Note: This diary is in support of an ongoing crowdfunding effort by the North American Indian Center of Boston (NAICOB). The funding will play a crucial role in helping regenerate the building they've occupied for the last 40 years. Please help in any way you can - ideally, by Rec'ing and sharing as widely as you can, and if time and finances allow, with whatever you can provide to help with the fundraising effort. Times are tight for many of us - simply sharing news of this effort is more than appreciated. Please read on, and thank you.
Everything in life presents challenges: sometimes, those challenges are presented in a way to encourage us to test ourselves, to push our limits or to motivate us toward achieving something we might otherwise not have noticed. Sometimes these challenges present us with opportunities to help others, in such a way that we are paying forward any help or opportunities that we may have received. And sometimes, the challenge is simply reach out and help others, to make the world a better place - one person, one action, one challenge at a time.
Yes, there are other types of challenges in life - those which face us that we did not ask for, which hold us back unless or until we can overcome them, and that threaten the path we set for ourselves. Those are the types of challenges which, when faced with them, we could use the help of others - sometimes directly, but many times simply through the indirect acknowledgement and recognition of the issues facing us, and encouragement as we work through them.
Today, I'm going to challenge you to do something to help the North American Indian Center of Boston (NAICOB), and I'm going to meet that challenge myself, in a way that you too can benefit from.
First, a bit about NAICOB: a non-profit organization located in Jamaica Plain (essentially, Boston), the North American Indian Center has been located in the same building for over 40 years. They assist Native Americans throughout the greater Boston area, and have - like most of us, and many organizations - suffered during the economic downturn and slow recovery process. Their funding has dwindled; they've lost some of the programs they've traditionally offered, and need to "regenerate" their building before they can obtain additional funding.
Here's the video from their fundraising campaign page:
I've written two previous diaries about their ongoing fundraising effort:
- "We're still here" - for now: NAICOB Fundraiser and
- Foundations cast in stone and spirit: NAICOB
Many of you know me in one form or another - either as a writer of
Woo Tales (
stories about family, caregiving, etc. centered on dogs), or of
causes; some of you have seen me participating in other fundraisers, like
the Okiciyap school supplies drive or
the Daily Kos Okiciyap Quilt Auction. And I sometimes write
meta, in additional to
political diaries. I'm the primary contact for
BosKos, and sometimes write diaries that can be instructional/educational or just plain silly.
My "twofer" challenge to you all is this:
- Rec and share this diary, and
- Encourage two others to do the same.
That's it. You can - if, and
only if, you can definitely afford it - kick in $2 to the
NAICOB Regeneration Fund on IndieGoGo, but that's up to you and your financial situation. I'm primarily hoping that we can get the word out to as many people as possible, far and wide, about the fundraising effort - more eyeballs mean more chances for those who can comfortably donate to do so, and that increases the likelihood of NAICOB hitting their goal. They have 44 days left to do it - it's achievable.
And, for encouragement, I'm writing and posting two mini "Woo Tales" beyond the organic orange curlicue.
As promised above the fold, here are two mini Woo Tales for your enjoyment. The events depicted are real - the author's interpretations are his own, and the two primary characters - Missy and Smoky, both Alaskan Malamutes of exceptional intelligence and personality - have both passed on now, many years later, but are both remembered with fondness by all those who knew them.
Please enjoy them as you share the news of NAICOB's fundraising campaign, and encourage at least two of your friends to do the same.
Namaste.
The Pissing Contest - a mini Woo Tale
Missy and Smoky were best buddies - two Alaskan Malamutes who were of similar age, and both very, very intelligent. Smoky - the male - was pretty easy-going around his people and around Missy. He was fast, nimble and very dexterous. Whenever he "got out" to run around with other neighborhood dogs, he was the Top Dog.
He looked like a good sized wolf.
Missy was brilliant, sociable, and - insofar as she was concerned (and that was all that mattered) - THE Alpha. Not "alpha female." THE alpha. She wasn't much for jumping or climbing. She was quick (in terms of reflexes and coordination), very powerful, and highly opinionated. She wouldn't hesitate to tell you off in terms you could almost understand, with very human-like emphasis and changes in tone as she'd scold you.
They got along great...even when they disagreed. When they did disagree - or whenever Missy thought Smoky had done wrong - she would try to nip him; he'd avoid being disciplined by leaping straight up, or - even more to her frustration - he'd nimbly leap over her, clearing her by at least a foot. During those times, he'd always have an expression that was a mix of "What did I do?" and "Why are you mad that I won't let you bite me?" Missy would give him the look, and he'd give her space to cool off and act contrite before getting close to her again.
They had a good balance to their relationship, and watching them as they'd cycle through these types of interactions was very entertaining - you could easily supply human voice-overs that would be, for all intents and purposes, akin to actual translations.
Smoky was only temporarily staying with us: when the time came for him to move home with Spanky (his tortoise-shell coated kitty-sister), Missy and I missed them both and promised to visit.
It was on one of these visits that they got into a literal pissing contest...
Smoky and Spanky moved back home. I didn't have the chance to go visit them until almost two months had passed - they were living in Texas with their human "mom" BugBear, and Missy and I were living in Oklahoma. When the opportunity arose to go visit, Missy seemed to know exactly what we were doing. She hurried to the car, impatient for me to open the door. She hopped in. Instead of moving to the back, where she could stretch out and relax for the 4-5 hour trip (and where she would normally hang out even for short jaunts across town), she got comfortable in the passenger seat.
And we drove.
She paid rapt attention as we finally got the outskirts of Smoky's home town. We made our way off the expressway to the main roads, and then to the side roads, and finally arrived. Missy was ecstatic, hardly waiting for me to open her door before leaping past me and racing to the front door. When BugBear opened the door, Smoky was already by her side - he reared up on his rear legs and slapped his front paws on the storm door, his expression of delight apparent.
BugBear opened the door; the two furballs met in a flurry of sniffs, then raced off around the garage. They waited - impatiently - for us to open the gate to allow them into the back yard together, then raced around jumping and playing with each other. It was like a ballet of happiness, only on fast-forward. BugBear and I went back around to the front, closing the gate and making our way through the house to unlock the door into the yard, then we stepped through to watch.
By the time we'd done that, they had both settled down. Smoky watched as Missy made her rounds, sniffing here and there until she'd find a spot she felt she should mark. Smoky trotted along behind, performing follow-up snuffles and sometimes re-marking the spot.
There was one spot that held particular meaning for him; Missy found it, and marked it as hers - apparently, not only to announce that she had visited, but to literally claim it.
Smoky cocked his head, looking first to Missy then to the spot. He walked over and marked it again while Missy watched, as if saying "Yeah, but this is my special spot so I have to have the dominant scent."
Missy didn't buy that. In her mind, as The Alpha, what was his was hers, and what was hers was hers. She quickly trotted back to the spot, almost knocking Smoky out of the way, and re-marked it. She then stood there for a few moments, as if challenging Smoky to mark it again. He just looked at her silently, then over to BugBear and I, then back to Missy. He seemed to shrug it off, and trotted off toward a far corner of the yard.
Missy, satisfied, trotted back to where she'd left off on her rounds.
...and when she was almost halfway there, Smoky immediately scooted over, marked the spot, then ran as quickly and quietly as he could back to where he'd been.
Missy stopped, looked up, turned around and looked at him - he looked back. Seeing where he was, then looking at the special spot, and then back to him, she seemed to decide that nothing was amiss and continued around the edge of the yard.
Smoky actually looked relieved, and resumed his snuffling regimen.
Missy's path took her back around to us, which wasn't very far from the special spot - and as she raised her head to look at us, she noticed a scent that seemed unexpected. She immediately turned to look at, and then trotted over to, the disputed markings. She shot Smoky a dirty look and marked the spot again.
He started to trot over then paused; Missy wasn't happy. She tried to charge him a few times, but he bounced out reach each time. She gave up and came over to hang near me while she cooled off. Smoky trotted over to the spot and topped it off, as I told Missy to remember that she was Smoky's guest.
She wasn't buying it.
I don't know who got the final say that weekend - the two of them each seemed to try marking it whenever the other one wasn't paying attention, but the fervor diminished over the first day.
It was, however, amusing to watch an actual pissing contest between the two of them.
~ Fini ~
Why the Chicken Crossed the Road - A Fowl Conspiracy (A mini Woo Tale)
If you've ever tried walking two Alaskan Malamutes at the same time, on standard leashes attached to harnesses optimized for dogs to
pull you, you've learned just how much of a workout it can be when the dogs decide to charge something.
And if you've ever tried to control two stubborn, large, very strong dogs during a walk, each with a powerful prey drive, you know how much of an interesting challenge it can be to retain both the leashes and your footing.
If you don't know, you can try this test: have two friends who are larger than you each pick up a rope. Each rope should have a loop on the end the friend holds; you hold the two ends that are not looped. Put one end in each hand, wrapping the end around the respective hands once or twice for a solid grip. Then have your friends decide on a random count, unknown to you, at the end of which they both run off together while you try to hold them back. To get an even better idea, try this five or six times - different counts each time. And be sure that they also randomly pick an opportunity to suddenly run in separate directions.
That may give you a close approximation of what it can be like. Usually, walking The Woos is a smooth operation: they know their commands, and turn in sync with each other, stopping when told. All like clockwork.
Until something akin to prey dashes in front of them.
...enter, the chicken...at the edge of a road, near a street corner with a partially obstructed view, shortly after dawn.
We had been enjoying a really nice walk, closing in on our street and almost at the corner, where we'd turn to head home. I was looking forward to another cup of coffee...when suddenly a chicken dashed out from the bushes to our left, almost even with the malamutes, and raced past them, crossing in front at an angle and dashing across the road.
In that split second, barely having enough time to brace myself and prepare to hold them back, I heard the faintest echo in my mind of the old riddle: Why the hell did that bloody chicken... - and then the red convertible raced around the corner and into immediate view.
I kept my torso and arms taut, and shifted my hips as I jumped both feet forward to plant them against the sidewalk, then pulled back on the leashes as hard as I could.
The two malamutes were caught in mid-charge, in mid-air, and yanked back to the sidewalk as the vehicle whizzed by.
The driver - was it a person, or a chicken in a human suit? - never slowed down, never hit the brakes...never stopped. It zoomed on, around the next corner, and disappeared.
The chicken paused as it hit the other side of the road - it looked back, then ran off into and behind some bushes.
And then I knew.
Missy scolds me at 5 am...Smoky gives me
the 'Dude, better you than me' look.
The real answer to the riddle of "Why did the chicken cross the road" wasn't a pithy response like "to get to the other side." Oh, no - it was far more sinister than that.
It was part of a fowl conspiracy to murder two malamutes and make it look like an accident.
We made our way home. I thought long and hard about the incident as I had my second cup of coffee. Everything was too perfect - too well-timed. The chicken had to have planned it. But I knew that if I ever tried to report it, I'd never get the responding officer to stop laughing long enough to take my statement.
Missy and Smoky, meanwhile, were already looking forward to tomorrow's morning walk - and another opportunity to foul up the felonious fowl's next attempt to cut their walk terrifyingly short.
~ Fini ~