Surely one of the better gifts life has to offer is returning home to a dog or two at the end of a hard day. Witness the Manly Fireplug getting kiss-attacked by a Norwich Terrier and a Pit Bull. The camera can’t even capture how quickly Buddy’s tail is wagging.

As hard days go, the last week has thrown a few my way. I can’t write openly about some recent developments, but I can tell you that my wrist hasn’t healed right, so I’m going under the knife tomorrow and will begin the 3-6 month recovery over again.

My return to softball this year is looking pretty doubtful at this point, and I’m typing this with only one hand, but as I look at this photo I’m struck by how my love for its three subjects just keeps getting bigger and bigger, so it’s hard not to count my blessings as no less than three. The Fireplug has been taking good care of me, and will take the day off tomorrow from the barbershop to get me home, woozy-headed and one-handed, to the dogs again.

Having someone, or a few someones, to count on when the crap hits the fan belt is another gift not to be taken lightly. Not sure if the next few days will be quiet, blog-wise, or busy with narcotic-induced observations. But either way I’ll be (ha ha) in good hands.

And now for something completely different…DOGPOET’S FIRST VIDEO! The Finster and I make our weekly pilgrimage to the Manly Fireplug’s barbershop so that I can keep up appearances. And so Finley can play Dog Bowling. If you’d rather not see the man behind this curtain, feel free to skip it. Otherwise enjoy. Music: “Temptation” by New Order.

Still working on that story. In the meantime here’s the Monkey Boy, before and after his grooming today, doing his part to help with the oil spill. It’s more noticeable in real life, as is his little gut. Yes, I’ve been buying his affection with treats. Unconditional love is a fallacy – try not feeding your dog for a couple of weeks and then measure his love.

His Gantsta Pose: 'Sup?

His Over-the-Shoulder High School Yearbook Pose

Another post? How about you do my taxes while I make you a mean bread pudding. Got it from Oprah. Then we can take my dog for a walk – living with a writer is boring him to tears.

My dog likes the morning. I do not, and I count myself lucky that he waits as patiently as he can for Daddy to wake the hell up. He watches me from the bed as I get ready for the day. If he sees me pack just my gym bag, then he knows he’s staying home. If he sees me pack my gym bag AND my laptop case, then his little tail wags and he hops down from the bed as he knows I’m taking him to the office. Even then he sometimes gets confused and starts down the stairs to the back yard. “No, this way,” I tell him, and he freezes in the middle of the staircase, which are not carpeted, looking over his shoulder at me with wide eyes. He doesn’t know how to turn around on non-carpeted stairs, so he runs down to the back door, turns around, then runs back up, past me, towards the front door. My dog makes very funny noises when he sees someone he especially loves, like the Manly Fireplug. The noises make bystanders stare. “Is he choking?” they ask. He likes to compulsively lick the inside of the Fireplug’s mouth. I wonder how long he’d do it if we just let him. My dog thinks he is much bigger than he is. Last week he chased a Saint Bernard around the park. He is afraid on nothing, except for the vacuum cleaner.

Sun on the back deck
Coffee in my Grumpy mug
Puppy vomit on my bedspread
Yawn….wait…wtf?!?

“Sorry that took so long,” the dog groomer said as she snipped a stray hair off Finley’s now-sleek coat. “He was furrier than I thought he was.”

“No prob,” I said. It was hard finding someone who could do a Norwich Terrier coat, and I wasn’t about to risk my standing with her by complaining. Plus I’m from Minnesota. We don’t complain, we just let our resentments simmer for eight or nine years.

“But he looks fabulous now,” she said. “He’s got a nice coat. And he’s got a really nice body.”

“Thank you,” I said, as if I something to do with it. As if I spotted him at the gym a few times a week. It was the kind of compliment every gay man would like to hear about their dog, projecting his own needs upon his companion. My dog has a nice little body. My dog could do porn.

Finley didn’t look like he cared much about compliments at that particular moment. “Get me the fuck out of here,” he implored me with his big brown eyes. “Or tonight while you sleep I will chew out your throat.”

Lots of rollover minutes, too.

So Finley’s been waiting patiently for me to pull my head out of my ass and realize that people come to my blog only to see pictures of him. Especially after his trip to the groomer.

He’s also been questioning the whole protest thing in regards to our civil rights, and that maybe the time for those have passed. After all, going to a protest means leaving him home alone, which he doesn’t think makes a whole lot of sense, for the world can’t admire him if he’s left at home. And the one time I did bring him to a protest, in Sacramento, he got so excited that he nearly stroked out.

In regards to moving forward, I came across an article on SFGate that profiled Dennis Herrera, the city attorney who’s been quietly and tirelessly working on the gay marriage issue, behind the scenes, while Mayor Gavin Newsom took center stage.

“This is why we all go to law school,” Herrera said. “To be involved in weighty issues that really have an impact on justice. These are the cases you live for.”

He’s now considered a strong candidate for mayor. The article mentions the next phase in our fight, as the California Supreme Court once again takes up the issue:

The legal challenge may not win. But Jim Stearns, a political consultant who ran Herrera’s 2005 city attorney race, says the measure’s opponents have finally hit on an argument that will turn around some of the groups that voted in favor of Prop. 8, including African Americans, a majority of whom supported the measure.

For the first time the no on Prop. 8 people are talking about the right message, Stearns said. “Before they were saying, ‘You got your civil rights, now give us ours.’ ” Now they are saying, ‘If they can take away our civil rights, yours may be next.’”

I think there’s some truth to this approach. Instead of asking people to see this issue from our point of view, we ask them to consider what could happen in their own lives, should a simple majority of Californians decide to strip them of something they consider sacred. This approach takes away the the dilemma of whether or not they “approve” of gay marriage, which is the obvious sticking point.

I still think that our best chances lie with the California Supreme Court, as pretty much every civil rights movement won in the courts before winning over a majority of citizens. But since our chances with the judges remain uncertain at best, we need a Plan B as well, which means winning over moderates to our side. In an ideal world we shouldn’t have to resort to such tactics, because in an ideal world we wouldn’t have to fight this battle.

The actual steps of Plan A and Plan B now need to be clarified, so that we can organize ourselves around them. Finley is convinced that photos of him, disseminated as widely as possible, can only help the cause.