Huskies and Museums

Recently, I had a strange dream. I was at a friend's house, and I had found a stray dog. It was rather skinny, and I was looking for some dog food. Naturally, this turned out to be a big long search, and I couldn't find much, despite there being multiple dogs in the house.

At one point, I found a small packet of dog food, but since the stray was a large dog, I needed more than that. I continued searching, then looked at what I was holding again and realized it wasn't a packet of dog food after all, but a Ziploc bag of dog treats, most of them dental chews.

I also needed a food bowl, which I wasn't doing much better at. I kept finding bowls for small dogs, or oddly designed ones that were completely impractical. I finally asked someone in the house, who wasn't anyone I knew in real life. They suggested one that was a food/water combo, but commented that one of the neighbor's dogs often tried to take the bowl. They rigged up a way to prevent that from happening, which looked like a paper bag that had been tied down to something. Considering that the paper bag was completely enveloping the dog dish, I wondered how I was going to pour the water in without it becoming a soggy, papery mess.

 

There was also a strange moment when I was stroking the dog, and noticed some sores on his body. Some of them seemed more tender than others, and at one point when I was examining him, he yelled, "Ouch!" Even in the dream, I thought it rather odd. Since when do dogs say 'ouch'? 

At some point, I decided to look for my friend, possibly to ask where on earth the dog food was. As I walked around, the house ceased to look like her old place, and became a larger, weirdly laid-out house. I found what looked like another living room, among many other rooms. I finally came across one that had large, ornate pictures on the wall, which inexplicably became a museum in the dream. I tried to keep the dog away from the paintings, as I had this strange fear that he would lift his leg on them. A museum curator came over and started talking to me, and then one of my other friends randomly appeared, and commented on the CDs that were in the museum.

"This one has really weird lyrics." she told me, pointing out an album by a fictional band called Reverend. "Have you ever noticed the lyrics in the songs?"

She opened up the jewel case and pulled out the lyric booklet to show me. Then she was listening to the album through her earbuds. Whether it was on a CD player, MP3 player, or what, I don't know. She also had the volume up so high that I could easily hear it, and wondered how she could stand it so loud. The song was actually 'When You're Gone' by Matchbox Twenty, and I was happily listening to it until my alarm went off, ending the dream.

The AI Experiment

So, I had a series of silly thoughts. What if scientists devised an experiment where people chat over a computer, and have to guess at whether they're talking to a real person or an AI chatbot? And what if some of the people in that experiment were saying really off-the-wall things, or asking questions like "How many Rs are in 'strawberry'?" in an effort to foul up potential generative-AI?

 

The Sibling/Pet War

My father grew up with a few siblings, which he had varied relationships with. He never really got along with his sister, and they frequently fought. And, as it turned out, some of their pets shared those sentiments.

At one point, he had a pet bird, I think a budgie. He'd occasionally take the bird from its cage and let it fly around the house. Occasionally it would perch on his shoulder and nibble affectionately at him.

His sister also had a pet, a cat who was friendly to her, but disliked my father. The cat would frequently attack him and trying to make his life miserable. Coincidentally, when my father's bird was flying around, it would often poop on his sister, much to her displeasure.

The Fishing Trip

When I was a kid, once Dad took me fishing. He packed up a bunch of fishing stuff, and we set out for the nearby lake. He parked the truck, and then we headed down the hill. The path was steep, so much so that I clung fearfully to Dad as we traversed the near-vertical trail.

 

We're Not Getting More Animals

We have a running joke in this family. It starts with my aunt saying, "After these pets die, we're not getting any more." Which is followed by getting more animals. And the cycle repeats, over and over again. We tease her about it. "Uh huh, sure, you're not getting any more pets. Just like the last twenty times you said it."

For example, my aunt's chihuahua. Originally she was my cousin's dog, but my cousin went out a lot, and the dog didn't much enjoy being out and about all the time. So the young chihuahua wound up bonding to my aunt instead, and remained in her lap until she reached a ripe old age. She finally died, and my aunt said she wasn't going to have another chihuahua. That was the only one.

 

The beginning of a tiny dog dynasty.