ohmidog!

Ace has a new top obsession — a neighbor named Tom, who has taken over the first place spot previously held by a neighbor named Al.

Ace hit it off immediately with Al, an older man who lives about five doors down. When Al started giving Ace treats, his apartment became the first place Ace looked when he went outside. When Al bought a jumbo bag of chicken jerky treats to hand out when Ace went by, the relationship grew even stronger. He loves Al, but he loved those jerky treats the way an addict loves crack.

Since Christmas, though, Ace’s priorities have changed. My next door neighbor got a kitten.

He is a very cute kitten, and very tiny. Ace — and we should point out here that cats are the only species Ace seems more taken with than humans — has met Tom once, sniffing him while his owner held him.

Ever since then, the first thing Ace does when he goes outside — even before peeing — is to run over to the neighbor’s front window to see if the cat is there. He stares up at the window, then he jumps up, putting his paws on the sill. The first time he did that, the cat jumped down and disappeared.

The next time, the cat wasn’t bothered in the least. And now the cat seems to be waiting for him. He’ll gaze at Ace, paw at the window and press his face against it. After a couple of weeks, they both seem to view the visits as a regular part of the day’s schedule, and Ace seems to think checking on the cat is his new job.

If the cat is not in the window, Ace will jump up, peer in, crane his neck, look side to side and get upset. Eventually, the cat will appear, and then they will stare at each other as long as I allow it.

It takes a lot of urging to pull Ace away.

I am 99.999 percent sure Ace does not want to eat the kitten. He has shacked up with cats before, and been enamored with them, though only one we visited seemed to tolerate his interest.

But because the kitten is so young he would only be one swallow, and because the kitten has had some health issues, they’ve yet to hang out together unrestrained and in person.

As for Al, Ace still bolts off when sees him, even though we’ve dropped the chicken jerky treats. They were made in China, and — though I doubt they were responsible for Ace’s recent health issues — both Al and I had read some warnings about them.

I’m 99.99999 percent positive that Ace isn’t looking at Tom as a treat — even if he does sometimes drool a little while staring in his window.

But Ace’s Tom-excitement and his jerky-excitement appear to be two different things. With the jerky, he gets all drooly and subservient. With Tom, his tail and ears perk up. He seems more intent, more studious, less zombie-like, as if it’s more an intellectual hunger than a physical one.

One of these days, they’ll get to spend some time together. Maybe, with all the anticipation behind him, that will make him less obsessed, or then again it could make him more that way. Until then, they’ll continue to relate, three or four times a day, through glass and screen.

Note to neighbor: You might detect some small holes in your screen; I fully (or at least 99.999999 percent) intend to buy you a new one.

It’s “National Dress Up Your Pet Day.”

And — with apologies to any advertisers or potential advertisers we might offend, to the founder of the day, and to dog dresser-uppers everywhere — we hate it.

We abide it, when it’s just done once in a while; when it’s done for purposes of warmth with dogs of the tiny, short coated, shivering variety; and, to some extent, on Halloween.

But overall, we’re every bit as tired of it as most of the dogs who get dressed up probably are.

For all those who will respond saying how much their dogs love being dressed up, I’d submit that it’s the attention, not the attire, that they are appreciating. (Though I will admit Ace does seem to love it when I change his bandana — generally when it gets crusty and/or stinky, or about every three months.)

While we’re at it, we’re tired, too, of all these “national days” being proclaimed — at least those that aren’t for a good cause, but are instead marketing gimmicks.

It’s got to stop somewhere. What’s next? National Clone Your Dog Day?

And one more note of concern: If we keep humanizing dogs, through dressing them up and such, might the day come that they get so like us that they start proclaiming “national days?”

National Rawhide Chew Day, National Pet Your Dog All Day Long Day, National Don’t Forget the Belly Day, National Double Up The Dinner Serving Day, National Dig A Hole Day, National Fetch And Then Fetch Some More And Perhaps A Little More Fetch Day.

It could get totally out of control.

I’m pretty sure President Obama didn’t declare Jan. 14 “National Dress Up Your Pet Day,” I’m pretty sure it wasn’t an act of Congress. Instead, it seems National Dress Up Your Pet Day was founded in 2009 by Colleen Paige, a “celebrity pet lifestyle expert and animal behaviorist,” who has proclaimed several dog-related national days (though I don’t begin to understand what gives her the authority to proclaim days).

It is sponsored by the Animal Miracle Network “as a fun way to celebrate our beloved pets and to support the pet fashion community.”

“It’s important to remember though,” notes Paige, “that it’s not … a day to disrespect our pets with uncomfortable, vulgar and/or seasonally inappropriate costumes for the sake of a laugh or photo shoot.”

“Have fun with your pets by dressing them in cute outfits and safe costumes – but keep your pet’s comfort level in mind when involving him/her in this fun novelty day. Make sure that your pet can see and hear properly and that they aren’t wearing something that might overheat them or incorporate any parts that they may chew off and swallow.”

Dogs are too smart to fall for “National Dress Up Your Pet Day,” but at least some of us humans seem to buy into it.

Here’s a snippet from a recent article that appeared on Petstyle.com:

“With the big day just around the corner, now is the time to coordinate some fabulous outfits so your pet can celebrate in style! This is your chance to make Fido fit for the runway. But remember, there is more involved than just pulling your pet’s favorite frock out of her wardrobe. As a pet owner, there are a few things to consider as you prepare for the main event …

“Think about your pet’s personality. Your regal Doberman will not appreciate being dressed in a pink sweater with maribou trim. He is more likely to appreciate a fashionable camo fleece or a suitable biker hat … Then again, your Bichon Frise might love the pink sweater. Or put some prep in your pet with this yuppie puppy attire …

“If rain is expected in your location, opt for a totally ‘in’ rain coat and possibly even a matching set of boots. After all, being hip doesn’t mean being impractical. And you don’t want your pet to catch a cold as he shows off his fabulous fashion sense.”

Geesh. We’ve made this point before, unpopular as it may be with a large segment of dog people. If a dog requires protection from the elements, fine. If once a year, on Halloween, you want to decorate your dog, safely and comfortably, fine.

But if dressing your dog, merely for decoration’s sake, is a daily, or even weekly diversion, if you’re constantly putting him or her in outfits, if you have more than, say, two dozen of them, perhaps you might want to consider a doll instead.

Even on National Dress Up Your Dog Day, which, come to think of it, might be a good time to change Ace’s bandana.

Meet Ace’s uncloned clone.

Last week, while I was bouncing around doing interviews on my book about dog cloning, a friend of mine at Best Friends in Utah sent along a photo of a dog she’d come across on the Internet.

That’s Ace on the right, and the lookalike on the left. She was found wandering in Michigan and — as as my friend noted — seems the spitting image of the dog I like to think of as one of a kind.

(And still do, no matter how many thousands of doppelgangers are out there.)

I’ve seen and met a few dogs that somewhat resemble Ace, but never one who does so as closely as this girl, especially when you compare her to the young Ace.

So with dog cloning back in the news, I’ll remake a point I made in the book, “DOG, INC.: How a Collection of Visionaries, Rebels, Eccentrics and Their Pets Launched the Commercial Dog Cloning Industry.”

If you’re looking for another dog just like your current or past dog, you can find it at a shelter – if not in your hometown, somewhere in America.

And while that dog will only resemble your dog in physical appearance, that’s all the cloners really guarantee, anyway.

In all the media coverage of the most recent canine clone to come to U.S. shores, no one has explained — or even pointed out — that Double Trouble, featured on last night’s TLC special, looks little like Trouble, to the left.

The original Trouble’s face, in most pictures, was mostly white, with some dark and greyish highlights.

Double Trouble’s face (left) is amost entirely dark, with far more brown fur and just a few little patches of white around his nose. Much, if not all, of the difference could fade away as Double Trouble grows up and his coat changes color. Photos of the original Trouble show him with darker coloring around his face, too.

Still, though, the truth of the matter is that genetic copies, in addition to not always acting alike (I’m sure you can think of some twins that exemplify this), don’t always look alike, either — as was evidenced, memorably, by the first cloned cat. It was two-colored; it’s donor was tri-colored.

For those South Korean laboratories producing clones, there’s an easy way around the physical discrepancies — produce enough clones to ensure not just that there will be live births, but that at least one of them will be identical.

That means making repeated efforts, using multiple dogs as egg donors and more yet to serve as surrogate dogs. It means more dogs rented from dog farms, only to be returned after laboratory use and sold as meat, as was the case during my visit there. It also means surplus clones.

None of cloning’s many downsides received much mention in last night’s TLC special, “I Cloned My Pet,” which followed three customers seeking laboratory made replicas of their deceased dogs.

While it did show the death of one clone shortly after birth, it glossed over cloning’s cons, and, worse yet, seemed to accept the bogus idea that clones are reincarnated versions of the original.

“Cloning offered the tempting chance to bring Trouble back to life,” the narrator said at one point. “The new old dog is reborn,” he said at another.

That, while not the reality, is the sincere hope of most customers. All three made comments about whether the clones of their dogs would “remember them.”

In addition to Danielle Tarantola, who recently received one clone of Trouble and is expecting another, the show featured Peter Austin Onruang, a California man who has spent years and hired two different labs to clone his dog, Wolfie. Two Wolfie clones have been born and survived. None of the others most recently implanted in five surrogate mothers did.

A third customer was a New Mexico woman who had made arrangements to clone her mastiff mix, Blue Frankenstein, even as she faced a prison sentence.

Identified only as Sheryl, she was allowed to meet the clone after it was delivered to the U.S. With cameras rolling, she fawned over the clone in a jailhouse visit. But, as the show pointed out, she isn’t likely to see him again given her conviction and 10-year sentence for transporting firearms.

In the most ludicrous scene in the special, Blue is taken to a “dog whisperer,” who interviews the pup. The dog, we’re told, tells the animal communicator about one memory he has from his previous life — how his owner saved one of his toenails and turned it into jewelry.

All of the owners claimed to see their old dogs in their new dogs — in terms of looks, behavior and personality.

Tarantola points out that Double Trouble lays down the same way the original did, with his rear legs splayed out behind him. “… He was bouncing around like Trouble used to do … He lays on pillows like Trouble used to do. He really, really has the same personality.”

Without going all adversarial, I’d point out this — based on what she says and my conversations with other cloning customers: When it comes to love — and that, at the root of it, is what pet cloning is all about — we sometimes see what we want to see, and don’t always see what we don’t want to see.

But that, like the ethics and morality of dog cloning, got little scrutiny in the TLC documentary.

What it did make clear — though I don’t think it did so on purpose — is that there is a degree of selfishness involved in getting one’s dog cloned. The customers all feel as if, nature be damned, they deserve their dog “back.”  While it would be equally as misguided, none seem to be doing it for the sake of their dog.

And that’s another question seldom asked. As humans get their dogs cloned — to recapture a bond, erase their loneliness, or to relive, if not their own youth, at least their dog’s – how fair is it to the animals?

What does it say of the original dog  if recreating him or her is a simple matter of sending a pea-sized chunk of flesh to a laboratory in South Korea?

And how fair is it to the newborn clone? On top of all the high and possibly unmeetable expectations he or she will have to live up to, will that dog ever be viewed as the unique creature it is, or only as a repeat?

We start the New Year by looking back at one of last year’s most downer dog stories (and there were many) — that of a stray pit bull who wandered into a hardware store and ended up getting euthanized, despite the efforts of rescue groups and a community to save him.

And we start – Happy New Year! — with what is both its latest twist and its silver lining:

A Detroit rescue group’s efforts to save that pit bull — named Ace – has moved an anonymous California woman to donate $1.5 million to build a no-kill shelter in a city that sorely needs one

Detroit Dog Rescue says the donation — in the form of stock options — came from a woman they described as “a fellow dog rescuer who is battling a life-threatening illness.”

“She just kind of nonchalanty, very humbly, just rambled off very quickly, ‘I just want you to know that we’re going to do this very fast and it’s just going to be a quick transfer of stocks to you guys. You should have the million dollars overnight,’”  co-founder Daniel “Hush” Carlisle told Channel 4 News. “And I was like, ‘Excuse me? Did you just say a million dollars?’”

But the story starts with Ace.

On November 4, the rescue learned through emails and Facebook posts that a dog had wandered into an Ace Hardware store on E. McNichols. He was emaciated, and there were wounds on his neck. DDR staff rushed to the store — knowing all stray pit bulls seized in Detroit are euthanized — but animal control had arrived there first.

“Due to Detroit Animal Control’s egregious policy of euthanizing 100 percent of dogs that they deem to be pit bulls or pit mixes, we knew that Ace would almost certainly be put down,” DDR’s account of the story on its website explains.

“Luckily, the media had gotten a hold of the story as thousands rallied together. A group of people started a “Save Ace” Facebook page, and a licensed rescue (Stray K-9 Rescue) confirmed that they would take Ace if Detroit Animal Control would release him.”

Ace’s supporters attended a city council meeting to urge the dog be released.

Despite that, city health department officials said Ace wouldn’t be released, and that if no owner came forward, he would be killed after the mandatory four-day holding period.

An owner did come forward, after seeing Ace on the news, stating the dog had been stolen from her home. But when she arrived at animal control to claim her dog, the dog she was shown wasn’t her’s. Nor was it Ace, DDR says.

The rescue group suspected animal control might have euthanized Ace the day he arrived, and that it was attempting to cover it up.

Hiring lawyers, the rescue group and the owner went to court and were granted an injunction that barred animal control from killing any dogs resembling Ace until a hearing could be held.

On Nov. 10, though, animal control reported it had euthanized Ace.

“We at Detroit Dog Rescue believe that Detroit Animal Control put the dog they tried to pass off as Ace down early rather than have to prove whether he was or was not Ace … Their preferred method is one of eradication and they believe themselves to be above the law. They bumbled, lied, tried to backtrack, and then disregarded a direct order from the judge,” the DDR website says.

While unsuccessful in saving the dog, DDR’s efforts impressed the mystery donor.

DDR spokesman David Rudolph said the donor tracked the organization’s work after seeing it on TV in May, and decided to make the donation after learning about the group’s attempt to save Ace.

Carlisle said the donation brought him to tears. “To have a donation of this size given to us in the amount of time that we’ve been up, 10 months, it’s going to be a really exciting time,” he said.

On top of that donation, DDR — whose budget had reportedly shrunk to $43 at one point — saw an influx of donations, more than $200,000, after it was featured on an NBC Nightly News segment called “Making a Difference.”

“This donation is just the beginning,” said Monica Martino, who co-founded the organization after city officials denied a Discovery Channel request to film her series “A Dog’s Life.”

“While Hush and I were working on the streets of Detroit, we saw firsthand the true scope and scale of the stray dog situation. This problem in Detroit is an epidemic and the system that is in place to control it is broken. The first step is to build a no-kill shelter.”

President Obama sure doesn’t know much about Christmas shopping for the dog.

His first mistake? He brings Bo with him to buy Bo’s gifts, thus spoiling any surprise that might have come Christmas morning.

His second one: letting the news media tag along, thereby assuring, in addition to chaos, that — even if Bo somehow didn’t already see the gifts –  he could read about them in the news, or on his favorite blog.

The only saving grace is that the news media hasn’t seemed to have gotten the doggie gifts straight. Some say Obama bought his Portuguese water dog a rubber chew toy and treats, some say a bone and some treats, some say a toy and “another item.”

The only thing they agree on is that Obama purchased two items from a PetSmart in Alexandria yesterday, and that he paid $41 for them.

Which brings us to his third mistake — overpaying. Forty-one dollars, for  what appeared in one photograph to be a rawhide chew and a bag of treats?

As the president made his purchase, Bo played with a  puppy named Cinnamon, according to the Associated Press, and Obama interrupted Bo’s persistent sniffing of the female poodle, saying, “OK, Bo, don’t get too personal.” (Though I think with a name like Cinnamon, you’re asking for it.)

But back to Christmas. Ace and I had decided not to exchange gifts this year. We’d opted to tighten our belts/collars and refrain from the joyous tradition in light of the fact that WE HAVE NO DAMN MONEY.

Instead, as we did while on the road last year, when we gave everyone already broken in gifts, we will celebrate frugally and quietly. It was my mother who suggested the family hold on to their dough and not exchange gifts this season, but she didn’t mean it, and nobody listened to her anyway.

She sent my brother $100 for Christmas. Meanwhile, my brother, unable to find the perfect gift, sent her money for Christmas — also $100 dollars.

It makes one wonder why bother, when the only one making a profit is the post office. Then again, it’s good to help out the needy around Christmas time.

All my immediate relatives will be getting from me this year is the Travels with Ace calendar, which benefits — in addition to the post office, Paypal, and the online printing company that made it — Rolling Dog Farm in New Hampshire.

So far, we’ve sent along $400 to the sanctuary for blind, deaf and disabled animals.

So that fills us with Christmas cheer. As does a handsome check my mother gave me last night as my Christmas present, even though we’re not exchanging them this year.

I am to go out and buy myself something. If I play my cards right (read: Walmart), it should be enough to cover a small gift for her, a pair of “dress pants” for me (just to make her happy), perhaps a winter jacket and the vet bill for Ace’s recent urine test.

(Those tests, like the previous ones on his blood, were all negative, which leads me to suggest that — like those lawyers who promise not to charge you unless they win your case – veterinarians and human doctors should swallow the cost of any tests they order that don’t turn up something. Don’t get bent out of shape, veterinarians, I’m mostly joking. Ace, by the way, continues to be fine.)

With the check from my mother, I think there may even be enough to get Ace a little something — certainly not $41 worth – for Christmas … even though we agreed not to exchange gifts this year.

(Top photo: By Carolyn Kaster / Associated Press)

In Ace’s younger days, before DNA breed identification tests were invented, it was always fun to guess what he might have in him.

Was he part German shepherd, as most people guessed? Maybe some mastiff, or Great Dane, to account for his size?  Some thought they detected retriever, or ridgeback, Catahoula or coonhound. It was a true whodunit – who exactly got together to produce such a beast? What made him so big? Where’d that curly tail come from?

It was an enjoyable mystery, unlike the kind of guessing game that becomes more common as a dog ages.

Then it becomes not what he’s got in him, but what he’s got. (I know that’s bad grammar, but I like it better, and I’m in control, at least of the words on this page.)

It’s amazing, and depressing, all the things that can go wrong with dogs, not to mention us. And the path to figuring out which one has – even when you do have medical insurance — can be torturous.

Breed determination tests require just a simple swabbing of the inside of the cheek (or a blood test), but determining what’s wrong with your dog will likely take numerous even more expensive ones that may or may not yield an answer, or even a general category into which his ailment falls.

Is it orthopedic, neurologic, digestive, cognitive? Or could it be, instead of a purebred disease or disorder, some sort of mix?

But first things first, or at least now. Ace seems back to normal. Unlike the previous two days, when he was a mix of clingy and anxious and, while he would sit, refused to lay down – an American Clinganxious Setter, maybe? – he’s himself again, and seems to have no complaints.

He’s back on the futon as I write this — one of the areas he has avoided for the past two days – back in the role of muse, as opposed to object of my fretting. He’s laying — or is it lying — down at will. He’s eating, drinking, pooping, peeing, playing and breathing normally.

A visit to the vet — and yes, I still want to marry a veterinarian — brought no definite answers. A battery of blood tests showed that liver, kidneys and pancreas were all clear, and that he had an only slightly elevated white blood cell count.

He was dispensed some anti-inflammatory pills, which may or may not account for his improvement. Still, upon the vet’s recommendation, I will engage in the also-not-fun, though highly challenging, game of catching one’s dog’s pee in a cup, and will tote a urine sample to their office this week.

Then, depending on what the pee reveals, and depending on whether he  shows any more symptoms or strangeness, more tests are a  possibility — X-rays of his stomach to ensure no parasites or other foreign objects are lurking there, neurological tests because of his earlier problems, and a day-long test for Cushing’s Disease, which the vet mentioned was also a possibility.

Or, given what appears at least today as an apparent recovery, was it nothing at all? For all I know it could have been the full moon, a ghost, a sound he was hearing that I wasn’t, or an extended blonde moment, even though he’s more auburn.

Adding to the uncertainty, when your dog appears to be ailing, there’s always the question you ask of yourself, or at least I ask of myself: Am I under-reacting, or over-reacting? The answer of course is that, in circumstances like these, over-reacting is preferable, if not good for the bank account.

For you newcomers who haven’t memorized Ace’s breeds, I won’t repeat them here. You’ll have to look it up, just in case I ever move to one of those backward towns that enforces or is instituting breed bans — though I probably wouldn’t — but in the event of which Ace is a collie.

Let’s just say, of those breeds that showed up in the three DNA tests he has had in the past two years, one is Japanese, one is Chinese, one is German (but not a shepherd) and one is an overused and misunderstood catch-all that’s not really a breed at all.

As for all those friends and readers who have offered their opinions, I do appreciate the input, the sharing of your own experiences, and the support.

As for Ace, once he wakes up, I think he’s due for a not-too-strenuous hike.

It’s always good to work a little sunshine into the mix.

SWM  ISO  SFDVM … for LTR.

Better yet, I’ll spell it out: Single White Male in search of Single Female Doctor of Veterinary Medicine, and by LTR I mean not just long term relationship, but marriage.

I might be willing to give the institution another try, but only with a veterinarian.

This decision is based not only on certain financial realities with which I am confronted, not solely on being a journalist without a real job, but on my belief that anyone who has devoted her life to dogs — as long as they are not all self-righteous about it, or hoarding them — is going to be a good person.

So, yes, I plan to marry, and live happily ever after with, a yet-to-be-chosen veterinarian.

(The unidentified one in the photo above, which I found by Googling, would be fine, but I’m not sure if she’s a veterinarian or a model, or, since her left hand is hidden behind the dog’s ear, whether she’s spoken for.)

In the interest of being totally frank, even though my name is John — nice to meet you, do you come here often? – I will reiterate that at least part of this life choice is based on practical, in addition to any romantic, interests.

Ace is nearly 7, beginning to get up there for a big dog. I am 58 (though, by making it a point to take poor care of myself, I can manage to still pass for 60). I’m feeling quite fine today, but Ace is showing signs of another ailment.

He has taken to acting like a cow, but only at night.

While seeming otherwise fine, he has been exhibiting two unusual behaviors. The first is standing like a cow, declining both offers and orders to lay down. When he does finally consent to joining me on the couch, or bed, he insists on putting the front third of his body on top of me.

None of his appendages seem to be bothering him, and I’ve manipulated them all to no end. No other spot I press on seems to cause him any pain. His symptoms are not like those back-related ones he was experiencing a few months ago. He acts mostly normal during the day, but once night falls, he becomes a cow.

He’s eating regularly, his bowel movements are on schedule and his stool seems fine. (Mine, too, in case any potential suitors are wondering.)

I have Googled myself silly trying to figure it out. At one point, I was convinced it was carbon monoxide poisoning, because he was standing by the door a lot, as if to say we must leave the premises at once. When he went out, though, he did nothing, except stand like a cow some more. I went out and bought a carbon monoxide detector. It hasn’t gone off.

Last night, I began suspecting bloat, even though what’s going in, food-wise, seems to be coming out, and he doesn’t seem inflated.

I’ve even asked myself if his ailment might be something other than physical — a cognitive disorder, though it seems to early, stemming from his advancing years. But then I forget that I’ve asked myself that.

Each day he seems fine, recovered, running, playing and happy, and I cancel my plan to take him to the veterinarian. Then at night he becomes an unmoving cow again, but, unlike a cow, seems anxious about something.

So he’s going back to his vet, who’s not an option when it comes to my plan to return to wedlock with a DVM, as he is a he and he is married.

But how wonderful would it be, now and moreso in the future,  to have someone right in the same house who could observe Ace’s behavior and — contrary to my uneducated guesswork — come up with an immediate diagnosis and treatment plan?

To spare me from the anguish — and, despite any jest herein, it is anguish — that comes with knowing something is bothering your dog and not being able to figure it out?

And perhaps, even though her background is in dog health, to detect any excessive panting, or drooling, or other warning signs, that I might be exhibiting myself?

Til death do us part.

What I haven’t mentioned yet — because it’s a small thing, which has only a slight bearing on my love for veterinarians — is neither Ace nor I have health insurance, and we’re both getting to an age where that might be handy.

If I married a kindly, female, financially secure, unattached veterinarian, I can only assume Ace would get free medical care — given that Ace would become her dog, unless we parted ways, in which case, as spelled out in a pre-nuptial agreement, full custody of Ace would revert to me.

And if, in addition to making a good living from being a veterinarian, one of those rare careers that actually has a future, she had her own human medical insurance — the kind that covered spouses — that would be some highly appreciated icing on the cake. That would just make our bond even stronger.

I think we would be very happy together.

Yes, I kind of like time and space to myself. Yes, I probably work too much, definitely too much for a person who’s unemployed. True, I can’t shower you with luxurious or expensive things, but I do occasionally shower. I’m probably not “a catch.” As I’ve already stated, I will be 60 in a couple of years.

Nevertheless – and I”m going down on one knee now — I ask you, female veterinarian, will you marry me?

And, whatever your answer, can you help me back up?

(Photo: From Topcollegesonline)

If you think animal welfare can get vicious — what with all the desperate-for-funds parties involved, all the politics, all the backstabbing — consider, if you will, the calendar industry.

Having recently stepped into the field myself — you may call me either an entrepreneur or impresario; I think I prefer the latter – I’m amazed at all the calendars vying for the public’s attention, and that’s just counting the ones for good animal causes.

Of course, it would be foolish of me to mention any of them by name, as that might cut into sales of my “Travels with Ace: One Dog’s Year on the Road” calendar, 50 percent of the profits from which go to Rolling Dog Farm, a sanctuary for blind, deaf and disabled animals in New Hampshire.

The  ”Travels with Ace” calendar — and here is a page where you may learn more about it (and buy it repeatedly) — documents the year Ace and I spent traveling across America, emulating John Steinbeck and his poodle Charley.

As Steinbeck did in his classic work “Travels with Charley” I hope to turn my travels with Ace into a book — though one far different from his, one more whimsical, one that takes itself far less seriously, one that’s more like the dog, which is really what my trip, unlike his, was about. It’s different, too, in this way: While Steinbeck was attempting to take the pulse of mainstream Americans, I, by nature, gravitate to offbeat types.

Ace, too; maybe that’s why we’re a team. It’s also why you’ll find us, as you flip through the months, hanging with hobos in Tucson, climbing brightly painted Salvation Mountain in California, and rubbing elbows (and nothing more) with the staff at a strip club in Dallas.

But that was the fun part, and a diversion from what we’re here to talk about today — the business of wall calendars.

The business world can get pretty cut-throat, which is why I’ve always detoured around it whenever possible. It’s also why we won’t be mentioning any competitors, like BARCS Orioles calendar, and why we will snub as well the Maryland SPCA calendar, not to mention the ASPCA calendar.

We realize you have many calender buying options. We realize, too, that you can usually get them for free, if you’re willing to look at advertisements for insurance companies, funeral homes, hardware stores, banks or real estate agents.

But we have the one thing (in addition to being good for 18, count ‘em, 18 months; in addition to featuring our old dog friends back in Baltimore; in addition to showing you the dogs and people we met in our travels) that no other calendar has:

Ace.

He, despite his starring role in the calendar, has been of absolutely no help when it comes to the handling, the packing, the shipping, the signing (yes I sign each one) and the never-ending trips and long waits in line at the post office.

I am doing all the heavy lifting, all the monotonous work, and more of it than I expected — and I’m loving it.

Why? I think it has something to do with Christmas, and with the giving (though I am far from giving them away), and, maybe most of all, with keeping me occupied over the holidays.

Living alone, not counting Ace, and having gotten away in recent years from any sort of decorating, baking, caroling, playing Santa in dog photo with Santa fundraisers, or other festive acts, I tend to get a little Scroogy around the holidays.

With the demands of the calendar, though, my apartment — though it is elf-free — is feeling a little like Santa’s workshop.

I bustle about with scissors and markers and tape and lists, attempting to make sure, with all due precision, that orders get filled and delivered — unscathed, we hope — to all those who ordered them. (I think, at one point, I was even humming a happy tune.)

While nobody’s getting rich, except maybe for the company that printed them, the calendar is doing well. Our first printing sold out, and they’re all in the hands of the post office now. Our second shipment should arrive here this week.

The bulk of our orders are coming through PayPal, but if you want to order by mail, send a check for $28 and your address to ohmidog!, 804-D Avalon Road, Winston-Salem, NC, 27104.

If you live in Canada, or Europe, or someplace like that, precisely throw in a little more for shipping.

And to all those who ordered one, to all those who didn’t, and even to all those other dog calendar-selling organizatons, Happy Holidays!

Somehow, Cyber Monday has snuck up on me.

Which is surprising, considering how loud, garish, and exclamation point-filled it is.

Likely, there are two reasons I’ve been taken by surprise: First, I don’t have a proper wall calendar, on which I can write down important dates. Second,  up until the last couple of days — even though it has been around since at least 2005 — I’d never heard of it.

In case you’re as uninformed as I was, Cyber Monday is basically Black Friday online, with Internet retailers offering alleged discounts on purchases made through their websites.

After three days of shopping ’til you drop (apparently Black Friday also includes Saturday and Sunday), yet another day is set aside for you to spend some more in the comfort of your home.

Normally, I couldn’t care less about Cyber Monday. But with the announcement of our new 2012 (and half of 2013) “Travels with Ace” calendar — now available at a website near you — I would like to hop aboard the bandwagon and take advantage of any spending frenzy that’s out there.

So, for one day only — what the heck, let’s make it a week; no, let’s go crazy and say a full month (while supplies last) — our sister website (TravelswithAce.com) will be taking orders for the calendar at full price. That’s right, full price, allowing you to spend the money that you, thanks to Black Friday and Cyber Monday, have saved elsewhere.

What, you were expecting a bargain? Alas, we shant be slashing prices — for several reasons.

First off, the calendar is raising money for Rolling Dog Farm, with 50 percent of all profits going to the non-profit organization that cares for blind, deaf and disabled animals in New Hampshire.

Second, I put it together through a website that will remain nameless –  unless you order a calendar, in which case it will have their name plastered on it somewere — and as I was doing so, the price kept going up. When I called to see if I could get an additional discount given my volume purchase, and given it was a partly philanthropic effort, I was told no — that the current “sale” price was the best they could offer. Because the website pointed out the sale price was expiring that day, I placed my order. Guess what happened the next day? The price went down, a little. In other words, I paid too much for them.

Third, it’s an 18-month calendar. That’s six, SIX! extra bonus months. It’s also a limited edition, and each copy will be hand signed. My first real foray into Internet marketing ( if you haven’t already figured that out), the ”Travels with Ace” Calendar features some of the more memorable moments from the year Ace and I spent traveling the U.S. It also features 30 or so of our old dog friends back in Baltimore.

But wait.

There’s more.

For every purchase of a “Travels with Ace” calendar, customers can buy as many additional copies as they want at FULL price.

(Normally, this is where the small print would go, but I don’t know how to make small print. Besides, it hurts my eyes.)

If in your house you have a wall
In a kitchen, bedroom or a hall
And if sometimes you can’t recall
What day it is — no, not at all
Here’s a gift that will enthrall
Almost each and every one of y’all
It’s about a dog quite tall
Who crossed a country far from small
But here’s the best part of it all
You can skip the shopping mall

Happy Black Friday. I — in exchange for forcing you to ready my hasty poetry — am about to make your life easier. No need to thank me.

Announcing: The limited edition, visually breathtaking, hand-signed, not overly large 2012 (and half of 2013) “Travels with Ace” calendar.

The calendar recaptures some of the more memorable moments from our one year and 27,000 miles of travels across the country, about half of that spent retracing the route John Steinbeck, 50 years ago, took with his poodle in “Travels with Charley.”

The way I figure it, if you buy enough copies, you might be able to avoid the mall altogether, and you’ll be contributing to a good cause.

Half of all profits will go to Rolling Dog Farm in New Hampshire, formerly Rolling Dog Ranch in Montana. The sanctuary for blind, deaf and disabled animals relocated last year, and it was one of the stops on our journey across America.

Inside our calendar, you’ll find 18 unusual slices of American life – from our visit to John Steinbeck’s grave in Salinas, California, to dropping in at a gentlemen’s club in Dallas, where Ace spent time with Mel, a former Michael Vick dog.

From Dog Mountain in Vermont (one artist’s tribute to dog) to Salvation Mountain in California (one artist’s tribute to God). From Maine’s magnificent coast to Niagara’s roaring falls. From standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona to spotting dogs in the kudzu in Mississippi.

The calendar allows you to relive our journey, without spending a penny on gas; to see the places we went, the people we met and the dogs we bumped into.One month also features some of our old dog friends back in Baltimore.

It’s $25, plus $3 for shipping and handling, and each copy is hand signed by me – not Ace, though, as he has declared a moratorium on pawtographs.

It’s an 18-month calendar, which will carry you all the way to June, 2013.

And, or so we hope, it will raise a few bucks for Rolling Dog Farm, which you can learn more about here.

To place your orders, visit this page.