A + B = C

Syllogism

Logic. an argument the conclusion of which is supported by two premises, of which one (major premise)  contains the term (major term)  that is the predicate of the conclusion, and the other (minor premise)  contains the term (minor term)  that is the subject of the conclusion; common to both premises is a term (middle term)  that is excluded from the conclusion. A typical form is “All A is C; all B is A; therefore all B is C.” 

A:  Dogs don’t know quit.
B:  Yer Big Dog was born the Year of the Dog
C:  Therefore YBD never quits.

——–

I posted a few weeks back about a good friend of mine that gave me a couple of bucks.  Today I took them and the fuzzybutts to Coffee’s Country Market to pay for a stranger’s meal like the employees there did when we walked through Lyme CT.

On the day of Malcolm’s anniversary, it was a great honor to re-connect with Jennifer who subsequently lost her dog, Dooley, to cancer last month.

The stipulation was, if they asked who it was from.  It was from Malcolm

Form Follows Function

Not known to many, that phrase was coined by Louis Sullivan, the father of modern American architecture and the mentor of Frank Lloyd Wright not Wright himself.  

I’ve spent the past few days mapping out, to the best of my present abilities, our path from Canada to Mexico.  

Things tend to change on the road but everything begins with a start and a finish and I have that now.  

The walk will start at the Peace Arch Park that straddles the Washington state border.    

From there it continues through the following cities: Everett, Seattle, Tacoma, Portland, San Francisco, Monterey, LA and down to San Diego.  

And it will end at the Border Field State Park.  Border to border.  Brother to brother. 

Based on Google calculations, the sum total mileage is roughly 1600 miles.  

Sullivan’s full quote was, “It is the pervading law of all things organic and inorganic, of all things physical and metaphysical, of all things human and all things superhuman, of all true manifestations of the head, of the heart, of the soul, that the life is recognizable in its expression, that form ever follows function. This is the law.”  

Leaving Loudoun County

I failed Art History which, if ya know me, it’s kinda ironic.  But I didn’t get an ‘F’ for lack of trying.  Quite the opposite actually.  I loved it but the course design was graded on writing not exams.  And I never turned a paper in.  I couldn’t.  

Caravaggio was one of the topics and I became fascinated with him and I spent weeks researching his life and works.  And a five page essay became ten then twenty and then it was too late. 


Walking on the rails trails from Pittsburgh to DC was one of the most special times during the walk and I spent a few days in the Blue Ridge Mountains and along the Potomac this weekend.  Its beauty indescribable just like that famous painting of Byblis. 


There’s so much I haven’t written about and I have hundreds of drafts on my blog and dozens of notebooks and journals still unpublished because, truthfully, I don’t like most of what I write.  And so I throw things out there in pieces and parts most of which ends of confusing the hell outta people, even the ones that know me. 


But my weekend taught me one thing.  We’re all busy, inundated, I hope, pursuing our passions and dreams and just trying to keep a sense of self throughout it all.  And my blog has sort of been one long continuous thread of stream of consciousness.  

I tried to separate and maintain several blogs but that became untenable and unbearable, especially since the adventure continues, so I’ve pared it down to just two now here and Chef Big Dog.

I have a lot to do and say but I realize now, I only have mere moments of your time to share this story with you and I’ll try my damnest to respect them more. 

This weekend is already a long time ago.  Sail.

The Turn

Tomorrow begins training day.   
The immediate moment that Hudson was diagnosed with a mast cell tumor, I knew my plans for walking cross Japan would be delayed or discontinued indefinitely at best.  The red cranes of Hokkaido have to wait another day.  
Still, it is time for me to return to the road.  
Come this May the fuzzybutts and I will walk from Seattle to San Diego (which, yeah, pains me especially since they sneaked into the playoffs), the California corridor from Canada to Mexico. 
Over the past few days I have chewed this thru with my trusted compadres, that’s Spanish for knuckleheads, and made my decision.  Hudson and Indiana are def on board.  
Most certainly Ginger will say the idea came from her.  Hey, I just go where I’m told to go.  
——–
2 Dogs 2000 Miles 2.0  
Haven’t slept much since the inspiration and there’s a bit of planning and preparation between now and May.  But I have made a few important decisions.  I’ll embark with the same amount of money in my pocket as in 2008 which was $200. 
I have most of the gear and won’t require anymore save a few pairs of socks and liners.  My right strap on my Osprey pack is still bound only by a crimp and a carabiner which tore apart in North Attleboro just weeks before the final mile.  
I might get that fixed but it kinda reminds me of me.  
Osprey declined to sponsor my first walk for which I cannot fault them but they were a big big help when the frame snapped on the Great Allegheny Passage. 
Speaking of sponsorships, I’m not really keen on the idea on seeking very many though the ultimate determination probably won’t be mine.  First I spent a lot of my time chasing pairs of socks and hiking shoes and the lot.  Second, we don’t need much to get from Canada to Mexico.  What we will be looking at are strategic long-term partnerships with companies committed to work together to end cancer in our lifetime.

This is our second last and there will be a third and a fourth, maybe more and I’m a patient man to wait and find those partners.   

Also, (1) There won’t be a follow vehicle like our first walk. (2) We’ll have a vet clear Hudson’s health at every leg of the journey.  (3) We won’t be staying with host families (even though we’ve had the greatest of experiences doing so – this walk is all about time and efficiency).  (4) Nor will we be doing media or press events throughout other than start and finish perhaps.    
While I’m still mapping out the route, it seems 1,500 or so miles from border to border.  East CA is out of the question so I’m trying to determine a coastal route given Google maps.

Day 35: 2nd Path Lab Results

Like I talked about on Day 16, I’ve been awaiting on the results of the additional prognostic and proliferation tests and today I finally got the path report.  
I took a pic of it with the ole trusty I-Phone and if you can’t read the image, basically it’s damn good news 
My decision is no chemo as I feel the potential downside exceeds any preventative or prophylactic benefit.  
Delivered on the eve of my planned departure, I can leave tomorrow to head back up to New England in good conscience and positive spirits.  

Zero At the Bone

A narrow fellow in the grass

Occasionally rides;

You may have met him,–did you not,

His notice sudden is.


The grass divides as with a comb,

A spotted shaft is seen;

And then it closes at your feet

And opens further on.


He likes a boggy acre,

A floor too cool for corn.

Yet when a child, and barefoot,

I more than once, at morn,


Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash

Unbraiding in the sun,–

When, stooping to secure it,

It wrinkled, and was gone.


Several of nature’s people

I know, and they know me;

I feel for them a transport

Of cordiality;


But never met this fellow,

Attended or alone,

Without a tighter breathing,

And zero at the bone.



Truthfully, I’ve never been a fan of Emily Dickinson. 

I came down to Memphis to say goodbye to Murphy something I haven’t been able to do.  But it’s time.  

Murphy was Menschkeit.  Maybe he was the thing that made Malcolm so much of me.  And maybe that’s why I miss him so.  

I’ve been reading Victor Frankl’s ‘Man’s Search for Meaning’ and in it he writes, 

“But there was no need to be ashamed of tears, for tears bore witness that a man had the greatest of courage, the courage to suffer.” 

I wonder if that’s what Emily meant.  There is no more absolute than zero. 


Sniffy and Donut

Back on the Summer of Murphy Tour last year we stayed at the home of Rob and Rhondda, the wonderful folks leading the Puppy Up! charge in Las Vegas and their young son, Owen or Cap’n Jack Sparrow as I knew him at the time, knighted Hudson and Indiana as Sirs ‘Sniffy and Donut’ respectively.  
It wasn’t the same in the tent this week without ‘Itchy Scratchy’ and ’12 short of a baker’s dozen’ (I can only guess that’s what Owen meant), and I missed them during my fast but I’m back and we’re back together and it’s time for us to get back on the road.  
Tuesday we’ll start making our way up to New England with stops in VA, MD, PA, NY for events and meetings. Stay posted…
YBD’s Notes:  Got your card guys and thanks… indeed it is an adventure.  

Puppy Up!


Before I head off for a week for my fast I wanted to share my speech from the Chicago walk with you.  I had intended to post it when we arrived in Memphis but that Monday kinda threw a monkey wrench into my plans with Hudson’s diagnosis.  
But here it is.  
I wrote on Facebook awhile back as response I made to one of our supporters who said, ‘You sure have started a great organization.’  
‘I didn’t found an organization’, I replied. ‘I started a family.’  
And at every Puppy Up! walk we’ve been to these past four years that’s precisely what I’ve felt.  A simple pride not only for all of the people a part of it but how 2 Million Dogs has effected their lives, too, and the pleasure it gives me when a city organizer, or PUPP as Ginger calls them, puts on a successful walk.  
Two years ago back in San Antonio, one of the participants in the walk there said, ‘I’ve been to a lot of these dog events but none of them had an energy like this.’  Well said.  
As we continue to grow this great grass roots movement of ours, my Chicago speech was about the meaning of ‘Puppy Up!’ since I’m the knucklehead who came up with that rally cry prior to my Austin-to-Boston walk back in 2008.  And I still get questions about it.    
I hope the speech finds you well on this special day and forgive the Ray Charles like swaying.  I was freezing my bollocks off.    
Happy Thanksgiving.  Now Puppy Up and Chow Down!

Day 5: The Mighty Mississippi

I forced myself to return here today.  
This blog will break your heart. Not because of Hudson – we didn’t get the lab report in today and although that does cause some consternation, we suspected as much.  
It’ll break your heart because of what the Mississippi River represents to this cause of ours for two reasons.  
1. Back in August 2008, we stopped at the juncture of I-40 and I-55 because, well, there’s nowhere else to go.  Or to get across the river.  There are no pedestrian bridges and since Hudson and Murphy are hydrophobic, no chance of swimming across either.  
About and around this time, we met Ginger who was the Executive Director of the Humane Society and when I shared our plight with her, she suggested we cross via her boyfriend’s boat moored in Harbortown:  pina coladas, pink umbrellas, and perhaps a seersucker suit for myself.  
Problem was, that’s not my style. I didn’t walk 600 miles to Memphis to play fancy.  50% of all watershed in the US flows down the river to the gulf and there was no way I wouldn’t meet her mighty maw.  
I asked Ginger to find another way and she contacted the mayor, police chief, and a congressman and all said ‘No.’  There was no way to cross the river they said. Maybe upstream somewhere.  
Well for those of you who know me, the phrase ‘It can’t be done’ doesn’t really translate or process in my brain.  
Clearly I-40 was impassable unless the whole city, county, and state shut down the bridge and they weren’t doing that for dogs.   But after scouting out I-55 I felt there was something, possibly a utility bridge.  Turns out, my instincts were spot on & against all odds, Hudson, Murphy & me walked across the mighty Mississippi.  
2. The second time I was on the banks of the Mississippi when I was saying goodbye to Murphy in 2011.  He and I were there late at night all alone, listening to the passing barges signalling for safe passage.   
That night, I, too, sought the same.  
But because I couldn’t save him, I wanted to walk him down to the rocky shore to the swift and certain currents that would drown the two of us together and ultimately spit us out in the the Gulf Coast.     
‘Oh No, H2O’ was why I didn’t.  Murphy never liked water and that’s why I couldn’t.  Or at least I told myself that at the time.

I don’t know how to give up.  And the four forces of the universe don’t permit me to either.  Malcolm, Murphy, Hudson, Indiana.

Day 4: What Song Dog?

We hope to get the biopsy report today and while I’ve been gnashing at the bit, I’m wondering what song personifies Hudson.   I’ve bandied a few ideas with a dear friend of mine but I remain uncertain and as my ear buds abound with possibilities, I ask you:

What song is your dog?

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