’s friendly, can they play” as the dog was lunging at us. The owner finally moved away when I told him “we don’t want to meet” (he really should have asked BEFORE cornering us in the dark). The next morning the same dog with a different person lunged at us again as they were turning a building. Luckily this person left immediately and didn’t try to force a meeting.

When the first encounter happened, Mandana was ok for a while but as they got closer she ultimately reacted. She also has excitement reactivity and having a dog pulling & barking at her while she was trying to potty in the dark was enough to trigger her to bark & pull in return. It’s frustrating bc we have gone sooo long without her reacting to excited dogs, but after this dog lunged at us two days in a row her her tolerance has gone down a bit.

This afternoon I took her for a short scooter run with her by my side on a collar/leash. An old Yorkie broke through his invisible fence and crossed four lanes of traffic to get at us. It gave me enough time to get the airhorn out but I quickly discovered the dog was deaf and didn’t care I was blasting a horn in his face multiple times. The owner was inadequate at retrieving the dog (just kept yelling at it from across the four lanes and didn’t try to catch the thing as it lunged at us). When the airhorn was dead i threw it at the dog and reached for my stun gun. I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to use it on such a small dog but that’s when the owner finally decided they would come get the dog afterall.

After they left, I took a moment to collect myself. I gave Mandana some water and treats and tried to turn it into a more positive experience. She recovered very quickly and was ready to go home.

In the moment, I made the decision to wrap my arms around Mandana’s neck to hold her back while I tried to manage the little dog. I knew this would escalate her behavior and it did. She pushed towards the dog but not with much power and she let out a low bark. I could tell she was not happy. She was letting me handle it but was ready to step in if the dog attacked. I could have tried to get her to sit which is what I normally do to prevent a reaction but in this circumstance it would have put us both at more risk. I didn’t want this little aggressive dog to get between us, so I kept her close to my hip in a hug so I could funnel the little dog (who was zoned in on her) towards me instead of having it dodge between us. I think I made the right decision in that circumstance and although I know it worsened her reactivity for now I imagine it was a much better outcome than if the yorkie had actually attacked her.

I haven’t been able to do training around other dogs lately bc that’s a lot of pressure to put on a sick dog but now that she is feeling better it’s back at the top of my priorities. I also need to reconsider the tools I use for dog attacks and make sure I’m able to cycle through them quickly if one or two aren’t working in the moment.