How Much is that Doggie in the Credenza?

Photo credit: Luke Porco

We got a new dog, Duke, two days ago. We adopted him from the Connecticut Humane Society in Westport. We were told that he is a German Shepherd mix. He looks more like a Golden Retriever/Husky mix to us. He might have some German Shepherd in him, but he doesn’t have the long pointy face or ears. He actually looks eerily like our Golden Retriever, Rudy, who died this summer, except for his stocky body.

Speaking of Duke’s stocky body, we were told that he is on a weight-loss diet. He had lost nine pounds since arriving at the shelter and we were encouraged to keep the weight loss going. Boy, did he come to the wrong house. I am not a paragon of clean eating by any means. My family has started to work on his weight, however, with exercise and low-calorie food. Duke needs to buckle down and cooperate, though. Yesterday, he ate my slippers and I happen to know that they’re high in saturated fat.

His weight makes him very broad across the back and rear, so I have had to take his girth into consideration while shopping for a crate. We hope to crate-train Duke, once we figure out what that means. We had the same intention for Rudy, but he refused to go anywhere near his crate.

Maybe it was because it looked like a prison. This time around, I decided to get an attractive crate that looks like a piece of furniture. My sister has a beautiful wood and metal crate for her dog. It’s so pretty that I would consider napping in it.

When I went online and searched for “furniture dog crates” and “wood crates,” I found some unexpected designs. Many of the wood crates on the market are actually pieces of furniture that you keep your dog in.

They’re downright odd. Think about it. You go to someone’s house and put your bag down on their credenza (aka buffet) and are greeted by a dog who is staring at you through the bars. Or, you turn on a lamp at a friend’s house and there’s a puppy inside the side table. Imagine working at your corner desk while your pet nips at your ankles.

Take a look at these crate designs and see if you also think that they’re creepy. I’m a big fan of multi-purpose objects, but as the saying goes, “these ain’t them.”

I think this design came from an animal cracker box.

I wouldn’t want to be around when he finally gets out.

Yes, he is supposed to hang out in there.

Photos from Wayfair.com

New Year’s Dissolution

While everyone else, on this first day of the new year, is thinking about self-improvement, I’ve been contemplating theft. I wouldn’t think twice about going through with it, if it weren’t for my pesky conscience. If I can persuade my conscience that what I’m planning isn’t really stealing, despite indications to the contrary, then I’ll be good to go.

Back around the time the birth control pill was invented, many Catholics started saying that using the pill was not a sin; bringing children into the world that they couldn’t support was the real sin. They claimed that if their consciences were clear, they didn’t sin. I have a friend who calls this kind of Catholic a “cafeteria Catholic,” meaning he or she picks and chooses from the menu of rules. She freely admits that she has an assigned seat in the cafeteria. Many of us see her regularly.

The concept of sinning against your conscience has gained popularity and acceptance in many circles. If you have no conscience, life is a free-for-all, but most of us do, so we have to periodically check in with it before we act. That’s where I am right now.

It all started with my Christmas gift from my husband: a laptop computer. I already have a desktop computer but it’s so riddled with viruses that I have to wear a mask when I use it. A few months ago, I thought it had crashed for good, but I turned it on anyway. I managed to coax it to life long enough to buy and install software that cleaned it up and promised to protect it from attack forever, or until my next payment was due. So, I was back in business, but it was a slow business. It worked, but it took forever to do anything. Then I got a laptop and my internal debate began.

You see, over the years, I had purchased software for my desktop computer and I didn’t want to have to re-purchase it for my laptop. I wanted to transfer everything from my aged desktop onto my laptop and dispose of the desktop. But, I had clicked “I Agree,” when I downloaded or uploaded the various softwares, and one of the things I had agreed to was that I would not transfer it to another device. By clicking “I Agree,” I had agreed, even though what they were asking me to agree to wasn’t fair. But if I didn’t, they wouldn’t have let me buy the software, and where would I be then? I would be without Microsoft Word, Adobe Acrobat, Norton Security, and more. They kind of had me over a barrel.

Now I have to buy it again and I’m not happy about it. If I were going to keep the desktop, then I suppose it would be fair for them to charge me for additional software for my second computer. But I’m not. If I bought a couch when I lived at one house, the furniture company wouldn’t charge me for the couch again if I moved it to another house. I owned it outright. But software doesn’t work that way. I could start a petition, I suppose, but I think I’ll wait for someone more energetic to do it. All I want is my old software transferred to my new computer.

That’s another problem. I bought most of the software online, meaning it was downloaded onto my computer from the mist once I bought it. I should have gone to a store and purchased a disk so I could upload it willy nilly. But I don’t even know if disks are sold anymore. Due to my indolence, I prefer to click and buy. Now I’m paying the price.

So, back to my dilemma: do I download the software onto disks and then upload it onto my laptop (as if I could figure out how to do this!) or do I buy it again?  And while I’m at it, should I print out all of my Kindle books and have them bound at Staples? It annoys me that you can only lend your Kindle book to another Kindle owner if the author has granted permission for lending it. If you own an author’s hardcover or paperback book, you can lend it out to your heart’s content, as long as the lendee returns it (a shout-out to my sister-in-law).

Life was much simpler when you could see and touch things. If I walked into a store and walked out with a disk or a book I didn’t pay for, I wouldn’t have to confer with my conscience; it would be screaming at me (along with the store’s alarm). But when you’re dealing with merchandise that is invisible, sometimes it’s also hard to see the line between right and wrong.

 

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