Hounding

It was 10 a.m. and the smell of pancakes still hung in the air.

Sunday mornings spent leisurely over breakfast with your family just feel categorically and cosmically "right". For those brief few hours no one else seems to exist and nothing else demands your time. The "clink-clink" of forks on plates and the sound of your children's laughter fills the room.

The sun shone outside and brought soft light into the house. We sat there with the boys while they ate their food with their fingers and happily babbled in their baby-speak. Taking our time with everything, it is in these moments that all feels right with the universe.

Pure happiness can and does happen. Sometimes it comes courtesy of pancakes and a weekend morning. I suppose there really is something to simplicity.

I'm not kidding, I felt like I had touched enlightenment last Sunday. The feeling stayed with me throughout the day and I moved through those hours as if I was in on a big secret. We went for a walk, ran some errands, and everything seemed like a gift.

We had also previously agreed to dog-sit that night for this person from church. She had to leave unexpectedly for a funeral and called us up earlier in the week to see if we could help her out. It was no problem. A single night of dog-sitting isn't a big deal.

I drove to her house to pick the dog up in the afternoon. The morning's contentment still moved through me. When I got to the house, I found the dog in the backyard where the owner said she would be. An older dog, medium sized, and seemed very sweet. She shook a little in the legs as older dogs tend to do.

I had to pick her up to put her in the back of the car and drove back home.

This would be fun I thought. A temporary pal for our dog and I knew the boys would be entranced with another animal in the house. I called Heather just before I got home to get everything ready for this new visitor.

Pulling into the garage, I remembered that I had to pick her up to get her into the car, so as I opened up the back hatch I was expecting to have to lift her out once again. What I wasn't expecting was for her to bolt out of the car like someone had just shot her in the ass.

Which is exactly what she did.

She trotted away from the house and I figured she would just check the surroundings out and come right back. That didn't happen. I found myself having to chase after her at a panic-inducing increasing pace. She then began running down the street, and that's when I found myself getting downright frantic.

It was one of those moments that you suddenely find yourself in where things have gone terribly wrong very quickly and you are left thinking "This can't be happening", and yet it was. I was now sprinting down our street and watched her disappear around a far corner. Did I mention I was sprinting? Did I mention I was sprinting in flip-flops?

I finally had to kick the damn flip-flops off my feet as I was now in full marathon mode. The dog got further and further away. I can't remember the last time I ran so fast. For extra panic bonus points she would sometimes run right out into the middle of the road as well. At this point I figured she would either get hit by a car, or disappear completely.

I had no way to contact the woman who owned her, and as I ran like Apollo I played out various scenarios in my head of how I would explain how I lost/killed this dog to the owner when she got back from a funeral. These thoughts put some extra gas in my tank I assure you.

A frantic phone call was made to Heather who promptly put the boys into their playroom and jumped into the car. At this point we were basically abandoning our kids for some dog we didn't even know.

Oh yeah, I was also shouting the dog's name at the extreme top of my voice while running. I can only imagine what that looked like to someone as I sped past their house. A 36 year old man running like his ass was on fire while screaming the most petite of names.

Chloe!!!! Chlllloooooeeee!!! Chloooooooooooooeeeeeeeeeee!!!!

Heather finally shows up. I was completely out of juice, so she jumps out and runs after the dog, and I jump into the car and speed crazily after this dog. Salvation finally came when she ran near a group of kids who Heather yelled at to: "STOP THAT DOG". Thank god for kids man. They love anything like a mission. The 4 adults I passed during this whole insane time merely looked up lazily as they watered their lawn or simply just stared. Adults can be so useless sometimes.

Well, finally we kind of corral this frickin' dog between Heather, me and the group of kids. But she somehow bolts again through us, so I jump back in the car and make a full-on bootleg U-turn. The tires squealed. The kids, in unison, shouted: "Cooooool!!!". It truly was insane. We all caught up with the dog again and this time were able to get our hands on her. I wanted to rip that dog's head off man, but instead gently placed her back in the car.

It wasn't the dog's fault, she was just scared and didn't know what was going on. Some random guy plucks her from homely familiarity, drives her away, and then expects her not to react. Nope, the fault was all mine. In the end she ended up being a very sweet dog, our kids did love her, and it was nice to have two dogs in the house. I, however, had to sit very still for an hour afterwards to catch my breath. I got a whopping blister on my foot and my ankle has felt weird for days since.

The worst part was sheepishly walking back to retrieve my previously abandoned sandals. They sat forlorn on the sidewalk just where I had kicked them off only 10 minutes ago.

But that's life isn't it? At one moment all is right with the universe, and at the next moment you're running your ass off to catch a dog you don't even know.

Steel and chrome...

I first rode on a motorcycle with my father.

I must have been 5 or 6 years old. When he put that helmet on my head I felt like I had been knighted by a king. I don't know why, but little kids LOVE helmets of any kind. He picked me up from under the arms and placed me on the back of his bike.

It was a summer's day in St. Louis. Hot, and the sun was setting. I can still remember it. Somewhere I have a photo of this exact moment. Me, on the the back of my father's bike while he looks towards the camera with a "Don't worry honey!" expression on his face.

The ride itself is blurry in my memory. Lots of speed and clutching on to my old man for dear life. But I guess a seed was planted. Sheesh, it took root and grew like a weed.

I bought my first bike when I was 20. I was in college, and had a real yearning to finally get my own motorbike. I found a very used Honda CB 450 in the classifieds. When I went to see it, the thing was pretty much in pieces. Literally. I paid the guy $250 for it and took the whole lot down to the local motorcycle shop. It took them a week to put it back together. I will always remember when I went to pick it up. They wheeled it out to me and although it was nothing special by any means, to me it looked like the most shining of steeds.

I rode that thing for a couple of years, sold it after graduating and never got back on another bike until 2003.

Now, the 2003 bike was a beauty. A '94 Suzuki Intruder. 800cc's and gorgeous. I have far too many memories to write about this bike in such a sort space. But, to suffice, it was a great way to get back into riding. There was, however, a growing desire in the end to graduate on to other motorbikes.

Well, that finally happened a couple of weeks ago. I now own a 2002 Yamaha Roadstar Warrior, which is quite a mouthful for a bike, but this is quite a bike indeed. 1680cc's of monstrosity. That is more than double my previous engine. In fact, it's more engine than some cars have. Seriously, what a beast. See photo goodness below.

My long suffering wife wasn't overjoyed with this latest purchase, but in the end my zeal and loony fascination with these two-wheeled machines was pretty powerful. I'm sure she was just tired of hearing me talk about "a new motorcycle". So, it was done. This tiger of a vehicle now sits in my garage. It is a work of art in my opinion.

I won't go into boring technical details, but the 200 rear-tire is a sight to behold, and the low end torque on this monster demands one's attention. Not to mention the after-market exhaust which seemingly demands anyone's attention as I ride by. Yes, it's one of those "loud" bikes.

I'm a sucker for that stuff.

To be honest, it's a big bike for anyone to handle. I nurse the thing around town for now as it will take a good while before I get to know it. "Get to know it" is a strange phrase to use for a machine, but anyone who owns a motorcycle will tell you that it is so.

Each one is like a living thing with its own unique personality. Just like people. It takes time to figure out the unique quirks that every bike will have. Its strong points and its weak points. They are all there. So unlike cars, which to me are all basically the same.

I still think back to that summer's evening in St. Louis when a little boy sat on the back of his father's motorcycle. Scared but excited. So thrilled by the speed and fascinated by this machine that was so more intriguing than a car. That feeling stays with me today.

My father's bike was a Yamaha. I can still see the gold letters on the side of the tank. Ironically, it is the same make of bike that now rests in my garage. The shapes are different, the engine is different, many things are different between the two.

But the feeling is the same.

Fleming's discovery, both a blessing and a curse

Heather was out of town a couple of weeks ago. I was with the boys on my own. Normally, I enjoy this time. It is exponentially more hectic, but it gives me a chance to just be with my sons.

On the Wednesday, I get a call from our daycare woman. This is what she says:

"Oooh, I think Lachlan has chicken pox."

Chicken pox??? He's only 13 months old. How could he possibly have chicken pox I'm thinking? I kind of banter this around with my co-workers as I'm trying to decide what to do. One of them asks me if he's had the chicken pox vaccine. Chicken pox vaccine?? They haven't invented such a thing I snort, and walk away.

So, I call Heather and she tells me that INDEED both boys did have this vaccine the previous week. I sheepishly walk back to my co-worker and apologize. He just kinda looks at me with the look reserved for morons, which I am one. I then call the doctor and they say that Lachlan could be reacting to the vaccine, but it should pass in a couple of days.

I pick both boys up from daycare. Lachlan does have some spots, but is otherwise his normal chirpy self. He's fine through the night and I take the kids to daycare the following day.

Well......

I then get another call from our daycare lady the next afternoon. I tell you, if there is ever a phone call I will answer within nanoseconds it's the one that rings which shows her name on my caller ID. She now sounds a bit more frantic and says that it's definitely NOT chicken pox, but something "weird". Weird is not an adjective you ever want to hear when it comes to your child's condition.

I race over to her house and Lachlan not only looks weird, he looks real bad. Swollen purple hives cover half his face, his neck, his arms, his legs.

This would normally be a good time for me to fuh-reak out, but I hold it together, take the boys back home and call the doctor. Of course, it's after-hours at this point so I have to take him to the emergency clinic, which I do quite rapidly. Thankfully, our neighbor watches over Finn while I'm gone.

I wait with Lachlan to see the doctor. People look at him like he's a leper escaped from French Guiana. I have to admit, I would've probably done the same. We're ushered into the doctor's office where he looks Lachlan over for, like, 15 seconds.

"Is this boy on any kind of penicillin?"

I tell him that he is. He's on it for an ear infection.

"Well, not anymore, he's allergic to it."

So, he goes through his treatment regime which includes things like steroids and antihistamines to take the hives away. He assures me it's not a problem, they see it often, and there are many drugs that replace penicillin nowadays. Interestingly, he also tells me that Lachlan could outgrow this allergy as penicillin is, and these are his words, "a weird drug in that way".

I took him home, put both boys to bed, had a beer, and was real tired of anything weird.

UPDATE: Oh yeah, he's fine by the way. Those frickin' hives went away in a couple of days.