Greg Bales

Dog School 1

Greg Bales / 9.10 pm on Mar 24, 2010

Newton at Hickory Hill Park It seems like it was just yesterday Newton was climbing in the backseat of the car that hot August morning, unaware that it would be months before he would return to Arkansas. He was happy that morning just to ride in the car, but soon his happiness turned to nerves. The first time we took him to Hickory Hill Park, he pulled loose from his collar and ran hard as he could into a native prairie planting. There, he scared up a deer and chased it into the park. We thought he would never come back to us! But soon enough he came back, and soon enough, we learned to trust him more. All the things we’ve done together: Chasing deer! Flopping in the snow! Chasing eagles! Playing with squeaky toys! Developing elaborate plans for world domination! Chasing possums! Sexing up all the neighborhood women! Chasing raccoons! Undermining the international banking system! Chasing geese!

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But Newton is nearly eight years old. All the other dogs are well ahead of him in smarts, if not in looks. But today, all that changed: today was his first day of dog school.

By all reports, he did well, even managing to get one of the teachers to flirt with him. To which I say: That’s my boy!

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In Which the Manner of My Death is Foreseen

Greg Bales / 11.09 pm on Mar 04, 2010

I cannot complain about the fact that today, Iowa City temperatures reached 40ºF for the first time in months, but I can complain about the fact that it still gets cold enough at night for the snowmelt to freeze into thin sheets of banana-peel-slick ice. Twice this week I have fallen. My first fall happened a mile away from the house while I was walking Newton. I was just descending a rather steep hill when I stepped on an ice patch and went flying. Bruised my left arm and hip. Newton kept walking until he found something he could eat; then he waited until I got up and met him. I was actually talking to Jeremy P—— when it happened, and of course my phone hung up on him. When I called him back he said, “Oh, you actually fell?”

The second fall happened tonight, just outside the back door, when I was taking out the recycling. It was a similar slip: one step and down I went. Bruised my hand and cut my finger.

Both falls went unseen, which is kind of a shame. What good is a fall when no one is around to help—or to laugh?

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