Exit Exams

California is one of the states requiring that high school students pass an “exit exam” before getting a high school diploma. Exit exams, in this most recent incarnation, were instituted as a way to address the unpleasant and unpalatable fact that our high schools were graduating large numbers of functionally illiterate and ill-prepared kids. The exit exam by itself does nothing to increase the skill level of graduating students, of course — but it does serve to shine a bright light on those schools that underperform.

Now that we have some actual experience with the exit exam, many people are surprised and dismayed by the very high failure rates. People with children in the primary educational system tend to view these results differently than people who are primarily concerned about the quality of the education provided. Parents tend to be more concerned about their child obtaining a diploma; that milestone is perceived as a kind of certification that is a prerequisite for a career or for further education. It’s the certification that matters most to that audience. Employers (especially) and universities (one would hope) are actually more concerned about the quality of the education, as opposed to the certification. Prior to the requirement of an exit exam, the fact that a student graduated from high school told an employer or university almost nothing about the student’s actual learning achievements — if you could breathe and show up in class once in a while, you’d graduate (and I’m not even sure about these requirements). Now the situation is slightly improved — the student has to at least pass the exit exam. True, the student has four chances, and also true, the exit exam was dumbed down when the initial failure rates were embarassingly high — but still, at least there are some objective criteria being met by each graduating student, where there were none before.

The California Department of Education has a web site that you can use to get some interesting reports about the exit exam results. I selected a summary report for my county (San Diego County), and discovered that 32% of our students failed the math portion, and 31% failed the English language arts part; this is slightly better than the average for the state. In round terms, a third of our students are failing to pass the dumbed-down exit exam. To me (remember — I’m not a parent), this is a loud and clear message: our schools are failing to deliver a quality education! One interesting little factoid: I spot-checked a few San Diego County charter schools, and every one of them had failure rates below 20%, one was below 10%. Elsewhere I’ve read that the failure rates for private schools — which includes such things as Catholic schools in ghettos — is well under 10% on average. And this despite the relatively low funding per student in private schools (yes, there are the exclusive private schools with comparatively enormous budgets — but the overwhelming number of private students are disadvantaged kids attending religious schools). There’s a message in those numbers…and it isn’t the same message we hear from the NEA (or it’s local cell, the CTA).

United 93

This was published in today’s Wall Street Journal. I’m hoping that the nice folks at the WSJ will forgive my reproduction in its entirety; Mr. Beamer’s message is an important one to get out…

From the Wall Street Journal ($):

United 93

By DAVID BEAMER

April 27, 2006; Page A18

The calendar says it’s April 25, 2006. At noon, my wife, Peggy, and I are walking around Battery Park — near the Tribeca area — in New York. It is our first time. The flowers are blooming; kids are fishing; people boarding the ferry to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. Kids are laughing and noisy. The sun is shining. The vendors are hawking T-shirts, pretzels and some “designer” wares. And just up the street there is a hole in the skyline and in the ground.

In the park, there is a memorial with walls standing tall. Walls filled with so many names of those who gave their all in the Atlantic in World War II. How fitting that the names are here to honor those who gave their lives to enable this fun, this laughter — on this sunny day. The sights and sounds of freedom continue.

Fast forward — it is 10:30 p.m., April 25. We have just seen a movie premiere at the fifth annual Tribeca Film Festival. A film festival that has done so much to energize and revitalize the city, its people and especially the area that has that hole in the skyline and in the ground. This year the movie that had its worldwide premiere at the festival is titled “United 93.” It is about the day when the hole in the skyline of New York was made — the day when a hole was made in the side of the Pentagon near Washington, D.C. — the day when a hole was made in a quiet mountain meadow in Pennsylvania. The day that our nation was attacked; the day when the war came home — Sept. 11, 2001. The day our son Todd boarded United 93.

Paul Greengrass and Universal set out to tell the story of United Flight 93 on that terrible day in our nation’s history. They set about the task of telling this story with a genuine intent to get it right — the actions of those on board and honor their memory. Their extensive research included reaching out to all the families who had lost loved ones on United Flight 93 as the first casualties of this war. And Paul and his team got it right.

There are those who question the timing of this project and the painful memories it evokes. Clearly, the film portrays the reality of the attack on our homeland and its terrible consequences. Often we attend movies to escape reality and fantasize a bit. In this case and at this time, it is appropriate to get a dose of reality about this war and the real enemy we face. It is not too soon for this story to be told, seen and heard. But it is too soon for us to become complacent. It is too soon for us to think of this war in only national terms. We need to be mindful that this enemy, who made those holes in our landscape and caused the deaths of some 3,000 of our fellow free people, has a vision to personally kill or convert each and every one of us. This film reminds us that this war is personal. This enemy is on a fanatical mission to take away our lives and liberty — the liberty that has been secured for us by those whose names are on those walls in Battery Park and so many other walls and stones throughout this nation. This enemy seeks to take away the free will that our Creator has endowed in us. Patrick Henry got it right some 231 years ago. Living without liberty is not living at all.

The passengers and crew of United 93 had the blessed opportunity to understand the nature of the attack and to launch a counterattack against the enemy. This was our first successful counterattack in our homeland in this new global war — World War III.

This film further reminds us of the nature of the enemy we face. An enemy who will stop at nothing to achieve world domination and force a life devoid of freedom upon all. Their methods are inhumane and their targets are the innocent and unsuspecting. We call this conflict the “War on Terror.” This film is a wake-up call. And although we abhor terrorism as a tactic, we are at war with a real enemy and it is personal.

There are those who would hope to escape the pain of war. Can’t we just live and let live and pretend every thing is OK? Let’s discuss, negotiate, reason together. The film accurately shows an enemy who will stop at nothing in a quest for control. This enemy does not seek our resources, our land or our materials, but rather to alter our very way of life.

I encourage my fellow Americans and free people everywhere to see “United 93."

Be reminded of our very real enemy. Be inspired by a true story of heroic actions taken by ordinary people with victorious consequences. Be thankful for each precious day of life with a loved one and make the most of it. Resolve to take the right action in the situations of life, whatever they may be. Resolve to give thanks and support to those men, women, leaders and commanders who to this day (1,687 days since Sept. 11, 2001) continue the counterattacks on our enemy and in so doing keep us safe and our freedoms intact.

May the taste of freedom for people of the Middle East hasten victory. The enemy we face does not have the word “surrender” in their dictionary. We must not have the word “retreat” in ours. We surely want our troops home as soon as possible. That said, they cannot come home in retreat. They must come home victoriously. Pray for them.

Mr. Beamer is the father of Todd Beamer, a passenger on United Airlines Flight 93.

What he said. Especially the last paragraph…

Miki Journal

Miki is our brand-spanking new, 10 week old male field spaniel puppy. Very early this past Sunday morning, we brought Miki home, after an epic trip to pick him up from his breeder (Sheila Miller). He’s now been with us for four days and nights, has gotten to know myself, my lovely wife Debbie, our other two field spaniels (Mo’i and Lea), and most our nine cats. Lots of progress in just a few days. And a most amazingly different experience with our first two field spaniel puppies. For starters, Miki is not making any fuss at night, and we still haven’t had a single “accident” in the house. The experience with Miki is profoundly different, and in entirely positive ways.

If you knew our first two puppies, you’d wonder how this could possibly be. Their heart-rending screams on the first night we had them home and in their crates were impossible for us to withstand — they slept on the bed with us within a few minutes, and the crates were completely forgotten. Our experience with Lea and “accidents” was so vivid that when we bought our new home we made sure we had waterproof padding beneath our all-synthetic carpets — and we were very glad of that when we brought Mo’i home. Neither of them took long to house-train, but in the interim their “production” was prodigious. And emotionally they had us completely wrapped around their little paws. I’m sure they laugh about it even today…

The difference: sticking with the crate training. That’s really the only significant thing we’re doing differently.

Miki made it easy for us on the first night — we put him in his crate, put the crate on a chair in our bedroom (so he could see us), and he settled down after just a few minutes of heart-rending shrieks. I’m not sure if it was our prior experience, Debbie’s much higher level of motivation (she wants Miki trained right for agility), or the glasses of wine we had before bed — but somehow this time we made it through drama boy’s piteous performance. After that, he just shut up and went to sleep. Just like that. And we had a night of peace, as we have each night since. During the day, he spends quite a bit of time in his crate. Miki clearly thinks of it as “his” home; he often goes in voluntarily while playing, and curls up for some rest. Once, one of our cats (Maka Lea) had occupied his crate in his absence, and the discovery of him in there was a shocking and upsetting event for poor little Miki — you could almost hear him say “But but but that’s MINE! Get your sorry, hairy, feline butt out of my crate!” Each time we take Miki out of the crate, we take him immediately outside to do his business — which usually he is quick to do, and much relieved for having done so. Then it’s back inside for some training and some play, then back into the crate he goes (with a little treat as a reward).

Crate training works. We’re believers now, and kicking ourselves for not having perservered with Mo’i and Lea. Sigh.

Miki has started to learn some important lessons already. He’s learned that if you get right in the face of a 45 pound adult male field spaniel, you’re going to get a terrifying set of jaws snapping back at you. He’s learned that if he bites mom or dad too hard, a piercing shriek loud enough to roll you over in a couple of backwards somersaults will be your reward. And he’s learned that if he acts in a manner that any cat deems unacceptable, he’ll hear a demonic hiss that is followed posthaste by the supersonic swipe of a fully-clawed feline paw. In other words, little Miki is learning that the world has some boundaries. He also seems to be just barely beginning to grasp the notion that if he does something that mom or dad likes — or asks for — that a tasty snack is the result. Miki really, really likes those tasty little snacks, too <smile>.

The training of the new owners (Debbie and I) started last night, with the first session of the badly mis-named “Puppy Class”. It really should be called “Remedial Puppy Owner Class” or some such thing; that would be much more accurate. We’re learning how we should behave in order to seduce our puppy into behaving the way we want him to. The instructor, using small words that could be understood by any average California adult (e.g., 3 letters or less), carefully described the basic theory of “puppy training”. So far as I could tell, it all boils down to this: place chunks of the very best corn-fed Iowa beef somewhere between where the puppy is now, and where you want him to be. Each chunk should be approximately one-half the size of the puppy. With a series of a few hundred such bribes (per hour), the puppy will be happy to do whatever you want him to do, until he gets full. I figure we’ll need somewhere between 7 and 9 Angus per week for starters; more when Miki grows up.

To be continued…

The rest of the pictures (click on the small pictures for a larger version):

NASA Priorities

Michael Griffin, shortly after his appointment as the new NASA chief, said that “not one thin dime” would be removed from NASA’s already sadly deficient science budget. He said this in response to the loudly voiced concerns of scientists both inside and outside NASA. Their concerns revolved around the fact that the shuttle and the space station were budgetary monsters that were eating all the dollars at NASA, at the expense of hard science.

Those words greatly cheered me at the time.

Now we know: Michael Griffin lied. I say lied, and not something milder like “mispoke” or “was mistaken", because Mr. Griffin was fully armed with all the basic facts about the NASA budget and priorities. He knew that he couldn’t possibly make manned flight NASA’s highest priority and still keep the science budget intact. Yesterday he made all this very clear:

NASA Chief Michael Griffin, testifying before Congress:

"I believe that fulfilling our commitments on the International Space Station and bringing the Crew Exploration Vehicle online in a timely manner, not later than 2014 and possibly sooner, is a higher priority than these science missions."

So there you have it.

Unless something very dramatic happens, NASA’s science budget will be looted for the next decade — or, more likely, for even longer — in order to prop up the manned space flight program.

The same manned space flight program that has produced nothing of value for the past 30 years. The one that President Bush has committed to returning to the moon as a first step to a manned mission to Mars. We’re going to spend billions and billions of dollars, put dozens of brave men and women in harm’s way, all for no practical reason that I’ve ever heard anyone articulate. I hear lots of blather about “exploration” and “vision", and Columbus is often invoked.

Well, Columbus had a mission and a practical purpose — he thought he was going to get rich by discovering a new route to India. There is no such reason for going to Mars, folks! It makes no economic sense to bring back minerals (or any other materials) from either the moon or Mars. The only space-based project I’ve heard that even comes close to practicality is earth-orbit power stations — and moving towards something like that is an entirely different development effort than is needed for visiting Mars. If we wanted to develop earth-orbit power stations (and I’m not advocating this idea; just citing it as an example), we’d be concentrating on the development of low-cost methods for orbiting the vast quantities of materials that would be needed for building large solar collectors.

I think it’s a darned shame that we’re squandering a chance to doing something truly magnificent — hard science in space — in order to do something with a Hollywood-like combination of glitz and serious lack of substance. It seems to fit in well with the times, sadly…

Tony Snow

The media is full of reports that Tony Snow has accepted the position of White House press secretary. The moonbats are (very predictably) all atitter over the many criticisms Tony has made of the Bush administration (all in the course of his work as an unabashedly conservative columnist and commentator). The conservatives seem to be mostly supportive of the pick, often citing Tony’s polish, quick wit, and camera presence.

Ordinarily I would care very little who is selected for the position of White House press secretary — other than some entertaining dialog with the almost uniformly barking moonbat White House press corps, there’s been little of lasting value or import from that position no matter who was in it. But the selection of Tony Snow has my attention, for a few reasons.

Most importantly, I just plain like and admire the guy. His plain-spoken, heartfelt commentary has always appealed to me, even when I disagreed with his conclusions or positions. Reading of his battle with colon cancer was inspiring; some of his words on the subject had me reaching for the box of tissues. And he gives every appearance of having in abundance that old-fashioned and now distressingly rare journalistic virtue: integrity.

An interesting twist to his appointment is that it’s hard to imagine Tony Snow mindlessly spinning a position with meaningless hyperbole (it’s that integrity thing, you know). I can’t say the same about any other White House press secretary in memory. It’s equally hard to imagine Tony Snow being bested in a verbal sparring match with any barking moonbat in the White House press corps — or even anyone that the lamestream media could field. Tony is a very bright guy, fully capable of demolishing an uninformed (or under-equipped) moonbat’s argument. I just can’t see Tony Snow getting flustered into making some dumb statement, or into letting some lamestream assertion stand unmolested.

In short, I think that the Bush administration just made a most interesting choice; one that will create sparkle and sizzle in a usually colorless (and thankless) position. I’m looking forward to a little shock and awe in the White House’s press relationship.

It’s badly needed, Tony — get to work!

Gasoline Prices

Yesterday I wrote about why gasoline prices are higher, and why gasoline is not yet overpriced. But I forgot to include one little factoid that brilliantly illuminates the hypocrisy of the gasoline price yammering of both our legislators and the liberal’s lapdog lamestream media. It is this:

Fact 1: The oil company’s profits last year, in toto, were between 6 to 9 cents per gallon, depending on whose estimate you care to believe.

Fact 2: In my county (San Diego County, California), the total gasoline taxes (federal, state, local, and indirect) are about 60 cents per gallon; in other states the amount varies, but in all cases it is similarly high.

If the definition of gouging is the extraction of unreasonable profits from a product, especially by monopolistic methods — then isn’t it our government who’s the big gouger? With ten times the “gouge factor” of those nasty, evil oil companies?

Ponder this the next time you hear some public talking head decrying the “gouging” of the oil companies…

Gasoline Prices

Reading some of the breathless press reports, you’d think the world was about to end, and all because of high gasoline prices — which many in the lamestream media just assume (or they’ll slyly imply) is due to the relentless gouging of the consumer by those evil oil companies. The harping about the package earned by the retiring Exxon CEO, complete with unflattering photograph, is a typical example of the mindless sniping of the media. Unfortunately for all of us, it’s also apparently typical of the shallow “thinking” of the average American consumer.

Gasoline prices have most definitely gone up. I felt the pain myself during a recent trip of almost 2,000 miles in our gaz-guzzling SUV.

But the reason for this increase is not gouging by the oil companies. If you’re looking to place the blame for high prices, look to your political representatives — for it is their anti-business legislation and policies that are the biggest cause of high gasoline prices. Skeptical? Consider these points:

1. The global demand for oil is growing faster than the global supply for oil, and has been for decades. You don’t have to be a professional economist to be aware of the inevitability of price increases under these conditions (though many in the lamestream media appear to be blissfully ignorant of this). Why is global demand rising? The current biggest drivers are China and India, with a healthy contribution from the rest of the developing world. The United States is still by far the biggest consumer of oil, but the growth (the most important part in understanding the price rises) is primarily coming from elsewhere. Why isn’t the supply rising as quickly as the demand? Well, here’s one component: the largest undeveloped oil fields remaining in the world are all in North America — the oil offshore from California and Florida, the oil fields in Alaska, and the vast oil shale deposits in the western United States and in Canada. What’s stopping those from being developed? Your political representatives, that’s who. Of course, they’re reacting to what they believe their constituents want, so take a good look in the mirror while you’re at it.

2. The FTC has had a team of people watching gasoline prices for several years now. Their entire job is to watch for gouging — and they have utterly failed to find it. Even the reports about gouging during the recovery from hurricane Katrina have largely turned out to be false. If a team of professionals can’t find evidence of gouging, why do Americans still believe it exists?

3. Spot shortages (temporary gasoline shortages in a particular area for reasons unrelated to global supply and demand) are a big driver for short-term price changes. The United States has a plague of spot shortages, and has had for many years. Why is this? It turns out that some of the biggest contributions to current spot shortages are the direct result of political interference: the ethanol mandate, the MTBE fiasco, and number of fuel mixes required in the United States. The ethanol mandate was passed by Congress as a sop to the agricultural interests — it requires that over 17 billion gallons of ethanol be used as an oxygenate in fuels by the year 2012. Trouble is, our domestic ethanol production can’t even begin to keep pace with this mandated “demand”. Then to make it worse, the legislators — the ones we all elected — added a 54 cents per gallon tariff to imported ethanol. The MTBE fiasco just exacerbates the ethanol problem. MTBE is the only practical alternative oxygenate to ethanol currently available. Decades ago, its use was mandated by Congress to reduce pollution. Now that we’ve discovered that MTBE itself is a dangerous pollutant, the manufacturer’s of MTBE (remember, its use was mandated) are exposed to liablity suits — and Congress has refused to immunize them. So (what a surprise!), the MTBE manufacturers are dropping production as fast as they can do it — so ethanol is the only remaining oxygenate available, and between the domestic shortage and the import tariff ethanol is costing the oil companies nearly $3 a gallon to buy. Of course that gets reflected in the price at the pump. Thank you, legislators (not!). Last, but certainly not least, is the crazy patchwork quilt of “boutique” fuels required by various local legislation in the United States — 17 different fuel mixtures at last count. These requirements mean that every national oil refinery has to make a guess at what combination of 17 different fuels will most closely match the demand. The state where I live (California), just as an example, has a unique set of fuel requirements all to itself. If my state’s consumption of gasoline goes up by a couple of percent in a manner unanticipated by the refiners (a nice weekend can do that), then the refiner can’t simply ship a little more from, say, Idaho — that nasty Idaho gasoline wouldn’t be allowed in our state. So a spot shortage develops and prices shoot up — needlessly. Whose fault is that? Why, it’s those goldarned dumb-as-a-stump legislators again — the ones that the even-dumber-than-a-stump electorate sent to office.

Repeat after me: gasoline prices are not higher because of price gouging by oil companies. Instead, gasoline prices are higher because of brain-dead, anti-business legislation passed by legislators elected by us. The best way to change this would be to elect smart, pro-business legislators. Where we get them, or the voters who would vote for them, is a mystery that I have no clue how to solve. It’s enough, some days, to make one feel a bit hopeless. Especially the “voters” part…

Then there’s a whole 'nother issue, on which I’ve pontificated before, but which is guaranteed to get a bunch of people foaming at me. It’s this: gasoline prices are not too high. Gasoline is still a spectacularly good value for the money, and I can prove it easily — just look at how people behave. When any item is priced above its value, people find ways to avoid using it. For example, gold sheets make a very nice roof — fireproof, attractive, non-tarnishing — but very few people roof their house with gold, as it costs too much. It’s not a good value as a roofing material, and their behavior reflects that. Now consider how people behave with gasoline. Do they act like they believe it’s not a good value? Not hardly! The easiest, most painless ways to avoid consuming gasoline are assiduously avoided. We drive 70 MPH on the freeway, even though we all know that we’d save (a lot!) of gasoline by driving at 55 MPH instead — and how hard would that be, really? If we thought gasoline wasn’t an outstanding value, then most people would be driving at 55 MPH (or even less) — and that observably ain’t a happening thing. Sales of gas-guzzling cars aren’t appreciably slowing; most people still drive by themselves to work; most of us make many short, spontaneous (and convenient) trips instead of carefully planning. I could go on and on, but the bottom line is this: very, very few Americans are behaving as though they really believed gasoline was overpriced — we’re just whining because the price went up.

So repeat after me: gasoline prices are not unreasonably high. In fact, they are an extremely good value — a bargain when compared with most things we buy. Gasoline is so cheap that I’m going to use just as much of it as I want to, on the slightest whim — and I’ll continue to do so until and if prices rise to the point where it doesn’t seem like such a terrifically good deal. That would be somewhere around $8 or $10 a gallon, I suspect…

Wisdom and Humor

Will Rogers, who died in a plane crash with Wylie Post in 1935, was probably the greatest political sage America has ever known. Enjoy the following:

1. Never slap a man who’s chewing tobacco.

2. Never kick a cow chip on a hot day.

3. There are 2 theories to arguing with a woman…neither works.

4. Never miss a good chance to shut up.

5. Always drink upstream from the herd.

6. If you find yourself in a hole, stop digging.

7. The quickest way to double your money is to fold it and put it back in your pocket.

8. There are three kinds of men: The ones that learn by reading, the few who learn by observation, and the rest of them have to pee on the electric fence and find out for themselves.

9. Good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment.

10. If you’re riding' ahead of the herd, take a look back every now and then to make sure it’s still there.

11. Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier’n puttin' it back.

12. After eating an entire bull, a mountain lion felt so good he started roaring. He kept it up until a hunter came along and shot him. The moral: When you’re full of bull, keep your mouth shut.

ABOUT GROWING OLDER…

First ~ Eventually you will reach a point when you stop lying about your age and start bragging about it.

Second ~ The older we get, the fewer things seem worth waiting in line for.

Third ~ Some people try to turn back their odometers. Not me, I want people to know “why” I look this way. I’ve traveled a long way and some of the roads weren’t paved.

Fourth ~ When you are dissatisfied and would like to go back to youth, think of Algebra.

Fifth ~ You know you are getting old when everything either dries up or leaks.

Sixth ~ I don’t know how I got over the hill without getting to the top.

Seventh ~ One of the many things no one tells you about aging is that it is such a nice change from being young.

Eighth ~ One must wait until evening to see how splendid the day has been.

Ninth ~ Being young is beautiful, but being old is comfortable.

Tenth ~ Long ago when men cursed and beat the ground with sticks, it was called witchcraft. Today it’s called golf.

And finally ~ If you don’t learn to laugh at trouble, you won’t have anything to laugh at when you are old.

Puppy Journal

The latest installment in Sheila Miller’s “Puppy Journal” — a diary of her experiences raising the litter of puppies that our little Miki was one of…

This week was my spring break (finally!!!) and I usually go back to school with stories of some home improvement or garden project, or at least a clean house. :-) All I did this week was take of the puppies. It was nice to be home with them and be able to get them outside more often.

Monday was our trip to Reno for eye checks. We got a late start due to awakening to heavy spring snow blanketing everything. The shade cloths in my kennels collapsed and I had to dig them out before I left. Just when you think it is safe to put away the snow shovel…

The road to Reno was sloppy but good. We made it in time to visit with Ken and Diana Braunstein and their dogs Emma (Sayward, Crockett, and Moi’s sister) and Sherlock (rescue). Ken and Diana are always so good about opening their beautiful home to puppies and Emma and Sherlock couldn’t be better with puppies than their own mother. Eye checks went well. The Dr. said, “perfect”. I ran a couple of quick errands and we were back on the road home. I was hoping we could drive the four hours in one shot but they definitely reminded me that 3 hours was their limit.

Tom and Karen Gracz arrived at my house Tuesday morning to pick up their puppy. Wow. They drove all the way out from WI literally through tornadoes, driving rain, and blizzards. Karen told me, “All the sign said was 'Winter Conditions Over Parley'. What’s Parley"? Now they know as does anyone who has entered UT from WY on I-80 (or vice versa). The weather was good when they got here (though muddy from the previous day’s snow) and they stayed a couple of hours to play with, study, and go over each puppy. Karen brought toys and Tom shot off his starting pistol. After much careful thought, Karen packed up White Boy and they started for home. She made the right choice because I started crate training him and had his bags packed the night before. :-) White Boy (black male) will soon be “Wolftree’s One Over Par", call name “Bogey”. He is related to Tom and Karen’s previous FS Casey (1/2 brother to grandma Juno, littermate to great, great grandma Chevy) and his daughter Keeper. Bogey is going to have a great life in WI.

I had to run a few errands in town on Wednesday and I was just too plain lazy to put the puppies in their big x-pen (I didn’t want to clean it again when I got home) so I decided the puppies needed more practice riding in crates (like the 3,000 miles under their belts wasn’t enough). I’m glad I brought them. I ran into our music teacher and her two little girls at the Post Office. I asked her if her girls would like to see the puppies. Would they ever! We went over to their house and let the puppies and girls loose in the fenced yard. I love to watch young children with puppies. They speak to them like they were people. It is so charming and innocent. :-) After the play time, I listened to Keetna’s (spelled wrong I’m sure) piano recital and then watched little Kyra work the monkey bars hand over hand. Pretty impressive.

Since this was my spring break, Thursday meant working in my classroom. :-( I’m sure something happened on Friday but nothing memorable.

Saturday was another going home day. Tom and Debbie Dilatush drove over 800 miles to pick up their new agility prospect (Blue Boy) and to transport Purple Girl to her new home near them. Blue Boy (liver male) tested high for trainability and also scored high in physical structure. Tom picked him up and huffed, “This is a lot of dog”. Very true. I reminded them that he was also one of the top show prospects in the litter so that means he needs to keep his hair and his testicles. :-) Tom brought tons of camera gear and took enough pictures to fill a daily calendar. Debbie brought a plethora of toys to tempt the puppies. Cheyenne, my shy dog, couldn’t resist those toys. She gingerly entered the living room, carefully picked up one toy, and then slowly retreated back to the bedroom with her prize. I’m sure she was thinking, “If I don’t look at them, then they can’t see me”. :-)

Blue Boy will soon be “Wolftree’s Wild Card", call name “Miki”. Miki is Hawaiian for “Agile One”.

Purple Girl (liver girl) has gone to Poway, CA (San Diego) to live with Richard and Judy Shriver and their aging Welsh Springer. Those who have been in the breed awhile will know of their previous FS. Their Smokey was a littermate to Higgins. So their puppy is also related to their past dog (Grandma Juno is a Higgins daughter, Smokey niece). Richard and Judy are still mulling over an appropriate name. Sometimes you just have to live with a puppy before you know the right name.

So I am now down to three 10-week old puppies, Yellow Boy (black male) whom I am calling Bo for the time being (you know, because he wore a yellow ribbon <groan> ), Green Boy (liver boy) who doesn’t have a moniker that sticks yet (today I was trying out “Amigo"), and Pink Girl (black bitch) who I have decided to keep. Her name will be “Wolftree’s Stardust” in keeping with an astronomical theme I started with Juno. Stardust is the comet-catching spacecraft that flew over my house this winter on its way to landing in UT. It fits Pink Girl because she still has stardust on her face. Her call name is “Lucy” (think Lucy in the sky with diamonds…) Of course, her markings look more like black pearls than diamonds. :-) I’m going to write more about the futures of these three puppies later this week.

Since I am on spring break AND it is a Sunday, that meant that I spent most of the day in my classroom. :-( Unfortunately, that time turned out to be the nicest part of the day. I came home and gave the puppies lunch and a little walk and then walked my old chessies True and Mercy. A spring storm was swirling around the mountains. We were in bright sunshine but the mountains just got darker and darker. Lots of thunder rumbling and I could see sheets of rain falling and a few lightning strikes. We made it back to the house in time to take the puppies out to potty one more time and then back in the x-pen. They aren’t too happy today being confined but better that than in the rain. The black sky moved over my house and it has been raining steadily for over three hours. The road is a mess and the grass is growing! My mower still isn’t fixed so crap.

Do you remember the early days of this journal when I would comment on life with the Dura-Whelp? Well, those troubles ended about the same day my troubles with the AKC began. Just over two years ago, I leased Picabo from Debbie, Sandy, and Carla. I did everything by the book and had my lease papers signed, sealed, and delivered by the time of the breedings. The AKC sent me my lease notification and a note telling me that I forgot to include the litter registration. I told them the puppies weren’t born yet. They said breeders usually send them in together. OK. This time around, I sent the lease papers in after the puppies were born along with the litter registration. About three weeks later I received the lease notification. The very next day I received a letter from the AKC stating that I was the litter owner but they were unsure who the breeder was. I made a mistake on the lease form and it would cost me another $15.00 and three or four weeks to correct. Damn.

I was mad at myself but got the needed signatures and wrote another check. Then began my almost daily checks at the AKC web site to check on the paperwork progress. It was always listed “pending” or “under review”. Monday morning, the day of the eye checks, I called AKC and asked what was happening. The customer service operator told me everything was in order, I was the breeder and litter owner, she gave me the litter number, and told me the registration papers would go out in today’s mail. Good news!

On Tuesday, Debbie received an e-mail from AKC congratulating her on her new litter of Field Spaniels and that she would be receiving the papers in x days. Oh that can’t be good. I went to the web site and the litter was there but I wasn’t. I paid $15.00 to AKC to lease Picabo but did my second $15.00 de-lease her? I called on Wednesday and this time it was AKC’s SNAFU. My paperwork was correct but instead of releasing Debbie and Sandy, they released me. She admitted it was their mistake but thought that maybe I had confused them by sending in the lease papers with the registration application!!! Here is the most interesting part of the call. I asked her how long this would take to fix. She replied, “Well, you know this is Wednesday”. What the heck does that mean? Is Wednesday code for “holiday"? It is going to take a few more weeks to straighten out. I was so mad all I could do was shampoo my living room carpet (just water though because of the puppies). I almost thought I was going to have to do my ironing but there is no point going overboard. :-)

On behalf on younger siblings Bogey, Miki, whatsername, Lucy, Bo, and whatisname, I would like to congratulate big sister Ruby on gaining her tracking certification this weekend. She is now eligible to try for her TD. Congratulations Julie and good luck to you and Ruby!

Sheila Miller

Wolftree Acres

Nevada, USA

sdmiller@the-onramp.net

Puppies!

Meet Miki, the newest addition to our household (and the third of the field spaniel persuasion)! He’s 10 weeks old, mostly liver (isn’t that an awful name for such a beautiful color?!) but with some white on his chest and a few other places. We’re not sure how much of the white will survive puppyhood, but so far as we’re concerned the more the merrier! Miki (MEE kee) is a Hawaiian word meaning agile, quick, or nimble — perfect for a dog who is destined to be an agility champion, if Sheila Miller (our breeder, in photo at right) and Debbie have anything to say about it. Debbie (my lovely wife) has been handling our two field spaniels (Mo’i and Lea) in agility competitions for several years now — and Mo’i is currently the number two field spaniel nationally. Debbie has already started training Miki (not agility yet, but the basics), and this little field spaniel is going to be studying and practicing hard for the next few years. He has a job, you see — to be a most excellent agility dog and conformation show dog. We have high expectations for little Miki…

We drove all day Friday from Jamul, California (our home) to Battle Mountain, Nevada (Sheila’s home) on Friday. Sheesh, what a long and frustrating drive — 945 miles of freeway, through the Los Angeles clogs, the Sacremento rush hour, and road construction (looked like destruction to me!) in Reno. We had just one adventure: we nearly ran out of gas on the last stretch into Battle Mountain. We were saved by a gas station in the tiny little town of Valmy. When we finally made it into Battle Mountain (at 9:30 pm, after leaving at 6:15 am) we wanted a bite to eat and perhaps a glass of wine. As we rolled into the motel, we spied a homey-looking little place — Mama’s Pizza — right next to the motel. So we threw our stuff into the room and walked over, only to find out that Mama’s closed at 8:30. What kind of pizza place closes at 8:30 on Friday night? So we drove down the street a bit until we found the Owl Club — the sign said “family dining” — where we parked and went in. After wading through choking cigarette smoke past several ranks of electronic slot machines, we found a nice little diner-style restaurant with a very friendly waitress. So we had our glass of wine and split a sandwich, then headed off for bed.

Saturday morning we got up about 5:30 am, checked out, and had a big breakfast at the Owl Club. Then we set off to find Sheila’s house — I had it located on my GPS, but I wasn’t sure how to get there. We still had over an hour to kill before getting to Sheila’s house, as we’d promised not to darken her doorway before 8:00 am (she’s not quite the early bird that we are). It turned out to be a very good thing that we left early, as the map in my GPS turned out to be defective. Sheila’s street was (in the GPS) a couple of miles away from where it really was! I drove out to where the GPS thought her street was, couldn’t find it, and stopped to ask a couple of people working in their yard. They allowed as how they’d never heard of the street I was searching for, and gave me encouraging words about looking “over there", while each pointed in a different direction. To make matters even worse, we had stupidly neglected to write down Sheila’s phone number before leaving. Sigh. So we decided to try our memories — after all, we’d been here twice before, even if that was six or seven years ago. And amazingly enough, our memories actually worked! We drove back to town, then headed out using the directions we vaguely remembered from all those years ago when we picked up Lea and then Mo’i. And we drove straight into Sheila’s driveway — though we were only certain we had the right place when Sheila came out to greet us.

Of course, Sheila really came out to greet Mo’i and Lea — and she looked very surprised, and disappointed, to discover we hadn’t brought them. But we figured the trip back was going to be enough confusion and work with two puppies (Miki for us, and the tentatively named “Mayhem” that we brought back for Richard and Judy Shriver, in Poway). And with 20/20 hindsight, I think we made the right choice — two adult dogs plus two puppies in the back of the old SUV would have been a bit much, I think. But poor Sheila only gets to see her Southern Californian canine babies at long intervals, and we hated to disappoint her…

We had a lovely couple of hours visiting with Sheila, the five remaining puppies in this litter, and the five adult field spaniels (including both of the litter’s parents) there. Most of the pictures below were taken in Sheila’s fenced yard, out in a typical Nevada sagebrush valley — broad flatlands between big mountain ranges. We’ve spent time, in years past, in the Ruby Mountains not far east of Battle Mountain, and also at Great Basin National Park, a bit further to the southeast of her. It’s beautiful country, and (like our area) especially at this time of year…

The drive back was relatively uneventful. The puppies were both very easy travelers; no problems there at all. And we stopped frequently enough to avoid any “accidents” in the car. Most of the time, both puppies were very contentedly asleep in their crates — testimony to all hard work of conditioning that Sheila has done, including lots of “practice” car riding. These two were “old vets", and nothing about the trip alarmed them — police sirens, big bumps, and even two adults in the front seat yelling “yaaack!” or some such unintelligible thing upon witnessing an accident unfolding right along side them — all passed unnoticed by the little puppers.

The highlight of the trip home, by far, was our stop at the Shriver’s home in Poway to drop off their puppy. We’d called them earlier to offer the drop off service (Poway is right along our way home), rather than have them travel out to see us to pick her up. But the offer came with a catch: they had to be willing to meet us at the late hour we’d be driving through. I was talking to Richard for this conversation, but I could clearly hear Judy in the background saying something like “You tell them to stop here no matter what the hour is!” Dog people, for sure <smile>. As it happened, it was almost 2:00 am by the time we got to their house, but we’d kept them informed as we approached, and they were all ready for our arrival. Debbie carried Mayhem in, and we stood their yakking for a few minutes with the Shriver’s with Debbie still holding the puppy before it dawned on Debbie that it was their puppy, and they might want to hold it (in our defense: we were very tired). Poor Judy — I could how badly she wanted to hold that little puppy, but she somehow restrained herself from whacking Debbie upside the head, and waited until Debbie came to her senses and handed little Mayhem over. We got to meet their Welsh Springer briefly, and Debbie got a cup of coffee, but we stayed only briefly as we desperately wanted to get to our own home, and get some rest. Which we did, posthaste. Sunday we had what Sheila described (quite accurately) as a “hangover"; it was only this morning that I felt whole again…

As usual, click on any of the small pictures to get a larger version…