Trendy

Here in Buffalo, there is a coffee place called the 7Brew. It's a drive through coffee place and it's wacky. This place is so trendy and popular that they have a guy who has to direct traffic. He has to make sure all the cars turn in form the same lane... no cheating coming from the other direction. You have to go to the end of the line and take the next spot.

"Start the stopwatch!" Tracey said once we were in line behind about 100 cars waiting to give their order.

This place reminds me of long ago, drive in fast food places, circa 1950. Once you are waiting in line in your car, the waitress comes to your window to take your order. In our case, we had two people, one was in training. The trainer was carrying some suspicious jug full of clear liquid. The label on the bottle said it was mocha flavoring but it was clear! SUS!

I'm not sure why the trainer was carrying the jug around. In my head, he was going to clock the trainee with it, or pour it over her head, or maybe shake it violently at rowdy customers?

Thank God Tracey had enough sense to make everyone pick out what they wanted before we drove there.

With 4 drinks to order, we had a big gap between us and the car ahead of us. 

"Let's move up," the trainer suggested.

"Should we try to drive at your pace?" Tracey asked.

"Yep," he replied. I really wanted Tracey to go fast, then stop, then slow, then fast.. just to see if the waiters would try to stay with us. But she did a nice job of keeping a slow steady pace they could mimic and walk along beside us.

By the time we received our orders and were on the way back to my mom's, the stopwatch said, 25 minutes. The coffee was fine, but not sure it was worth the wait. I never did get any clarification about the jug of mysterious liquid either.

Functional

Before we got Lucy, I was mesmerized by zoo and aquarium trainers using tricks and treats to teach their animals to get used to the way they had to be touched or manipulated to conduct an exam. This seemed genius to me, so while I was teaching Lucy the usual tricks (sit, give a paw, lay down, roll over), I was also trying my hand at "useful" tricks.

For example, Lucy's curly hair soaks up water and gathers snow on her legs like a runaway snowball going downhill, so it usually takes wrestling and "Twister" like antics to get her back paws wiped. One day it finally hit me: I could teach her to give me her back paws just like I taught to give me her front paws! Easier said than done. There was quite a bit of kicking going on during that learning process.

Next, I saw videos of orangutans and chimpanzees showing their teeth so they can get brushed. Of course, I thought, "Lucy should do that! Dogs mouth hygiene is just as important as humans, right?" We must have gone through at least 3 tubes of beef, peanut butter and mint flavored dog toothpaste. Lucy is NOT a fan of the mint flavored; noted by the way she spit it out and slammed her mouth shut whenever the tube came out.

I used to babysit a friends toddler. When she would see me eating something, she would come over to me and say "Ah." and wait with her mouth open. I thought "Eureka!" Lucy takes several pills depending on the season of the year. The best functional trick I ever taught Lucy is to say "AH".  

When Lucy needs to take a pill, we used to have to hold her mouth open and try to shove the pill as far down her throat as possible. Which caused much gagging and puking or simply spitting the pill out. Now I give the command: "Say Ah" and she opens her mouth wide. 

Next up: she has GOT to learn to pick up after herself and I know just what to do!

Yitch and a Ride

"Horses on my side!" Tracey pointed out "Yitch Yitch! 20 points!"

"Yep, you're killin' it," I responded. 

"Oh no! Not another cemetery on your side!" Tracey said with snicker, "You're back to zero."

We were in the car, on a road trip to Buffalo. We had already gone around the dial a few times in Name that tune. Victor unclear (ok - it was Tracey, it's always Tracey - it's the early 70's tunes knowledge).

Yitch Yitch was another game we were playing. I'm not really sure of the rules. It's a game Tracey's father made up for her family when they were on a road trip. The rules seem awfully flexible to me. I mean, what the hell is "Yitch yitch," anyways?

"I think broken out windows should be minus 20 points," Tracey stated, she was practically rubbing her hands together in anticipation of the slaughter coming my way. There were several on both sides of the road. "And, there is a log cabin on my side, too! That's another 20 points!"

"Well I think broken down houses should be minus 50 points!" I exclaimed, pointing at one on her side.

"Ok," Tracey agreed. We drove along, chatting, eating popcorn and talking about my family drama.

"Oof - is that two broken down houses on your side?" Tracey winced. 

"Yep, game over, I admit defeat." I gave her a chocolate covered caramel for her conquest.

Read Aloud

 One of my students is reading The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins for the 8th grade dystopian unit. This is a student who has some significant focus issues, so one strategy we use to address the issue is to read it aloud together. We take turns: I read, he reads. This approach has been working really well until today. Today he decided he wanted to read it with character voices.

His Katniss voice is very "sex kitten": breathy, a little high and when he reads it, she pauses in very disturbing places. Imagine it: ' So...I'll be in a ...coal miners outfit? I ask...hoping it won't be... indecent.' I was waiting for him to wink and leer at me after that reading. But I don't think that's how he meant it; he just doesn't have too many "girl voices" in his head. Which somehow makes it more creepy and unsettling.

"How do you like my Katniss voice?" He asks.

"Umm... It's not really how I hear her voice in my head," I replied carefully.

"What?!? Why? It's a great girl voice!" he insisted, his voice raised indignantly.

"Well, I don't know. She's a strong girl; she feeds her family by hunting food and trading it - she's tough. The voice you use doesn't sound all that tough to me," I tried to explain.

As we continued reading the book, it became apparent that he was so engrossed in his voices that he wasn't actually comprehending what he was reading. When I told him so, he was very perturbed about this observation.

"You are so worked up about the character voices that you aren't paying attention to what you are reading," I informed him. 

"Not true! I AM paying attention!" he exclaimed.

"Really? What did Cinna do to Katniss' costume for the opening ceremony?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Um... I'm not sure." he said sheepishly.

"They LIT her on Fire!" I said, stunned, "How did you miss that?" I shook my head, trying to clear it.

"Look, I know you like using the voices. When we finish the book and finish the assignments, you can reread the book and record yourself. It can be as if you are performing it for an audio book. You can listen to it over and over if you want." I was really trying to sell this idea so we could continue reading the book for class.

"Oooh! That's a great idea! I'll do it!" he said excitedly.

Mission accomplished.

Two Little Kitties

After we got Lucy, our older cat, Penelope died. This left a big cat hole in our family.  It was technically my turn to pick the next cat. At the time, I wasn't sure I wanted any more cats because whenever we traveled, we left them and it made me feel bad. 

In lieu of explaining this to Tracey, I declared, "I only want an orange Maine Coon cat. That's it; no other kind of cat." I gestured with my arms crossed and spread them wide, using the universal "no way" gesture. I was sure an orange Maine Coon was rare and not so easy to find; therefore, I would get some time to figure myself out.

Tracey found one the next day. She showed me the picture when we got home from school. There he was, My sweet Milo, looking straight into the camera. He's a good looking guy. We called the rescue organization and they convinced us that one kitten was a BAD idea. 

"One kitten is a recipe for trouble. Cats are nocturnal - who are they going to play and mess with if there's no other cat around?" the rescue spokeswoman asked me. I fell for it. I did not want to get woken up by sharp kitten claws and teeth.

"Is Milo bonded to any other cat?" Tracey asked. 

"Yes, there is a white Angora kitten here that he is attached to. They spend a lot of time together." she responded. 

That weekend we had a home visit planned for the kittens and the foster mother to check out our house and set up. We had a conversation with Lucy, who was about 6 months at that point. 

"Look - be on your best behavior - no chasing!" I warned. We kept her on a leash.

When the volunteer opened the cat carrier, Milo waited for Tibby to come out first. Tibby is the undisputed leader of the pets in our house. She is vocal; you never have to wonder if Tibby agrees with what you're doing. When we came home from the movies one afternoon, it was Tibby swinging from the curtains. Milo hadn't worked up the courage to climb them yet. It was Tibby who got stuck at the top of the sliding screen door every night over the summer; and it was Tibby who climbed onto the book shelves to try to sleep behind all the breakables. 

Milo often gave away her whereabouts by sitting under where she was, looking at her and meowing. When she sneaks into the bathroom without you noticing and you accidentally close her in - Milo stands outside the door scratching and meowing until we let her out. 

None of my pets are allowed in the kitchen when I am preparing their food. I don't want them under foot. My cats wait in the dining room until I give them the release word to come in. (Lucy won't come near the kitchen; she does NOT want to get in trouble) Milo, mostly, waits on the rug, sitting and watching. Tibby circles like a shark; waiting for me to turn my back or lose focus. Then she tries to dart into the kitchen. I usually growl at her or make the universal "Ah Ah!" noise and she stops and runs. They have both learned the trick "Walk away." which means turn around and literally - walk away.

They can both play the shell game, and are seriously good at it. They can "touch" things on command. Which is a good command for focus. (I'm not allowed to teach them to turn the lights on and off)

One night when I was scrolling on my phone, I came across a video of two cats wearing hats, ringing a bell for a treats. I'm still not sure what the hats had to do with anything, maybe entertainment value?

"My cats can do that!" I exclaimed. "No problem!"

Tibby and Milo ring bells for treats.  I taught them using the clicker. The command is "Ding" and a point. After they ring the bell, I click the clicker, which is the signal that they have done what I wanted and that a treat is coming. They make it very clear that the treats don't come fast enough. They will ring the bell faster and harder and and stare at me. We're working on a jazzy version of "Jingle Bells".

They do not wear hats while they perform. I hate the hats; I think they make the cats look like aliens. 

Who's a Good Girl?

 In 2003, there was a hurricane named Isabel that was supposed to come through Arlington. When it became clear that Isabel was really going to be more of a rainstorm than a hurricane, we decided to travel to Pennsylvania and get a puppy. FINALLY! We knew she was cream colored and on the way to get her we were testing out names. I was sure I wanted her to have the name of a flower. We were almost settled on Daisy, but then we met her and it just didn't fit. It came to us as we were driving away; her name would be Isabel. 

I picked her up and stared into her eyes, "Isabel, a strong puppy named after the hurricane that got us off school so we could travel to get you." I declared; she promptly threw up.

After such a grotesquely endearing beginning, you can imagine; puppy training was not as joyful as I thought it would be. She snatched the socks right off our nephews' feet when they were sitting on the couch. She was atrocious on the leash and really thought all tissue on the sidewalk was a delicacy left for her and her alone. Isabel routinely waited until we got back inside from a potty break to actually go to the bathroom. She would run behind a chair in our living room and squat.

"That's it!" I yelled. "I'm hanging a sign around her neck 'Free puppy to a good home.' I am NOT attached!" I shouted, standing hipshot with my hands on my hips and a mutinous expression.

"Umm... I am." Tracey noted.

Of course, those were just puppy pains. Isabel turned out to be an amazing dog. As my first dog, I couldn't wait to get home form school everyday to teach her tricks. (I was an assistant at this time and could come home right after the bell rang.) She got much better on the leash; she knew all the standards: sit, down, stay, roll over - both ways, give her paw. 

But she also learned to limp when I used my fingers to point a "gun" at her and say, "Bang!" once. When I said "Bang Bang!" she would drop down and crawl toward me. If I said "Bang Bang Bang!" she would roll over and "die". 

We have a two story house. I often forgot things on the bottom floor of the house and would yell down to ask Tracey to throw something up top me. I got the idea that Isabel should be able to carry things up to me when I needed something. That was when I taught her the "Take it to Heidi" trick. As a golden doodle, she has a very soft mouth and could even carry fragile items like my vial of insulin, a baggie of corn chips, or my eye glasses.

My favorite trick that I taught Isabel though was "Oh no!". I would say this and point to whatever I "dropped" on the floor and Isabel would run over and pick it up for me. Then, and this is the kicker, she would wait for me to ask her to "give it to me" before dropping it.

"I'll never have to bend down ever again!" I crowed to Tracey after she got it down pat.

The Class Menagerie

Over the years, I have had quite a few classroom pets. I had a fish tank in a console TV painted like a cow, several lizards, skinks and geckos, two hamsters that one student kept putting together so they would continue to have babies (and eat them). There were also three turtles: one painted turtle (Toulouse), one snapping turtle (Snappy) and one box turtle (ByeBye 'cause he kept trying to escape), and two gerbils named Thelma and Louise. 

All of these classroom pets were "gifts", I didn't procure any of them. Some of them learned tricks and some did not; it depended on when they came to the classroom and if they were sharing "quarters."  

Toulouse was an only turtle for about two years before any other turtles showed up. He had turtle food that he would eat in a pinch, but he truly loved a good cricket- preferably still alive. In the beginning, I would pour the crickets out of the bag and into the tank, usually in the water and they would drown and Toulouse would eat them begrudgingly. He would swim by them multiple times, push them with his claws, and finally touch them with his beak before eating them. 

I taught Toulouse to follow my finger out of the water and get on his sunning perch where I would put some food, at first vegetation, so he understood I wanted him to eat up there and not in the water. Eventually, I could walk up to the tank, wait for Toulouse to look at me, and shake the bag of crickets. He would swim quickly to his perch and rest with his head raised, waiting for me to open the tank and shake some crickets onto the perch. That boy could MOVE when crickets were involved. Snatch and crunch.

A few years later, one of the more senior science teachers had to retire unexpectedly, and all of his classroom pets had to relocate. This is how I acquired ByeBye and Thelma and Louise. I taught ByeBye how to run an obstacle course. He liked it at first but the reward at the end never seemed to make up for the fact that he ended up back in his enclosure.  A student took him home one summer, and not surprisingly, he didn't come back. I'm sure he was happier wherever he finally escaped to.

Thelma and Louise were characters. They had a huge tank, it spanned almost one whole wall. When it was time to clean their tank, I would put them in the gerbil balls and let them run around the classroom. They were able to navigate those balls out of my classroom and down a very long hallway. Sometimes it took me 10 minutes to find them when the tank was clean. Thelma and Louise were not "holding gerbils." They would bite your fingers to the bone if given a chance, and I had to wear fireplace gloves to handle them. I did teach them to hop onto my palm when it was time to get in the balls, though. This trick came in handy later when Thelma and Louise got sick. 

Thelma got sick first; one of her back paws was swollen and red. I was so worried about her that I took her to a vet. Unbeknownst to me, not all vets treat small animals. Small animal vets are not that easy to find, but I found one, about 45 minutes away. She had cancer and he gave me some medicine for her pain.  I decided to turn the vet bill in to the school accountant. Two days later, I got called into the principal's office.

"Ms. Neunder, I understand one of your class pets is sick?" my principal asked me.

"Yes," I answered sadly. "Thelma. She has cancer, and I'm worried she's in pain."

"And she is...?" 

"A gerbil," I told her

She looked at me over the top of her glasses. "Ms. Neunder, I know you take great care of all the animals in your room." 

I nodded.

"And I will pay the vet bill this time. She paused and shook her head. "But the school cannot be responsible for the medical treatment of your classroom pets."

I got it. I did. But that was the end of my animal adoption program.