Copyright Enforcement Gone Wild

Copyright enforcement has been big this week. First, an old case of file sharing had a jury decision this week. The US Appeals court in Minnesota reinstated a jury award of $220,000 against a casual home user of a file-sharing service that no longer exists. She didn't make any money off the service, and it was never proved that she was actually the one who downloaded the songs at her home. She was one of millions of users of the service, and most of us assumed at the time that if it was illegal, we would simply get shut off, not sued. I know a lot more people were guilty, and have not been summoned to court...yet.

http://www.reuters.com/article/2012/09/11/entertainment-us-copyright-thomasrasset-idUSBRE88A1CH20120911

Today we learn that a person who downloaded academic journals from a non-profit organization is guilty of nine felony charges. He used an open wifi connection at a state university to perform the downloads. And yet he is being charged by law enforcement as if he was a malicious, destructive hacker.

http://www.wired.com/threatlevel/2012/09/aaron-swartz-felony/

Tim O'Reilly is a major publisher of technology ebooks who profits from copyrighted content. He came out earlier this year against several bills proposed in congress to take harsher measures against copyright violations, including shutting down entire websites for being suspected of hosting a link to copyright material. In toher words, if you searched Google and found a link to pirated material, the feds could have shut down the entire Google service(s). Or if my blog was suspected of plagiarizing, the entire blogspot community could have been shut down. Scary stuff, especially in the land of the free and the home of the brave. Tim O'reilly is thankful for pirates who share his material with markets who never would have heard of him. Those markets are now purchasing from O'Reilly. He prosecutes pirates when they are found, and O'Reilly's customers are his greatest source for reporting pirated material.

https://plus.google.com/+TimOReilly/posts/LZs8TekXK2T

Are we out of control with copyright enforcement, or is it about time we crack down on these menaces to society? 

I admit it: I am guilty of pirating. When I was a kid, I recorded hours of tv shows and movies on VHS, and was an artist at producing mix tapes of songs recorded off the radio. And yet, a conservative estimate of how much money I have spent on legitimate tapes, CDs, DVDs, and Blue-Rays with the profits going to the rightful owners is about the same as the GDP of a third world country. I would record a song off the radio and like it so much that I wanted a clean copy of it, with liner notes and the rest of the songs on the album. There were movies I wanted, and didn't want to wait to record it or it wasn't playing so I purchased it. Today, I don't have the time to be a pirate so I pay for what I want. However, there are books I never would have read, songs I never would have heard, TV shows I would never have watched, if it wasn't freely available somewhere. 

For example, Hulu is a great sources for movies and TV shows I never would have seen before, but the industry has yet to embrace the model. Moreover, it is a source for commercials I would have skipped if I was watching on TiVo or a cable/satellite DVR. Last night I watched a show called "Honey Boo Boo" that I never would have watched otherwise. I started by watching Saturday Night Live and they did a Honey Boo Boo sketch. I was tired and in the mood for silliness, so I searched for the show. It wasn't on Hulu, so I Googled it but my frame of mind could have been easily distracted, erasing Honey Boo Boo from my consciousness forever. 

A distraction did not present itself, and I located Honey Boo Boo on TLC's website. They require me to download an app to my iPad. Normally I would have moved on to something else instead of hassling with a new app, but last night I decided there was nothing better to do. I downloaded the free app and within minutes I was watching Honey Boo Boo and laughing hysterically. With one caveat: I was required to watch a commercial about every 5 minutes, and it was the same commercial over and over again. Not even an entertaining commercial targeted at my demographic: this was a Dove body wash commercial targeted to soccer moms. But I know the commercial by heart, and it was worth the boredom to view Honey Boo Boo clips. So now I am talking to my sphere of influence about a TV show I would never have seen, and I am aware of Dove body wash. THAT is a market-based solution to the problem.

Let's say I was able to obtain Honey Boo Boo from a pirated source, commercial free. It would have taken a lot longer, and I may have exposed myself to malware or worse in the process. Then when I finally saw the show, I would have talked to my sphere of influence about it, and we all would be watching the next episode live, with commercials. I know I only have an MBA, but that still sounds like a win for Capitalism to me.

A Word and a Quote: Diapason; Anger

Diapason (Dyuh-PAY-zon) - noun
-A full, rich outpouring of sound.

I like this word. It is fun to say, and makes me think of the chills you would get in an old cathedral when the choir and accompaniment bring your favorite song home. There are some potential metaphors there that could transform an entire paragraph.

The original Latin/Greek means "through all the notes". Technically, the original meaning came from Pythagoras' work applied to music, and the "dia" comes from tuning Pythagorean intervals using an interval of 2:1 to get diapason, and then breaking it down from there to fifths, etc. So the diapason would be like hitting every string on a tuned guitar.


______________________________________________________

“Anger is like gasoline. If you spray it around and somebody lights a match, you've got an inferno. [But] if we can put our anger inside an engine, it can drive us forward.”
–Scilla Elworthy

This quote is great for me because I tend to react with anger first, and find myself frustrated more than the people around me (which tends to make me even more frustrated and angry.) My anger isn't very dangerous because I have it under control, but it is my natural state. I keep an eye on it because I know it could easily get out of control and then would be hard to reign in.

However, I also see controlled anger as beneficial. Emotional investment in a problem or idea tends to help us manufacture the energy, creativity, and endurance required to solve a problem or accomplish a great achievement. My frustration in the Marine Corps at obstacles or at periods of high stress could have turned into dejected surrender but instead I used it to push through and conquer the impossible. While working for my undergrad and my MBA, I was often driven by anger at leaders who I felt were ignorant and should be working for me. I knew I could never get to their level without solid credentials that begin with a degree.

My kids make me angry, and that is where the fine tuning is crucial. If I didn't feel the anger, then I may not care enough to keep coaching them on being better people. Of course, with kids almost any amount of anger expressed can be devastating. So I have to keep coaching them and never give up, but I can't relate to them in the same way that my drill instructors related to me. At least not yet... :)

There is a bumper sticker that says "If you aren't angry, you aren't paying attention." It has been applied politically to both the left and right wings, as if their perspective should be obvious to everyone. This quote reminds me that they're both right, but add the caution that could prevent either side from diving off the deep end. Anger can empower us, and sometimes people choose not to be angry out of laziness or fear. Anger can get out of hand, cloud our judgement, and lead good people to make bad decisions.

You can layer your emotions and motivations by focusing more on some and less on others. Emotions like anger are hard to ignore and need to be factored in even if they seem undesirable, but you can limit their affect on your thinking and actions by focusing more on another emotion. For example, when my kids do something that they know is wrong, my immediate reaction is anger. But at all times, I feel love, pride, nostalgia, and other emotions. I let those positive actions be the filter and funnel that my anger has to pass through.

The end result is a spike in blood pressure, a stern look, a mental desire to impart a lesson, and carefully measured words that express disappointment, a clear expectation, and a loving reminder that I know they will one day may better decisions. I have good kids who commit very minor offenses (annoying the sibling, leaving messes, and playing games when they're supposed to be folding laundry) and voluntarily hug me when I least expect it, so it seems to be a system that works.

As we approach November 7th in a election year, I find politics to be on my mind continuously. But this year, I am more concerned with how to bring the two sides closer together rather than the validity of my own convictions. I think that what makes the Tea Party so nutty is the fact that they long ago let anger cloud their judgement, and that makes rational conversations difficult. However, their anger also inspired like-minded individuals and enables them to keep fighting for their convictions with vigor and tenacity. I think the only solution is to tap into the anger of the middle, but we need to find a stronger and more attractive emotion than anger which will sway the less nutty members of the right and will contain an engine within which to contain that anger and turn it into fuel (and keep it away from the steering wheel.) I know there are enough people who love this country and are angry at both the domestic and foreign extremists who threaten this country. If we can find that right mix of emotional appeal, it would allow me to use the diapason metaphor I am searching for in this sentence.

I am a registered Republican, but I can no longer explain why except that I do not have time to change my party affiliation with the county election commissioner. The registration has never been a help or hindrance, and I doubt that it is a blip in the data. But personally, it means something. The is strength and safety in numbers, and I want to support like-minded people to make this nation great.

There was a time just a few years ago when I taught my children that Democrats are bad people, and carried 10 Conservative talking points in my back pocket. Now I find myself on the fence but leaning a little to the left. In 2008, I had to explain that not all Democrats are bad, and that Republicans in 2008 are dishonest. Now, in 2012, I still am shocked at how dishonest my Republicans had become, and how they fight to seize the low ground every time.

During Clinton's administration, I was convinced that Democrats always claimed the low ground and Republicans possessed the intellectually-honest argument. As it turns out, Kenneth Starr's "independent" investigation was a distraction from the fact that Bill Clinton was reducing welfare roles, reducing regulations, reducing government, balancing the budget, and increasing good will among our allies.

I still own numerous well-worn books by Limbaugh, Coulter, and other Conservatives. I held several jobs where I could listen to talk-radio during the peak hours (Limbaugh, Hannity, Beck, etc.) I received A's in history and political science for my Bachelor's and have completed my MBA, which should almost provide Conservative credentials by default.

I elected G.W. Bush because of his "compassionate Conservatism" which I interpreted to mean a balance between self-reliance and the fact that some people cannot sustain themselves no matter what. At the time, I welcomed a war in Iraq (and was still on reserve duty, so I was willing to go myself.) In 2004, I was a rabid Bush supporter and was willing to fist-fight you over my convictions.

By 2007, I had realized that the economy was tanking while Republicans tried to convince us that nothing was wrong. I realized that the national debt was trending ever upwards and that the war was being executed without a solid strategy while my civil rights were being eroded. I suddenly realized that the only thing that could be considered "Conservative" about the Bush administration was the protections of the wealthy, but that was coming at the expense of the middle class, which was very un-Goldwater.

I read both of Obama's books, as well as many other non-Conservative sources and realized I had missed out on a whole spider-web of intelligent discussion that is not as entertaining as Limbaugh and Coulter, but that is only because their aim is intellectual honesty rather than entertainment.

I find I still believe that people should pull themselves up by their bootstraps and be allowed to fail--but that also applies to corporations as well. Republicans under Bush are quick to throw out cash to large businesses that struggle due to their own incompetence (airlines, auto manufacturers, AIG, etc...) but do not see the value in saving small businesses and middle class families from destruction. You don't need an MBA to see that small businesses and middle-class families are what supplies the growth in any bull market. If Republicans are willing to ignore that, and ignore that rising gas prices are going to affect the cost of goods across the economy which will threaten the solvency of families and small businesses, which will mean a lower consumer confidence index and a higher unemployment rate, which will feed a bear market or worse, which will lower big-ticket purchasing, which will lead to layoffs, which lowers consumer spending, which leads to layoffs, ... If you cannot see that, then you should not be in office. If you can see that and try to pretend like everything is okay, then I have to start considering conspiracy theories.

Why is it that McCain was always respected for being a moderate who reaches across the aisle, but as a presidential Candidate he sold himself as a staunch Conservative--but made the Republicans add Global Warming to their platform? I have read several of McCain's books and loved the man who wrote them. I would have voted for that guy, but instead we got this dishonest Manchurian candidate with an even scarier version chosen for VP. All I could do at that point was vote for Obama or move to Russia. The Republican party was unre ognizable to me.

And now in 2012 I continue to question the sanity of the GOP. Mitt Romney is another moderate--he was almost a Liberal Republican as Governor in the tradition of the Rockefellers. But with many viable Conservative candidates available, the Republicans choose Mitt. Actually, I'm okay with that and could probably vote for him if he was honest. But instead he is pandering to the Conservatives, and they are pretending that he is some kind of a second coming of Reagan (who was not very Conservative himself.)

Let's just be honest. If you follow the teachings of Jesus, whether you are a Mormon, a Baptist, a Catholic, or other, you have to admit that the teachings take a harsh stand against seeking wealth and in favor of giving to the poor and unfortunate. I have read the whole bible several times through and spent a lot of free time in the Gospels. I am confident that Jesus, given the choice between a Wall Street tycoon and a bunch of welfare recipients, would head straight to the ghetto to see how he could help them out. Sure, he would find a few who are overly lazy and would admonish them. But he would find the vast majority of them to be unnecessarily repressed do to lack of health insurance, lack of mental capacity, lack of opportunity, etc. He would have his hands full just curing simple ailments and feeding malnourished people. I am willing to bet he would point out that these cases do not require divine intervention but merely the slightest effort by a few tycoons--or the Government.

Let's be a little more honest: the more devoted an American is to their Evangelical/Protestant Christian beliefs, the more likely it is that they are rabidly opposed to Obama and outspoken in their support of Romney. How is this even possible? Romney believes that Jesus has already returned to Earth--right here in America. Romney believes that Mormons are the only ones going to heaven, and that his special Mormon underwear makes him a holier person. He believes in a religion that has been known for mass murder, polygamy, and many other sordid crimes in recent history. You have to go a few hundred years back for similar crimes of the Protestant church. Romney's religious beliefs are so far beyond those of mainstream Christians that they cannot worship together, and Christians label Mormon's as a cult. It is considered annoying if a Baptist leaves and goes to a Methodist church. But if a Baptist or Methodist were to leave for the Mormon church, it would be considered a major tragedy for that person--worthy of an intervention by family and church leaders. I have seen this with my own eyes, and it tore a good family apart. All of that is to say that if our relationship with Jesus as an Evangelical Christian has a strong influence on our political convictions, then why does it drive us to the cult-member rather than the Evangelical Christian.

Which leads me to the funniest/saddest part of the anti-Obama movement. And that's what they are: anti-Obama instead of pro-something better than Obama. They seem to hate Obama without any real reason and without a viable alternative. The funny/sad part is that there are still people who believe that Obama is a Muslim and a closet-terrorist. Even after four years of non-terrorist and non-Muslim activity from him. Even after he gives the order to kill bin Laden. Even after he has been photographed eating pork, and drinking beer with a Medal of Honor Marine-two things a Muslim would never do. We still have people forwarding photoshopped pictures and posting easily debunked lies about Obama being a devoted Muslim, about him holding his left hand over his heart during the pledge of allegiance, about him filling his cabinet with criminals and communists, etc. The lack of critical thinking on the right is pushing me to the left more and more.

So I'm off the fence. Regardless of what my voter card says, I am not a Republican. But I hesitate to call myself a Democrat. I still have an ethical issue with Abortion. I still support the 2nd Amendment. I still think that Unions are not the best answer in a Capitalist society. I still believe that Welfare should be a last resort, and that military strength is good for our nation. But I also believe that a social safety net is good for the economy, and that alternative energy is better for our economy than oil, coal, and gas. I believe individuals should stand on their own whenever possible, and I believe the same is true of corporations.

I can't be the only one who sees the value in Obamacare and insists more people pay their fair share? I can't be the only one who sees that not everybody can start their own business because of their talents, and because the cost of entry is too great in most industries. I can't be the only one who sees that some single mothers could not have prevented their situation and that our society would be better served by subsidizing them rather than expecting them to leave their kids with a stranger and work three jobs just to make ends meet.

Arm Yourself with Cyberweapons

Dan Geer is the Chief Information Security Officer (CISO) for In-Q-Tel, the U.S. Intelligence Community's Venture Capitalist arm. In other words, he is in charge of cybersecurity for a company funded by agencies like the NSA who are tasked with securing the internet. He's also one of the smartest people on the cutting edge of information technology. In a paper for the IEEE, he makes the following statement:

"...—states
of every stripe and virtue are arming themselves
with cyberweaponry, ipso facto, you have
no choice but to do the same." -Dan Geer

What do you think? Should we have something like the Castle Doctrine to protect our online interests? In some states, you can use the Castle Doctrine to kill someone who is on your property threatening you. Of course, in the physical world, we have police working to prevent crime and arrest criminals. Therefore, we should not expect to need to shoot criminals very often. But our police are under-funded and under-trained to protect us in the virtual world. We have Federal military and intelligence agencies to protect us against foreign states, but their scope and power is limited by the Standing Rules of Engagement (SROE) and the Posse Comitatus Act.

The Second Amendment was written so that our citizens could protect themselves against their government and so that we could have a militia defend our nation at a moment's notice. Does the same principle apply in Cyberspace?

There is a popular quote attributed to Japanese Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto during World War II where we reportedly feared invading the U.S. mainland due to the possibility of a weapon behind every blade of grass. Yamamoto probably never said that, but it continues to live on because there is a truth behind it: an army invading the U.S. certainly would face a well-armed insurgency of ethical, patriotic Americans. That is not as true in most nations.

We have convincing evidence that China sponsors hacking against American target--and they have been wildly successful. Syrian dissidents have been target with malware which probably originated from state-sponsored sources. The extent of state-sponsored hacking is hard to determine with today's open-source intelligence, but it undeniably exists and will certainly grow. Hacking groups like Anonymous are a real and persistent threat to our companies as well to individual citizens.

Can we depend on our Government to protect our digital interests, our digital equity, and our identities that span the physical and digital realm? Should we depend on our Government for complete protection? Or should we arm ourselves with cyber-weaponry and attack cyber-targets which threaten us?

Damn Good Joe

The world lost a damn good dog on Monday. I can't cry myself out. I have never lost anything that I loved so dearly. I guess I'm lucky that in almost 40 years, my biggest loss so far was a dog. I guess I should count myself lucky to spend 15 years with such a great animal. But the only things I feel right now are sadness and the temporary numbness that your body grants you right before it sends the pain signals again.

In 1998, I was finally on my own. The Marine Corps had forced me to live in tight quarters, never alone for a minute, for four years. But they didn't pay me enough to build up a savings account, so when I got out I lived with roommates and then with my parents. Finally, after 18 months of civilian life, I had saved up enough for an apartment. Within a month of moving in, I was ready for a dog.

The humane society had setup a puppy adoption on the sidewalk of a shopping plaza. I went down there just to look around, and I wanted to be picky about the dog I adopted. I was thinking of a boxer or a bull dog, and wanted to name it Chesty after a famous Marine General. I know: cheesy.

I can't tell you why I stopped stopped to look at Joey. I don't remember much of that afternoon. All I can say is it felt right. We made a connection, I paid the tab, and took him home.

Joey was enthusiastic and fearless. He sniffed my apartment down and pee'd on every tree in the yard. Twice. I was tired, so I called him into bed and we took an afternoon nap together. Then we went to my parents house to show him off, and he was instant friends with my parents dog (who I eulogized on this blog here.) It was the perfect first day.

A few weeks later I brought a girl home for our second date, and she instantly fell in love with Joey. And of course he fell in love with her. He never had an enemy, and really loved the ladies. I had my doubts, but he insisted I keep her around. Her name was Rachel.

I remember one day that Rachel wanted me to go to her family party where all her cousins and aunts/uncles/grandparents, etc would be gathered. I spent every second I could with Joey, so I took him along. The cousins were playing baseball and wanted me to play. My team was batting first, and soon I was up. I told Joey to sit-stay (he was usually obedient.) I got a hit and ran to first. When I ran, Joey ran. We were both safe at first. Next batter gets a hit, we both run to second. Rachel's family thought it was hilarious. We scored, and eventually played center field together. That was Joey in a nutshell: having fun and making friends.

Nobody could poop like Joe. He was infamous for quantity and quality. We would take him to a dog park or to my parents and bet on if he would poop 3 or 4 times in the space of a few hours. When my parents moved into a new house, he ran around the new huge basement and then laid a massive poop on a carpet scrap. He's lucky it was on the scrap and not on the newly installed carpet--or did he plan it that way?. After I married Rachel (Joey's idea) we bought a house. We brought him over to to check it out. He ran around the backyard for a while peeing on everything. Then he came into the house to sniff around...and to lay a massive poop in the center of the living room. Rachel swears she can still see the dent it left in the hardwood floor.

One day Rachel's sister ended up with an abandoned puppy that she couldn't keep. Rachel took one look at the puppy and insisted we take her in. I was skeptical, and let Joey decide. Joey let the little Cujo jump all over him, bite him, take his bone, and bark in his face. Then he licked her silly and gave me a nod. She stayed. I'm pretty sure Joey regretted that decision, but he would never admit it. Nina turned out to be crazy, selfish, messy, and loud. But she was his sister and he remained loyal to her. I have a picture of him licking and snuggling her moments before I took him to the vet, 14 years after adopting her. In his last few months, she was confined to a cage at night due to some accidents she was having, and I would find him in the morning in front of her cage, keeping her company.

Sometimes I am not as patient as I should be. Joey had his quirks that would really get me upset because no matter what how loud I yelled, he was still quirky. I'd feel guilty later and apologize to him, and he always forgave me. He was quick to forgive, but he didn't let his guard down. When he saw my temper rising, he avoided me. He trained me to use something other than anger when communicating with him. It took years, but I'm finally making progress. Sometimes Nina would cross a line trying to dominate him, or would try to take his food and he would bare teeth and back her off.

He put up with a lot of shit, but he wasn't a pushover. He drew his lines and stood his ground when it mattered to him. Joey was true to himself in a way that I may never emulate. And all the while, he was this humble, patient, generous dog who everybody loved. He always wanted to play, but he didn't push the issue when I was dog tired. He always wanted affection but if you told him to go lay down he would, and wait patiently for your love to come to him. He always wanted what you were eating, but he didn't beg. He would give you the saddest eyes you've ever seen, as if he had never eaten, but he wouldn't make a big thing of it or be disobedient.

Rachel and I had a child. Like the puppy, our first child wanted to climb on him and chew on him. He would just lay there and let her climb and drool. When she got bigger, she wanted to ride him. That wasn't going to happen, but he was gentle about it. He didn't run off or nip or buck. He simply laid down, let her bounce on his back till she got bored, and then gently disappeared. Nina was nowhere to be found during any of this. She learned to hide, slink away, and stay scarce.

Rachel and I had a second kid, and this one was all boy. He had a strong grip from the day he was born, and would pull tails and ears and fur. Still, Joey was a good big brother, always gentle and usually available for the abuse. Eventually, the boy grew up into a kid who understood how to play with a dog properly, and they were soon buddies.

On New Years Eve 2004, Nina got spooked by fireworks. She hopped the fence and ran off. We looked everywhere for her that night and couldn't find her. We kept looking for her day after day, without any sign from her. Joey obviously missed her, despite the fact that she took up space, attention, and food from him, and tormented him daily. We finally found her after two weeks, and when I brought her home there was a lot of excitement and tears. But no one was happier than Joey. He tried to lick all the fur off of her, and they fell asleep that night forehead-to-forehead. He could have been excited while she was gone because he had the house and the food and the attention all to himself, but instead he was happy to have his nasty sister back. That's Joey: All heart.

Joey had some nicknames. "Joe-dog". "Jose" (the Mexican in-laws came up with that.) "Jose-Martin" (I don't know how that came about.) "Butts-and-guts" (Joey filled out a little because he was half chow, and he was always hungry, so Rachel came up with that. There's even a song.) "Senor" (another mexican thing.) "Patches" because when he shed, his Chow undercoat would come out in clumps. Sometimes his sister was "Itchy" and he was "Scratchy", like the Simpsons cartoon. In the last two years of his life, he developed this panting habit that was loud and annoying. The vet said it was normal, but I would often ask him to stop. We joke that it sounded like a train, so when he started up his panting, I'd ask him to pull the train into the station. The panting earned him the name "Huff-and-Puff" (which sometimes turned into "Huffelpuff" after we read Harry Potter.) I think a nickname is evidence that you have personality, and it means people care about you. Obviously, Joey had a lot of personality and a lot to love.

Joey used to run with me. A few years ago, he started falling behind on runs. I was sad to lose a runnning partner, but he obviously had a lot of life left in him so I didn't think much of it. Last year, it got to the point that he couldn't walk for more than a few blocks. That's when I went into denial.

He started to have trouble standing up on the hardwood or tile floors, but that was where he preffered to lay. I bought him a top-of-the-line dog bed that he could easily get into and stand up in, but he preffered the cool, slippery floors. That, and his sister kept stealing his bed instead of using her own.

And then one Saturday morning, he couldn't get up. He kept trying, but his back legs just wouldn't push. So I helped him up and led him to the back door. He seemed okay, but when he had to step down to get outside, he stumbled like a drunk. He took two steps onto the deck and emptied his bladder. It was the most undignified thing I had ever seen, and I immediately snapped out of my denial: Joey was in bad shape. I carried him back into the house and tried to feed him, but he wasn't hungry. Joey not hungry? Oh shit.

I cried like a baby, right then and there. I couldn't hide it, and I couldn't speak clearly to explain to my wife what was wrong. All I could do was cry for Joey. I immediately made an appointment for the vet, but it took a while to compose myself enough to leave the house. My son went with me. The vet looked him over and diagnosed advanced arthritis. He said there wasn't much he could do, but would try an anti-inflammatory and a pain-killer. He also said that even with that, we probably only had a few more months. When he left the room, my son asked me what the vet meant, and I had to explain that Joey would soon be put to sleep, and how, and why. I explained that in the wild, his lack of mobility would have already killed him, but that we are able to prolong his life a little longer. But I also explained that for Joey's sake, we would have to end his suffering when there was nothing more we could do for him. All that time, I was crying.

The medicine helped a little. Joey moved around a little better. I followed up with the vet and asked if more medicine would help, but the vet sadly shook his head. I went online and tried to find anything that would give us some hope, but everything I read said that we were doing all we could do. Even surgery wouldn't help and would only cause more suffering for the animal.

And one of the articles made it clear: it is more for selfish reasons that we would delay euthanasia at this point. Once the animal has lost a significant quality of life, it isn't fair to them to keep them around. I thought I was delaying euthanasia because that was the right thing to do. But I came to realize that the Joey who was once so full of enthusiasm and affection was now a very inactive and sometimes irritable guy. He still ate his share and would let you cuddle him, but his heart wasn't in it. A couple of times recently I laid on the floor to cuddle him and he tolerated it for a while, then got up and went to be alone.

After a month, he went in for a followup and they noticed that the anti-inflammatory was doing damage to his stomach and kidneys. They took that away and left him on just the opiate. He started needing help to stand up several times a day. It was clear what needed to be done. I started researching euthanasia options. The research allowed me to delay the decision.

I finally made the decision, but couldn't make the appointment for several days. In the middle of the work day last week, I went down to my car and called the vet. We made the appointment, I hung up, and then I cried. That sucked. I went home and told the family. We all cried. That sucked. But then we all went to work on making Joey's last days as great as they could be. Everytime I walked past him, I said his name and gave him a pat. I brought home treats and let him eat whatever he wanted, though his appetite wasn't quite there. On Sunday, I threw a party for him. The kids made signs for him, and we had balloons, and he got his own hot dog.

That last night, we all cuddled around him. I was planning on taking him to the vet alone, but the whole family wanted to be there. It was a school day, but this was more important. A great dog was going to leave us. Their brother and best friend. They understood the whole thing and were ready for it, so I said they could be there.


That morning, I had to help him to his feet. I carried him outside to the grass, and let him enjoy his yard one last time. We sat around the living with him and I told the kids stories about a younger, faster Joey. The dog who kissed Rachel for the first time before I had a chance. The dog who tolerated a naughty puppy and two curious toddlers. A dog who plays baseball, and swims like a champ, and poops like no other dog. And then it was time to go.

I called him to the car. He took his time, and I let him. He sniffed, and he stalled because he never liked car rides. But I didn't force him. I let him come to the car on his own, and I lifted him in. In the parking lot at the vet, I set him down and let him take his time walking in. I hoped that it gave him some dignity to be able to walk at his own speed, on his own legs, into the vet.

The staff made sure that we understood everything. Then the vet explained that she would take him in the back, prep his leg and put in a catheter and then bring him back to us. She led him out, and we waited. After a few minutes, we heard huffing and puffing outside the door and knew it was our dog. Rachel joked that the train was pulling in. We chuckled a little, and encouraged him to come on in.

There was a blanket on the ground for him to lay on. The vet went to get the final injection while we spent a last few mintes with him. My son gave him a biscuit. we all pet him and told him the sweet nothings that came to mind. The vet came back in and asked if we were ready. We had been saying goodbye for days, so we couldn't be more ready to see him finally at peace.

It happened way faster than I expected. She slowly pushed the plunger and he suddenly relaxed like he was going to sleep. He let out a final sigh, she listened to his heart, and said, "He is in Heaven now." It looked like he was asleep. It was a dignified end to a life well-lived. We were then left alone with him.

We cried. Holy shit did we cry. My son, in mid cry, remarked that he had never seen me cry so hard. We didn't want to leave, but we new that eventually we had to. I don't know how long we stayed, or how we decided to leave. But eventually we left him there alone on that blanket in the examination room for the vet staff to deal with.

It was hard to drive home without crying, but someone had to be strong enough to get us safely home. Once in the house, I cried some more. And then I cried some more. My daughter was ready for school, but my son sat with me on the back porch and we cried together and talked about life, and death, and dogs, and medicine, and Joey. And I think we cried a little more. Then we cleaned our face, I took him to school, and I went to work.

I kept it together at work, and got through the rest of the day. Then I went home and cried a little. I went numb, watched TV, ate dinner, worked a little, and got into bed. And then I cried again.

That night, I had trouble sleeping because I wondered how they dealt with the body. We left around 10 am. Did they carry the body out while the waiting room was full of people? Did they gently lift him onto a cart? We paid extra to get his ashes back. How did his body get to the crematorium? Was it treated with dignity throughout the process? How would we know we actually got his ashes, and not just some random ashes?

This morning I woke up numb. I thought perhaps I was cried-out. But after everyone had left, as I was preparing to leave, I look at his food dish sitting there and I cried hard. I made gutteral noises I had never made before. Everytime I thought I was done, I started crying harder and couldn't stop. It was 20 minutes before I had enough composure to leave the house.

While driving home tonight, I cried a little. I talked to Joey, and told him how I planned to honor his memory. When I pulled into the driveway, I remembered how he would be at the fence to greet me on most spring days like this, with his curly tail wagging and his multi-colored toungue hanging out and a smile on his face. I cried again.

My son and I ran some errands, and played some tennis. And then I sat down to write this, and I have cried a hundred times while writing. I miss that dog so much. I know that I made the best decision for him, and that ending his pain was the best thing to do. I know we had a fantastic life together, and that he lived longer and with more vigor than most dogs. But I still can't get over the fact that I can never cuddle him. Never see that dog face looking up at me without any judgement or resentment. Never call his name and hear the click-clack of his nails on hardwood. Never hear his huff-and-puff to remind me to let him out or feed him. Never come home to find the one person who was always glad to see me and always had time for me--even if I didn't always make time for him.

Joey, you were the best dog that ever lived, and I didn't deserve you. But I am honored that I got to spend so many years with you. My days were brighter with you in them, and you trained me to be a better man. I will never forget you, and I will always strive to be more like you. Thank you, buddy, for being the best friend I could ever ask for. I love you.