Balzac And The Blair Bitch: A Children's Story For Adults

By Rattus Scribus© 10 Sept 2010
Fabulous drawings by Anita Rivera©
Also found on our other blog: Witsend
Preface:
I don't know who came up with the saying, "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me." I'm sure she or he meant well; and it does sound clever, almost poetic. But I don't think it delivers very well on its promise. A broken bone can heal. But cruel, humiliating, dehumanizing words can inflict terrible pain and significantly shape one's self-image negatively. Words do indeed hurt.

Recently I saw a situation in which a child was called something horrible. You could see clearly the internal hurt and damage occurring. That event was the inspiration for the following story.

-----------------------------

Balzac and the Blair Bitch:
a Children's Story for Adults
By Rattus Scribus© 10 Sept 2010
Fabulous drawings by Anita Rivera©

Meet Balzac. He is a wire-haired Fox Terrier that lives next door. Isn't he cute? He is also loyal and brave, I mean really. If you read a book or web page on the Fox Terrier, it will say something like this:

The Fox Terrier may not always be friendly with strangers, but it is very loving and protective of its owners. If the Fox Terrier senses any danger to its human family, it will charge to the rescue with utter contempt for its own safety. When it comes to protecting loved ones, the Fox Terrier knows no fear.

Balzac gives of himself 100 percent all the time, rain or shine. He gives 100 percent when he eats, plays, and sleeps. He gives 100 percent to his friends, to love and happiness. But he also gives 100 percent when he is angry or getting even with his enemies.

When Balzac is a good dog, he's good 100 percent. But when he's a bad dog, he's bad 100 percent. Good dog Balzac will make you laugh. Bad dog Balzac will make you scream.

One day Balzac sees new neighbors moving into the house next door, and he is 100 percent curious to see if they have a dog. They do. Her name is Blair, and by a strange coincidence she is also a Fox Terrier.

Balzac falls in love (100 percent of course). He thinks to himself: "I must win the heart of the fair bitch Blair."

(Now in English, bitch is simply the word for a female dog, like sow is the word for a female bear, drone for a male bee, and jackass for a male donkey. So Balzac wants to win the love of the fair female dog Blair.)

In love 100 percent, Balzac sets out to win Blair, you guessed it, 100 percent.

Every day Balzac dreams of Blair: chasing a ball together, or playing tug-of-war with a toy, or rolling in the grass (all these games done, well, you know).

Whenever Blair is near the fence, Balzac will run and get a dog treat from his bowl and poke it through the fence to give to her.


He even makes up poetry and songs about her.

Oh, fair bitch Blair
of wire hair
and gorgeous button eyes.

I do declare
a love most fair.
Be mine or else I dies.

As you can see, Balzac is not much of a poet. But what he lacks in words (which of course to humans sound like barks, woofs, growls, yelps and howls), he more than makes up for in complete sincerity.

There is only one problem. Blair seems to have no interest in Balzac whatsoever. None. Nada. Nul. Zip. Zilch. Zero. 0 percent is not something that Balzac's brain can even compute.

It isn't that Blair does not like Balzac. It's just that she is different from him. He's an all or nothing dog. She's more give and take. He likes loud activity. She likes quiet. He is very forward. She is more reserved. He wants a girlfriend. She just wants to be a girl.

But Balzac does not understand their differences and he gets completely discouraged. He becomes irritable and takes out his frustration on everybody, especially strangers.

The poor mail carrier becomes Balzac's mortal enemy. Everyday when she delivers the mail, Balzac growls and barks at her and makes threatening gestures. One time Balzac even tries to bite her. Luckily for the mail carrier, he just rips her pants.

"You need to discipline Balzac," says the mail carrier to the owner, "or I'm not going to deliver your mail anymore. He has to learn to treat others with respect."

The one who gets the worst of it is Blair. Balzac begins growling and rushing at her like he is going to bite her. Because of the fence he can't touch her. But she is still frightened.

Since Balzac can't bite Blair, he begins calling her names. Sometimes people will take a name and twist it in order to make cruel fun and hurt you. That's what Balzac does to Blair.

"Bark Woof, Bark Woof, Bark Woof," which in human means: "Blair Bitch, Blair Bitch, Blair Bitch." When he was totally in love, Balzac called her "fair bitch Blair." Now that he is all mad, he calls her "Blair Bitch," and there is a big difference.


Blair is deeply hurt. She doesn't know what she did to be called such a terrible name.

"Bark Woof, Bark Woof, Bark Woof," Balzac keeps shouting relentlessly from his side of the fence. "Bark Woof, Bark Woof, Bark Woof."

"STOP IT! ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!" It is Balzac's master speaking. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but you will stop it this instant. Leave Blair alone or be nice to her. Be friendly and then you will both be happy."

The kind human disciplines Balzac and makes him stop being mean and calling Blair that awful version of her name.

In time Balzac learns that being respectful is not something you do when you feel right, but because it is right; and if you work at being nice, you might actually become nice. Who knows, maybe one day he will be 100 percent respectful and nice.

And everything ends happily ever after.


And everything ends happily ever after.

Tolkein Friendship

By Rattus Scribus©

I've been thinking about friendship lately. Especially since the possibility of friendships has both expanded exponentially as well as changed dramatically as a result of instantaneous communication via the worldwide web.

Facebook, MySpace, YouTube, blogging, email and other forms of social networking have created the largest pool of personal contacts from which friends can be made in all of human history. I have heard or read people say, "I have 600 friends on Facebook," like they were collecting merit badges to put on display.


Some people claim to have thousands of "friends." THOUSANDS OF FRIENDS! I get exhausted just thinking about it. I wonder if that is even possible, and then I realize: "Duh! We obviously have different conceptions of friends and friendship."


I read somewhere once something J. R. R. Tolkien said about friendship and I have a close affinity with his view. Friendship is not a term fitting for someone you recently met. That is a "recent acquaintance," though of course friendship can develop, perhaps quickly, from that initial meeting. Nor is friendship automatically applicable to someone you have "known" for a long time. That is simply a long time acquaintance. I have had dozens of colleagues over the years that I have been teaching, and some of them are wonderful human beings. But the people I count as friends are far fewer in number.

Tolkein said something like this (and I am paraphrasing): a friend is someone who SEES YOU. Or to put it another way, a friend is someone who SEES WHAT YOU SEE. They may not agree with every thing you see. But they see it; they see you; they "get" you. And of course -- and this is critical -- a friend is someone who will "stand with you" come what may.

Hobbits Hiding from Ringwraith, by Gary Cook, 1998.
Based on scene from LOTR animated film,
Ralph Bakshi, Dir. 1978.

This SEEING and STANDING aspect is what I call "Tolkein Friendship," and it is clearly depicted in the myth-master's magnum opus, The Lord of the Rings.

Merry: "You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin–to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours–closer than you yourself keep it. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo. Anyway: there it is. We know most of what Gandalf has told you. We know a good deal about the ring. We are horribly afraid–but we are coming with you; or following you like hounds." (LOTR: Fellowship of the Ring)

Scene: Fellowship of the Ring,
Peter Jackson Dir. 2001

This statement by Frodo's friend Merry Brandybuck (speaking also for the other friends Sam Gamgee and Pippin Took) reveals that friends are people that have loyalty to each other, but (and this is important) "without subservience," as one author put it.
(Have you ever known a person who calls you their "friend," but only on their terms, only based on your subservience to them in some way? Friends they most decidedly are not!)

Friends are, without equivocation, equals and responsible to each other.

So the person who says that he/she has thousands of friends on the web cannot possibly mean it in the same way that these four hobbits meant it. For a friend is someone who becomes nothing less than family, indeed, sometimes closer than individual blood relatives. Sometimes disagreeing with them. Sometimes frustrated, even mad at them. Sometimes separated by time and great distance. But ever attached by the bonds of affection, regard, respect, concern and good will.


It is this Tolkein Friendship that is a major theme running throughout the LOTR trilogy, and The Hobbit before that. It is Tolkein Friendship that helps to supply the bearer of the One Ring what he needs, what he does not have by himself, for his epic journey.

"[Frodo] saw his friends' faces more clearly again, and a measure of new strength and hope returned." (LOTR: Fellowship of the Ring)

Sam carries Frodo. Scene: Return of the King, Peter Jackson, Dir. 2003

I have read some writers who think that the development of internet social networks has created a culture in which millions of people are constantly in contact with everybody and know nobody.

While I think this is certainly true for some. It is definitely not true for everyone. Anita and I have made what we feel are nascent and nurturing friendships in bloglandia. Some of you are "blood" family who are also dearest friends.


Others are people we have come to know through many blog correspondences, comments, team story telling and a general sharing of silliness. A few of you we have actually had visits with face to face. Others of you we dream of meeting some day, even if we have to fly half way around the world to do it.


And so, to all of you whom we have enjoyed so much in our journey through bloglandia:

Blessings to you, our Tolkien Friends.

The Golden Girls, NBC sitcom, 1985-1992

In prosperity, our friends know us; in adversity, we know our friends.

— John Churton Collins

No one ever won an argument that lost a friend.
— Unknown

No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are throughout persuaded of each other's worth.
— Robert Southey

No miles of any measurement can separate your soul from mine.
— John Muir

My P-r-r-re-cious!: A Lesson from The Lord of the Rings

Scene: LOTR: Return of the King, Peter Jackson, Dir.

By Rattus Scribus©

My wife and I just finished watching, again, Peter Jackson's film adaptation of J. R. R. Tolkien's trilogy masterpiece, The Lord of the Rings, one of my favorite reads since childhood. There are many lessons I have gleaned from this series over the years. But for this post I will focus on one, "the precious."

Many people of course know that I am referring to Sauron's master ring, with which the Dark Lord of Mordor sought to enslave all Middle Earth under his evil rule. In a previous bid for total domination, Sauron failed. The ring was lost and eventually ended up in the hands of a "river-folk" hobbit named Sméagol, who killed another hobbit to get it.

Corrupted by the power of the ring, Sméagol became Gollum, a frightful and pathetic creature of unnaturally great age with a mind as demented and disfigured as his physical appearance.

Gollum, by Greg & Tim Hildrebrandt

In time, the one ring was lost to Gollum and was found (stolen as Gollum saw it) by the hobbit Bilbo Baggins of The Shire.

In the LOTR trilogy, it is the great burden of Bilbo's young relative Frodo, to take the dangerous journey to Mordor, there to cast the ring into the volcano Mt. Doom where it was forged and thus the only place it can be destroyed.

Throughout the epic journey Gollum pursues the bearer of the ring, and even becomes Frodo's guide into the "valley of shadow." But Gollum does all with one relentless goal, one purpose to the exclusion of all safety and reason: he must get back the ring: "We wants it. We needs it. Must have the pr-r-re-cious!"

-----
I have often thought how people, myself included, have our own versions of "the precious." It can be a fault in our personality or habit that is simply not up for discussion.

"I'm not listening. I'm not listening."
Scene: LOTR: The Two Towers, Peter Jackson, Dir.

I've known some people whose "precious" is to make others feel bad, because they feel bad. "I get to treat you like dirt because life has treated me like dirt. It's my right, mine, my own, my pr-r-re-cious!"

Most of us at one time have our own unassailable precious like money and possessions, careers, even religious beliefs.

What makes these like Gollum's precious is not that we should never pursue or have things like possessions or careers or beliefs. It is that they can become unhealthy distortions. At such times, even a good can become monstrous.

When profit, possessions and influence are pursued at the expense of people -- sometimes at the sacrifice of millions of people, their livelihoods and lives -- those things become our horrible "precious."
When one is married or devoted to career far more than spouse and family for which the career is supposed to exist in the first place, that career becomes our "precious."

And, dare I say it, when belief trumps common sense goodness, then even faith becomes a corrupting "precious." While he was being tortured for holding certain religious beliefs contrary to "established church doctrine," the 16th century Anabaptist, Balthasar Hubmaier asked his tormentors this tragic question: "You burn a man to uphold a doctrine?" (On Heretics and Those Who Burn Them, 1524). The church said in heavenly fashion: "But this is my belief, my own, my pr-r-re-cious!" Then in hellish fashion proceeded to burn him alive. But they were wrong. Hubmaier was right. I am a definite subscriber to the dictum that one cannot claim to love a God they've never seen, and not love people one can see every day. (Matthew 22:37-39; 1 John 4:20)

Mt. Doom, by Tim Kirk

As I begin a new academic year of teaching college students, I will meditate on those things in my life that have become my versions of "the precious." So if you think of me, pray that I will have the wisdom and strength to cast them all into the mountain of fire.

Humbly yours,
Rattus Scribus

Look Out, Here Comes the Birthday Girl

We composed this birthday song in honor of our dear friend The Dutchess. (You can find her wonderful website here.) Sing along to the tune of "Spiderman" -- the 1960s TV cartoon. You can listen to the tune now playing, them shut off the sound and sing the words below.
-----

Birthday girl, Birthday girl

Not a Duke, not an Earl.

Dutchess this is your day

Beat the drum, hip hooray.

Look out, here comes the Birthday girl.

-----

Happy Birthday Dutchess.
From your devoted friends,

Rattus & Tea Rat

The Light Shines in the Darkness

By Rattus Scribus©

My wife Anita from Castles Crowns and Cottages just posted an inspirational topic very relevant to me. For I am the type of personality that needs to be reminded often about the beauty and goodness in the world.

Ever since I was a child the harsh things of our world have tended to accost my attention and cost me no small amount of emotional labor.

The first time I saw Woody Allen's Annie Hall, I had to laugh at the young neurotic Alvy Singer (Allen), so distraught over everything, even the universe coming to an end billions of years in future.

(Pause the song on the playlist, see the 46 sec video clip here then return to reading)1

In a way, I actually envied Alvy. For I was a child who was forced to live inside his head, because unlike Alvy whose family took him to counseling, I had no such outlet. And so the darkness at times seemed to overwhelm.

Street violence that's senseless as usual, industrial violence on the earth that's business as usual, profit at the expense of people, tragic -isms, hell unleashed in the name of heaven, cruel words and acts that injure the innocent, graves filled with the wrongfully dead, oceans of tears, woes seemingly without limit.

But over the years I have seen the light in the darkness too, and in the words of the apostle: "the darkness has not overcome it."

I remember when Anita and I were first dating. One day we took a trip to a beach in Southern California. The sun was beginning to set over the water, and we walked hand in hand with the water dancing about our bare feet.

Then, dunderhead that I was, I looked out over the sea and told my soon-to-be wife this: "Can you believe all the pollution we've created? Isn't it sad?" We talked about this episode later: how while she was lost in the love the moment and was therefore more able to see the beauty in our surroundings, I threw a wet blanket on the whole thing with my, "sad state of the world" spiel.

Anita tells me often that I have inspired her in so many ways. Well, she has been my strongest reminder to see the sun through every gloomy cloud.

The magic in the deep forest.

The rainbow after the rain.

The arts that inspire us in ways we never previously imagined and show us what is possible that is good and kind and beautiful, full of hope and love unconquerable.

Yes, I do believe it.

"The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it." John 1:5

-----------------
1. Picture still from "Annie Hall," 1977, Dir. Woody Allen.
2. All other pictures found via "public domain" search strings.

In the Glow of Cottage Lights

By ©Rattus Scribus, 30 July 2010.

Many of you know that Anita and I love the cottage. The cottage and its surroundings conjures in our spirits a peaceful existence in a pristine, undamaged nature and a magical community with all that is lovely in flora and fauna. In this world of the cottage there are tree lined paths that beckon adventure, the aromas of wild herbs waft through the air, fruits and vegetables have a flavor to be found in no modern food store chain, and fairies dance in moonlit gardens.

Inside the cottage, walls of books inhabit cozy rooms, animal friends visit frequently for food and fellowship, and love always outshines any evil in the wood.

Thus, in our many venturings, we are always on the lookout for anything that enhances the magic of the cottage. This summer we found lighting that had to be inspired by fairies, if not made by fairies themselves.

The first was a vintage bronze tree candelabra that was on a table of "discontinued" sale items. We both gasped simultaneously. "That's it!" Which to us meant, this is something we've dreamed about but never saw anywhere. We bought it immediately and took it to the cottage.


The second we found in an antique shop in Stillwater, Minnesota, one of our favorite local places to visit. It is a fairy lamp par excellence.



We fitted the candelabra with battery LED candles that light up automatically at dusk and shut off after six hours. We love the added sense of fairy magic when the candles light up on their own one by one. We wait for it each night.


I had to replace the electrical guts of the fairy lamp and fit it with a flame flicker bulb. When we turned it on, we went "Oooh!"


I know, I know. Maybe we are far too easily amused. Maybe we're still just too childlike. All I know is that everyone should be so fortunate. Anyone who can find magic and joy in so little a thing may have found one secret to a happy life.

In the glow of cottage lights, love always outshines any evil in the wood.

Reunions

It happens to nations once torn apart by civil war. It happens to rock n' roll bands, high school friends, and to lovers. Reunions.

Emma Thompson and Hugh Grant as Elinor and Edward in the 1995 movie adaptation of Austen's classic.

The final coming together of Edward Ferrars and Elinor Dashwood in Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility (1811), is to me one of the great reunions in literature.

Reunions happen in many places around the world and sometimes they are glorious. It happened to Anita and me during our recent visit to California.

I see my family about every two years and it is always wonderful. But Anita and her family had not seen each other in fourteen years, so that meeting was like something approaching epic.

The visit was more amazing still because we were also reunited, as it were, with some people who have become dear to us, but until then we had only known them via web blogging and email correspondence. Below are some pictures with captions: a sort of travelogue of these most memorable reunions.
----------
First, we flew to one part of California and had an indescribably happy reunion with my sister Nancy and her precious family. The up-till-all-hours fellowship and the fairy-like magic and hospitality of their home alone would have made the trip worthwhile (she is a home decorator par excellence; see her blog Fete et Fleur). My sister is very discreet concerning the information available on the internet about her family, so all I can say is that you brought a new level of joy to my heart. I love you ALL deeply. (And no, Anita and I are not standing in front of my sister's house. If only.)

A view from the Korbel Winery. Beautiful garden and history tour, followed by Champagne tasting.

Dinner at "The Claim Jumper" restaurant. Anita and I had never been to a place where the food was great and the portions were maniacal. That thing to the left of my brother's plate that looks like a small Bolivian village is actually a hamburger.

Southern California has some beautiful flora which never ceases to amaze me, like this Moreton Fig Tree that was planted in the city of old Orange in 1875. I had to walk across the street to capture something of its great size. It was so big that I did not notice the guy standing in the tree until he let out this blood curdling scream that made me literally jump in the air. The base lout was in the tree long before I got there and long after I left (I saw him there on the return trip), which reminds me of another thing about California that never ceases to amaze me: weirdness.

Anita and Penny, one our dearest blogger friends from Angelsdoor and a partner on the fun blog Nowhere. Our friendship moved from web to face-to-face. It was a marvelous reunion with a marvelous human being.

With Anita's very dear childhood friend, Edie.

Me on one of our regular morning walks in beautiful uptown Whittier.

The reunion with Anita's relatives and our mutual blogger friends. The party began at 10:00AM and everyone was having so much fun that it didn't break up until about 10:00PM, and it was supposed to be a "breakfast" event. This was an absolutely beautiful experience. I don't know how else to put.

Reunion of the Bloggers (sounds like a movie thriller). From left to right: the non-stop hilarious Debbie from From Venting to Viggo, Anita's dear cousin Marie from Dancing in Tattered Shoes, my Anita from Castles Crowns and Cottages, Bunny from I'm Just Sayin', and Yours truly. If you got a barrel full of monkeys, hit them with a massive dose of laughing gas and put them in the middle of a last comedian standing competition, they would not have had as much fun and laughter as we did that day.

Reunions happen in many places around the world and sometimes they are glorious.