So, at the tender young age of 7 1/2, she is finally undergoing crate training:

Okay, that idea didn't work too well, since the crate entrance is blocked and it's too high for her to jump out of. So it's back to the old fashioned way:

Next step is to attach the door, and then to keep it closed briefly. Stay tuned…

Best dog in the world.

(Carnivalized at Modulator's Friday Ark.)

… except for the fireworks:

Don't worry, Diamond — Independence Day is a long way away.

(Carnivalized at Modulator's Friday Ark.)

A small sample:

(Carnivalized at Modulator's Friday Ark.)

(Carnivalized at Modulator's Friday Ark.)

For those who need an alternative, try Dogs Rule Day.

And if you're a heterosexual cat lover — well, too bad.

I know dog runs with only one dog are not all that exciting. Maybe next time.

Carnivalized at Modulator's Friday Ark.

I wound up documenting a less-than-festive scene:

Standing dumbfounded at the splashy pool (a particular favorite of Diamond's), cruelly thrown over an unclimbable fence, my only thought regarding the cretins who did this, surely in a drunken youthful stupor the night before, was: "What did the dogs ever do to you?"

I would think that even among thugs there is a standard of conduct, by which I mean a minimum threshold of thuggery. Stated differently, if one is going to rebel, destructively, against society, then fine — rebel against society (which, you have no doubt concluded, somehow wronged you first). Steal, vandalize, disrupt, whatever. But I repeat: "What did the dogs ever do to you?"

—

Meanwhile, one of the reasons that hoodlums have such a field day along this particular strip of green space — relentlessly marking their territory with graffiti, overturning trash cans, vomiting on the sidewalks and so on, is because I have never, not once, seen even a nominal police presence there — and I have lived here for six years and been walking Diamond along this walk for over five, at all hours of the day and night. Never a police officer walking or on a bike, no auxiliary volunteers, no park staff. No one. Which is precisely why the thugs congregate there — they know they won't get caught.

How sad is that? New York City politicians and bureaucrats, always patting themselves on the back about how liberal, progressive and "enlightened" they are (i.e., never reluctant to spend taxpayer money on any and every warm-fuzzy-feeling social program to make the city "more livable") can't seem to find the time or money to perform the most basic function of government: the night watchman state.

(Finally, and not essential to my core point: This is the Upper East Side, where a disproportionate — perhaps a flat-out majority — of the city's tax revenues are generated. But when it comes to a modest stretch of green space and a dog run, obviously comparative tax burdens mean little or nothing.)

—

One post script on the way home:

Carnivalized at Modulator's Friday Ark.

In this episode: Why Diamond is a libertarian –

• Dogs are property-rights Lockeans.
• My adventures with the dog licensing bureaucracy.
• The divine-right theory of parks commissioners.
• Why breed-specific legislation is unconstitutional.

About the Podcast:

The idea will be to record a quick commentary, no more than weekly (and typically less than weekly) and never longer than 20 minutes, either about something I don't feel like covering in a full-blown blogpost, or something that I have already covered in the blog and don't feel like revisiting. Eventually I might include responses to comments, interviews, roundtable discussions, etc.

Related post chain: Breed-Specific Legislation Blogposting.

It all started when we ran out of her jerky sticks and the online order for more hadn't yet arrived, so I tried giving her some Pup-peroni instead.

Big mistake. They should rename that garbage "Diarrhea Sticks."

So besides me worrying — probably without cause — about her health and whether to fast her or bland-diet her or take her to the vet or all of the above or none of the above, I've also been awakened each night by, well, I'll leave it to your imagination.

Not so fun fact: The worst way to get six hours sleep is to sleep for three hours, be woken by your dog and her "creations" and the need to dispose of them, then sleep for another three hours. It's not much better than pulling an all-nighter. And it's been happening every night since Monday.

How do parents repeat this ritual every night for two years or more? How do single parents do it at all?

And for the past two evenings I've also been spending my evenings laundering linens and towels and spot treating the rugs. (Diamond is usually good and knows to go on her special towel — but not always.) Not to mention extra "just-in-case" walks.

So, bottom line, I'm sorta kinda out of it, and not up to serious blogging. Which sucks, because I have hasty stitches about the New Jersey decision. But, alas, in my grogginess I left my markup of the decision at home.

Stay tuned…

For Discussion: What seemingly innocuous things make your pets sick?