The City of Samba

Play it on full screen. This is a wonderful video, and the tilt-shift effect makes the Sambódromo parade scenes just magical.

The City of Samba from Jarbas Agnelli on Vimeo.

H/T: Nag on the Lake.

About Zanesville

Last week both Esquire and GQ published big stories on the Zanesville, Ohio zoo massacre. Read both articles, if you have time, but if you only have time for one [and even if you think you don't], read Esquire's version. Staff writer Chris Jones establishes a sense of unease, of dread and sorrow, and builds on it, and makes everything about that grim event very real and deeply affecting. Jones has said that he hoped to achieve the "spare beauty" of police reports from that night, and he has done that. He also wanted to write "something that would scare the shit out of people," and he's done that, too.

GQ's Chris Heath takes a different approach, and covers more ground. He writes about the police operation, details the life and misadventures of zoo owner Terry Thompson, and interviews others in Ohio who keep exotic animals. Heath's report is as thorough as anyone could wish, and would have been a perfectly tolerable effort, if only Chris Jones hadn't written such a corker of a piece on the same event for Esquire.


The following links have to do with 1) the work of creating a story, and 2) the race between GQ and Esquire to get a long-form Zanesville article in front of the magazine-buying public. Those not interested in the behavior of competing publishers and competitive journalists should probably give these links a miss.

Gawker: Why Did Esquire and GQ Both Publish Huge Zoo Massacre Stories on the Same Day?
Chris Jones of Esquire on His Zanesville Zoo Massacre Story 'Animals,' 'The Most Dramatic Story Of The Year'
Chris Jones on "Animals," his Zanesville Zoo massacre story [forum discussion, joined by the author]

And one more:
Dear Hollywood: Don’t forget Cincinnati Magazine’s Zanesville massacre story

Photo above: Sumatran tiger, ueno zoo tokyo japan, by children of the neon god on Flickr.

Bed and biscuit

Yes, Smoke's coat really is iridescent. And the boys are good buds, but I need to visit Costco for a few more dog beds. Chi-whippie Jasper is now in the neighborhood of 30-35 pounds to Smoky's 55 or so. Must make a vid someday of the little guy catching the biscuit -- he's quite awesome ;~)

O Groomers!

Always the tchotchkes. Poor Grayling. "Get these things off me!" I did, right after I took a few snaps.

I got Jasper's license last week, and the clerk wrote "Whippet x" on the form. I said, "You think so?" and the clerk said, "We put down whatever the vet says on the rabies cert." OK. He does look whippety. The tail, though, is all Chihuahua.

Then this weekend a customer at the groomers looked at Jaspie and said, "Oh, a pit mix!" I was like, "What?!" She misunderstood my surprise. "Oh, they're very nice dogs!" she said. "My sister has one..."

It's fate, people. Lookit the boy ;~)

Roughhouse

Smoky and Jasper make the most of a beautiful morning.

Zoomies, how we love zoomies!

Grayling [whose left front leg is perfectly normal, thanks], Jasper, and an orange. Mmmm, oranges.

As they say, a tired dog is a happy dog. [Jasp'll be neutered as soon as our vet says it wouldn't be detrimental to his health in any way. He was one miserable puppy.]  Can't believe the difference four weeks has made. Has it been a whole month already? Unreal.

Inside, earlier. Rraaarrrrhh!!!

Not the last dog I'd bring home, but close.

You know the old story about the dog stuck between two food dishes? I've been feeling like that for months, immobilized between this blog and my newer birding blog and too busy to do much of anything with either one. Then this dog showed up on Facebook.

She was a little pit bull [rare blue!], she was terribly skinny and suffering from mastitis, she had the sweetest smile, and she needed a foster home. I volunteered.

You know where this is headed, right? Oh, no, you don't.

It turned out that a most excellent rescue group in Utah had decided to take the blue pit bull, so when I arrived at the shelter on the morning of Oct. 22 to pick her up, my buddy C said, "Foster this poor, um, Doberman instead." I'm not even a little bit wild about Dobermans, so I prepared a quick no-can-do speech as we walked down the hall. I needn't have bothered.

A little red pup was standing in the corner, on his last legs. He was in bad shape. C had fixed him a bowl with tempting cheese and other tastiness, but he wouldn't touch it. When I put some canned food on my fingers and offered it to him, he turned his head away. I was enlisted to take him to the vet. Things weren't looking good.

Long story short: I got the green light to take him home a couple hours later. Took "before" photos as per C's instructions.

Aaaand now the very happy "after," wherein we bond, I fail as a foster, and pup gets in touch with his inner zayde. "So then I said to Morrie, I said..." All that's lacking is the upturned paw ;~)

Bark! Bark!

Cute, no? And smart...! You have no idea. Friendly, too. His name is Jasper, for his red color and in honor of a good kid in Five Little Peppers and How They Grew. He met everybody last week. The collies are... tolerant. Smoky is happy. Smoke is showing him the ropes, teaching him about the joy of zoomies, etc.

[It's pouring rain now, and the south forty will soon be muddy green! Yay!]


In case you missed it: this is a Chihuahua mix, people. In my home. A dog that is going to need a sweater. Facepalm. Facepalm. Facepalm.

*************

Note: I have no Dr. Mom skillz to speak of, but man, you should see me set a kitchen timer. Truly impressive. The first day, I fed Jasp a couple teaspoons of food and a dab of Nutri-Cal every hour. Sometimes he'd eat, sometimes not, but the next morning he was eager to chow down, and it was nothing but steady improvement after that. Amazing what a pup can do with food, a little TLC and a warm, quiet place to sleep. As always, thanks to the wonderful folks at our local shelter — you're the best.

I've found my people [Brown Recluse division]

That would be the Brown Recluse spider, ha very ha.

So many years...! So many years I've spent patiently explaining that your aunt in Pacoima or your grandfather in Carmel was actually not, I repeat, not bitten by a Brown Recluse spider, because the Brown Recluse doesn't live in California, and even where it does live, it isn't running around biting people. It's shy and, well, reclusive. And did I mention that most medical doctors are not arthropodologists? May I add that most medical doctors do not spend their days researching bacterial infections, Staph infections in particular? Here's someone who does. Oh, kids, how this makes me smile:

It's not a freaking spider bite

Via this:
MRSA, spider bites and denial

And here's more:
“Spider bite” lesions are usually diagnosed as skin and soft-tissue infections

And more:
Spider!

And more:
Male funnel-web spider [ at somethingscrawlinginmyhair.com — awesome-sauce, I'm telling you]

All with lovely linkage. Like this:

An approach to spider bites: Erroneous attribution of dermonecrotic lesions to brown recluse or hobo spider bites in California Canada [pdf]

California does have a Desert Recluse. [Spider!] It's shy, reclusive [quelle surprise] and reluctant to bite. Just for you, Californians:
Brown Recluse and Other Recluse Spiders

Photo credit: awesome shot of a spider at Kent Ridge Park in Singapore, by Tripod Ape, at Flickr.