LOVIN' THE DOG DAYS OF MY LIFE

EDITOR'S NOTE: I'm in the process of launching my new blog, "Defining Audacity." For the next week, I'll be re-posting some

of my favorite untimely blog posts from "Fire & Motion." This post originally ran in September 2008. "Defining Audacity" officially launches on April 1.

– – –

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CAPTAIN AUGUSTUS McCRAE!

That’s right…my puppy is one year old today (Sept. 22, 2008).

I thought this would be a tremendous opportunity to dedicate a blog post just to him.

First, I want to share a montage of photos that help capture his neurotic first year of life. To make the gallery a little more interesting, I added insets to each picture. The insets depict random items that he has eaten over the last year.

Again, these are items he has actually consumed. I did NOT include things he has chewed up. Here are some of those items:

• 10 water bottles
• 2 pair of shoes (still wearable)
• 1 window ledge
• 2 baseboards
• 2 Texas Rangers caps (one able to be repaired)
• 1 bra
• 6 pairs of panties (including a pair of Tanya’s mom’s underwear)
• 4 rolls of toilet paper
• 1 two-by-four

Here is the photo gallery, with his random fare, and a little commentary on each one: (WARNING: Since we are talking about unorthodox items in his stomach, there is some discriptive discussion about how they got out.)



I recently finished the book “Marley and Me.” It is a tremendous story by John Grogan. The subtitle of his bestseller is: “Life and Love With the World’s Worst Dog.”

After seeing the photo gallery, you probably think I can relate.

Well ... you’re right.

There are times when I think Gus is the most idiotic, stubborn, destructive, and annoying dog in the history of canines.

But there is one part of the book that I can relate to a lot more.

During a tough visit to the vet’s office late in Marley's wonderful life, John (the author) leaned down and said:

“I know you’ve heard me call you the worst dog in the world, but it’s not true. You’re a great dog, Marley. I probably didn’t tell you that enough, but you are a great dog. I love you.”

Gus is the poster dog for neurotic pets, but I wouldn’t have him any other way.

I love him.

He's a GREAT dog.

So now that we've gotten the "bad" things out of the way, let's focus on the good.

They always say when you scold your dog, you should reward them with twice as much affection when they do something right. I had 17 photos depicting his "bad dog eating habits"… here are 38 “atta boys” or “good boys” to show you how Gus has changed my life by grabbing a piece of my heart.

1. I love the fact he slept on my chest the first night he stayed at the house.

2. I love the fact he knows what to do when I say, “kennel up.”

3. I love how he goes into full-body wiggle after he gets a bath.

4. I love that he understands the concept of ringing the bell on our back door when he wants and/or needs to go outside.

5. I love how he looks up
at me with his tongue hanging out during a run – it’s like he’s asking, “How am I doing, daddy?”

6. I love the fact that he is starting to understand “heal” (with the help of
a choke collar AND the threat of getting a shock collar.)

7. I love how he has four main places where he likes to sleep at night –

I also love the fact that one of those four places is NOT our bed.

8. I love the fact that he has already experimented with drugs. (See “Ritalin” slide)

9. I love the fact that he is infatuated with women’s underwear.

10. I love the fact that he can hang with me on runs up to six miles.

11. I love how he can catch a Frisbee in his mouth.

12. I love how I always know where he is when we’re at the dog park – in the shade or next to a cute girl.

13. I love how he’ll lay across my lap with his front legs while I’m sitting in front of the computer. (He just likes 30-second scratches from time to time over the course of the day.)

14. I love how everyone at the vet’s office knows him. (Because he’s been there so many times; some friends and family members refer to him as the Millionaire Dollar Puppy.)

15. I love how he can sense when we’re about leave the house without him (He actually pouts and gives you a look, “are you guys sure I can’t go.”)

16. I love watching him stick his head out the car window. (You can tell he genuinely loves it.)

17. I love how he rolls around on the ground – like he’s on fire – when I start putting on my running shoes.

18. I love he can play fetch (until he gets distracted by a bee or the wind).

19. I love the fact that he only pooped in the house about five times before he realized he was supposed to go outside. (I can’t say we’ve had the same success when he’s spending the night with his cousin, Maverick, or at my parents.)

20. I love the fact that his favorite food is bacon.

21. I love how he gets a “farm hangover.” (After running himself ragged at my parent’s house, he goes into a coma for the next 36 hours.)

22. I love that he gets his feelings hurt when I don’t take him on a run. (He’s usually waiting for me by the door when I get back – his leash close by.)

23. I love the look he gives me when I let him have a raw-hide chew treat. (“Are you sure, daddy?”)

24. I love the fact he knows how to sit, shake hands, and lay down on command.

25. I love how his name, Captain Augustus McCrae, has so many different variations: Gus, Augustus, Gussy, Gusser, Gussaroo, Gustovo, Dumb Ass, etc.

26. I love the fact that he has NEVER met a stranger. (He will greet anyone with a friendly crotch sniff or toe lick.)

27. I love how he finally learned how to lift his leg and pee like a boy dog.

28. I love how he licks the dirty dish dishes as we load them in the dishwasher. (I also love that he knows, understands and respects when the dishes are clean.)

29. I love when I say “sit” you can actually see his wheels turning in his head before he actually sits down.

30. I love he comes running when he hears the icemaker. (He LOVES ice – he thinks they’re frozen rocks.)

31. I love the fact that our mailman, FedEx guy, UPS driver, and meter readers are VERY aware that he lives here.

32. I love he puts his face right in front of the air condition vent when we’re riding in the truck.

33. I love how he ALWAYS keeps me or Tanya company when we’re making dinner. He NEVER leaves our side when we’re handling food in the kitchen.

34. I love it when he lets me scratch his belly.

35. I love it when people stop us on the street and say, “He’s such a beautiful dog.”

36. I love how he uses his nose to flip my arm away from the keyboard when he wants some attention. (It’s like he’s saying, “Daddy, you’ve been working too much. Let’s play.”)

37. I love how he doesn’t care that I had a bad day.

38. I love to see his tail wag. (“Money will buy you a fine dog, but only love can make it wag its tail.”)

I love you, Gusser.

Happy Birthday. (Only two more years – 14 puppy years – until we can share a Shiner Bock.)

It's 5:45 in the morning...DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR NEIGHBOR IS?

EDITOR'S NOTE: I'm in the process of launching my new blog, "Defining Audacity." For the next week and a half, I'll be re-posting some of my favorite untimely blog posts from "Fire & Motion." This post originally ran in October 2009. "Defining Audacity" officially launches on April 1.

– – –

I want to share an e-mail that I recently sent to one of my neighbors. This is in response to a letter she shoved underneath my front door. I won't bore you with her whole letter – which was rather lengthy – but here are the highlights:

• Captain Augustus McCrae (my pooch) woke her up at 5:30 in the morning

• She marched an entire city block – at 5:45 a.m. – to tell me that he woke her up

• I wasn't home to hear her complain

• I'm rude

• She's going to call the city

Here was my response (this is straight from the heart):

Melissa,

My name is Drew Myers and I live at 2509 Honeysuckle. I got your note about my dog raising hell at 5:30 in the morning, and I wanted to drop you a line.

I tried to give you a call, but your line as been busy all evening. (Ironically enough...we had one of your “For Sale By Owner” sheets for a family friend who was interested in your house. I thought your name looked familiar. Your phone number and this e-mail address were listed on the sheet. Lucky for me.)

Anyway...I’m terribly sorry about Gus (my dog).
I HATE the fact he woke you up. I had a business meeting out of town this morning and was going to be gone all day. Instead of leaving him kenneled in the house – like we normally do – I HAD to give him access to the backyard.

Again, I’m very sorry about that.

I did want to address one thing that you implied in your letter....this does NOT happen all the time. Ninety-five percent of the time we are either home OR Gus is in his kennel. Does Gus Bark from time to time? Yes...he’s a dog. That’s one of the reasons why we have him. When people are lurking around our house at 5:45 in the morning...I’m glad he goes crazy.

Anyway...sorry again. If you DO feel inclined to call the city about this isolated incident make sure you give them my cell phone so they can get me anytime (817) 909-XXXX. (If you would like to call and discuss further– don’t hesitate to drop me a line as well.)

NOTE: If for some reason that happens again, just yell and tell him to shut the hell up. (That’s what I do to other peoples’ dogs – including yours.)

Take care,

Drew

Burn Notice: Personal Effects Going Up in Smoke

This Friday, I’m going to burn my high school diploma.

The wonderfully great part of that story – it’s only the start of something much, much bigger: A “Life Bonfire” – my opportunity to purge some of the personal “crap” that I’ve felt compelled to hold on to all these years.

I’m going to torch personal effects like...

• Honors and awards

• Projects

• Random keepsakes

Rationale: I’m going to burn anything that I don’t want to burden others with when I’m gone – high school diploma included.

I got this idea when my great aunt passed away several years ago.

When she died, my mom was responsible for handling all the stuff she left behind. She shared keepsakes with other members of our family, donated some items to charitable causes and sold the rest in an estate sale.

But there were a handful of things – personal, one-of-a kind items – that fell into a unique category. These were keepsakes that only had three logical destinations: A box in a loved one’s attic, in the landfill or on the wall of an Applebee’s.

I asked my mom for some examples of these personal treasures she found at my great aunt's house:

• An autograph book from when my great aunt was in the 7th grade. My mom said it was a popular keepsake for teenage girls, where their friends could write sweet notes to you and/or about that person.

• My great aunt's certificate for Junior Red Cross training. It was probably 85 to 90 years old.

Both very personal items that immediately did not have any relevance or significance with my great aunt gone. I'll admit, it’s a little sad to think about, but it’s part of life, right?

I discovered a long time ago that the picture below is not practical...

...so my solution: "Life Bonfire."

I’ve been thinking about this ceremonial blaze since I walked through my great aunt’s house one last time. That was my opportunity to pick out anything and everything that I wanted to hold on to.

There wasn’t anything.

That might sound harsh and cold, but a 7th-grade autograph book and/or a random certificate weren’t going to enhance the incredible memories I had of my mom's aunt, who was like a third grandmother to me.

The wonderfully great memories I had were enough for me.

Not to mention, I had my own junk that I'd been accumulating for 35+ years.

But that did NOT keep my mom from gently persuading.

“Don’t you want this?”

“How about that?”

Then she mentioned the fire.

"You know whatever we can't rid of, we're probably going to have to burn," she said.

I think it was mainly a take-something-please tactic, but my mom's plea simply made me shift my focus and perspective to my life...to my keepsakes...to my personal “treasures.”

As we drove home that night, I started thinking normal, healthy, every-day thoughts. You know... “What if we were killed in a car accident tonight and someone had to go through all our crap?”

"I don’t want somebody else burning my stuff," I thought to myself. "More importantly, I don’t want it to end up in some box in Crash’s closest so his kids’ kids can donate it to the landfill someday."

“Now who was Drew again, Grandpa Crasher?”

“Why is his mouth open in all these pictures? He looks silly!”

At this point of the post, I think it’s important to share this quick note: I’m not dying and I don’t plan on dying anytime soon. (I’ve got too much to do.) I simply thought a “Life Bonfire” was a chance to reminisce one last time and purge. Take the inevitable into my own hands and live out the Neil Young creed: “It’s better to burn out than to fade away.”

So, that’s what I’m doing.

This Friday night, I’m going to pour me a glass of Jameson, fire up a cigar and stoke a blazing bonfire with some of my "treasures." I might share a story about each item before it's turned to ashes, or I might just tuck my lips, nod my head and sigh as I give it toss into the flames.

I wanted to share some of the things I'm letting go of. Here are some of the general items:

School Projects

Old newspaper articles that I wrote during and after college

Internship Projects

Photos

Certificates and Awards

Race Numbers

Stuff from Former Jobs

Printed Collateral from e-Partners in Giving,

the failed company I started in 2008

Some of the items are a little more unique and personal (Confession: A little harder to part with):

A Letter of Recommendation

My first newspaper story – EVER.

(from Journalism I in ninth grade)

Cartoons and doodles from junior high

My self portrait from my college photography class

My Infamous High School Diploma

FINAL THOUGHTS: I had a couple people read through this before I hit "Publish Post." I had an uneasy feeling. Something didn't feel right.

One of my friends said, "As an outsider, it might sound a little harsh."

That's the last thing I want to come across.

I want to stress how interesting and emotional this personal experiment has been. I've experienced a wave of emotions – from sadness to confusion. I've also debated whether I should actually go through with it.

A countless number of questions have surfaced, like:

• Should I hold on to this stuff and share it with Crash when he's older? Will he care?

• Is getting rid of your parents' and/or grandparents' "treasures" just part of life? Am I denying my grandchildren this opportunity?

• Am I being insensitive and/or hyper-cynical?

• Will I regret this in 10 or 15 years?

• Should I just put this "crap" back in the attic and shut the hell up?

Please know...I'm not discounting these incredible memories – just the trivial symbols associated with them.

My high school graduation was one of the best days of my life. I remember it like it was yesterday. It represented an incredible journey and tremendous hope of things to come. It was a springboard to independence – the first step towards my future and destiny. I remember never feeling more confident, alive and excited. IN. MY. LIFE.

I don't need a piece of paper to enhance that memory.

I'm really curious how other's feel about this. Please share. (And keep the fire extinguisher close by.)

Have You Excepted Jesus? Apparently I Have

Is it weird that I cringe every time someone rings our doorbell?

Part of it has to do with Cpt. Augustus McCrae going ape crazy nuts, which sends Crash into a fit of terror. It's nothing short of awesome (insert sarcasm).

The other part of my apprehension revolves around the fact that I probably don't know the person standing on my front porch. (If I do know them, they're more apt to just walk in. They know Gus is all bark and all crotch sniff.)

Saturday, we got some unexpected visitors.

Cue the Hell Hound!

Cue the shrieks of fright!

I raced to the door – mainly to calm down Gus. There were two gentlemen standing confidently on my front porch, unfazed by the madness they initiated.

"What's up, guys," I asked, peaking my head out the door and trying to keep Gus from acting like he was going to eat them in one bite.

"We're from a local church. Can we ask you a couple of questions?" They were unfazed that my dog was trying to go through me AND the plate-glass door to get to them.

WHY NOT!

"Sure," I said. "I haven't had adult contact in 48 hours...whatcha got?"

They asked my name. I said Greg Jones (my college roommate).

They asked my age. I said 25 (my standard answer since I turned 32).

They asked if I have a church home. "Yes."

I watched as they wrote down my answers on a semi-formal form produced by the church.

"When you die, will you go to heaven?"

"Yes."

Then, they asked the million dollar question: "How do you know?"

"I've accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior."

They expressed their approval of my answer – knowing their door-to-door discipleship could be saved for another house. Then one of the nice gentlemen started writing my answer down on the form.

"Except Jesus..."

I started to correct him, but I stopped myself.

"It doesn't matter," I thought to myself. "You don't have to be a good speller to get to heaven."

Thanks goodnes!

Chalk It Up: Stick People & Cuss Words Be Damned

"Chalking" has significantly evolved since I was a kid. It's come so far that there is an actual term for it..."chalking."

We used to write on the sidewalk and driveway with "chalk rock," and our masterpieces would stay there until the spring monsoons. It was almost like we etched our "art" into the pavement – and it definitely took more than a light rain to clear our canvas.

And let's quickly define "masterpiece" – it was usually a couple stick people with an occasional cuss word.

Things have definitely changed.

Now they have special chalk that comes in more colors than a box of Crayons, and it seems like it washes away if the humidity gets above 85 percent. It's pretty remarkable.

Have you seen the street artists who have taken this medium to another level? It's AWESOME! (Definitely no stick people and f bombs.)

Despite their greatness, these examples were NOT the reason for this post. (Confession: I only added these pictures so I could pin them on Pinterest – and hopefully drive traffic to my blog.)

I wanted to use this post to share a neat idea that we "borrowed" from our neighbors. They capture life's little moments with a camera and a little chalk on the sidewalk. (They're really smart people, but I'm thinking they swiped the idea from somebody, too.)

I'll admit...the photos turn out pretty cute. So, again, like any good neighbor...we stole it. When Crash turned two, TK put her unbeknownst art skills to work on our front porch, and we got this wonderfully great picture of our son.

Confession: I was a little jealous. (Reminder: Chalk rocks and "suck it.")

Sooooo...the next time my neighbors were doing one of their special photo shoots – a tribute to Baby Nell turning 4 months old – I asked if I could get my picture taken.

They obliged, creating a special tribute to my youthfulness – on their driveway.

Needless to say, my "chalking" envy was squashed forever.