Back when Cowgrit and I were dating, well before either of us had any idea of marriage, we got a puppy together — a miniature schnauzer. I had never even heard of a miniature schnauzer before, and seeing one really didn’t turn me on to the breed. They’re not exactly a “man’s” dog. They’re not poodles, at least, but they’re not retrievers, either. They’re not even beagles.

But Cowgrit’s family had a min schnauzer when she was younger, and she liked the breed. I eventually warmed to the idea of a small dog (we both lived in small apartments, at the time), plus, they don’t shed fur — a benefit for someone who didn’t like to clean and vacuum regularly anyway.

We got the puppy — 10 weeks old — and I immediately fell in love with her. And she absolutely adored me, too. We named her Geordi. (We were both Star Trek:the Next Generation fans.)

Geordi liked to snuggle up with Cowgrit, but she liked to play with me. At the time, we were both in college, and lived just off campus. I’d take Geordi walking through and around campus often. She was so well behaved, and we trained her so well, that I usually didn’t have to keep a leash on her. She’d always stay near me on our treks.

Oh man, I loved that little dog. We had so much fun together. Maybe I’ll tell you about some of our adventures in a later post.

She was about 11 years old when our first child was born. She was already slowing down by then, and by the time our second child was born, she was suffering from sever arthritis. At 15 years old, she was just pathetic. She was in always in pain and just couldn’t hardly get around anymore.

She died before our second child was a year old. Calfgrit8 says he remembers her, but it must be only vaguely, because he wasn’t old enough, and she was too old for them to really play together. Calgrit4 doesn’t remember her at all.

Cowgrit and I have discussed getting a new dog for a couple of years, now — pretty much since about a year after Geordi died. But adding more responsibility to our already busy life just didn’t seem like a good idea. In fact, I still have doubts about the idea, but I’ve given in to how much Cowgrit wants another miniature schnauzer.

I remember how much fun I had with Geordi, and I can imagine how much fun our two boys could have with a similar dog in the house and yard. We already have a fenced in back yard (I put up the fence for Geordi), and we already know all about taking care of a miniature schnauzer.

So now Cowgrit is checking out local breeders. We’re looking for puppies born now, so they’ll be ready to adopt in the spring — no one wants to have to take a puppy outside in the winter climate.

I think this will be a good friend and experience for our boys, but I’ve got to admit that I’m worried about adding even more responsibility to our lives. If we can get a dog very similar to Geordi — personality, intelligence, energy, and loves me to death — I think this could be fun, just like the first time.

Bullgrit

Pinewood derby racing has come all high-tech. The track ramp has six lanes starting with a gate wired to the finish line timers. The timers at the end show which lane came in first, second, third, etc. The officials enter all the racer names into a computer, and the system automatically arranges the scouts into random heats of six cars. Each car will race six times –- once on each lane of the track. I think our derby was 36 heats.

The computer screen was projected onto a huge display high up in the hall, where everyone could see the scout names and the results of each heat. It’s very nice. The high-tech tracking and results contrasted the wooden track like a marriage of 21st century science and 20th century folk art.

I was proud of Calfgrit8’s patience with the whole process. He waited calmly for his turns (although he talked happily with his friends while waiting), he paid attention enough to get up and get his car from the storage table when he was supposed to, and he followed directions perfectly to place his car on the starting line and then go sit at the end of the track.

In his first race, he came in 4th out of the six cars. In his second race, he came in 3rd. He seemed satisfied with these results, and I was happy the car wasn’t coming in last place. I crossed my fingers that maybe his car could come in one place better for at least one race. His third race, he was back in 4th place. Then 4th place again in his fourth race. Well, the car was consistent. Then it came in 5th place. Oh shoot. Then for the final heat, it came in 6th place.

I was a little disappointed that it came in last place for the last heat –- hate to end the derby with a last place finish. But I was happy to see that in none of the races was the car way behind. One or two of the cars sometimes pulled out way in the lead, but most of the other cars stayed in a bunch. Even when our car came in last place, it was a close run –- all the cars were neck and neck.

The 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winners were those who had the best average time over all the races. I was surprised to see that the low, wedge-shaped, or narrow, rocket-like cars were not noticeably faster than the less aerodynamic designs. In fact, the 1st place winner of the races was a car that had barely been carved down from the original block. (Red arrows point to the overall winning car in the picture.)

I talked with the scout’s mom about it (they’re in our scout den), and that scout built his car completely all by himself. That was really great. I’m glad that car and kid won.

Bullgrit

Before leaving the house for the race day, I made sure the car was in proper working order — wheels turned, weights were secure, and total weight was 5.0 ounces. I took my drill with us, just in case I needed it. (I considered that the scale I was using might not be perfectly in sync with the official scale at the derby, so I wanted to be prepared — the Boy Scout motto.)

The hall for the races was packed with scouts and parents. There were probably around a hundred people there. The sounds of small power tools was a continuous background noise, behind the cacophony of voices.

We got in line for our class registration (Wolf and Bear Cut Scouts — 8 and 9 year olds). Once up at the table, our car was weighed: 5.05 ounces. The official scale measured to the one hundredth of an ounce — ours at home only went to one tenth.

OK, no problem, I have my drill. But how much is five one hundredths of an ounce? How much do I need to drill out? The official weighing the car said, “Oh, very, very little. Just a tiny amount.”

We took the car off to the side, where other dads were making adjustments to their sons’ cars. I pulled out my drill, put in a bit, and then thought, Wait, “Just a tiny amount.” Instead of drilling a hole, I took another drill bit and just scraped the bottom of the car a little — just some removed some shavings, really.

We got back in the line again and made our way back to the registration table. The official weighed our car again: still 5.05 ounces. OK, we went back to the work corner of the hall.

I chatted with some of the other dads and a couple of Scout Masters about it, “I don’t mind at all taking off the extra weight to get it fair, but I have no idea how much .05 ounces is.” I was told just a couple of holes should take care of it. I drilled three holes.

We got back in line and again made our way to the registration table. Weight: 5.04 ounces. “Jeez!” Then I had a thought, “Take the helmet off the driver and see how much that weighs.” Weight: 5.01 ounces. “Oh man!” I reached for the car, but the official said they could allow that weight.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “I can work on it again to make it exact.”

The official said .01 was allowed. I asked Calfgrit8 if he minded racing his car without the driver’s helmet. To be honest, I didn’t want to work on it again — we’d already been there 20 minutes and hadn’t even gotten registered in yet. I was getting flustered in all the back and forth, and with all the noisy crowd around me.

But I didn’t want my little guy to be disappointed in his car — he specifically put that Lego mini together for this car. (The figure has the legs and body of a spaceman, the face of a knight, and the helmet of a stormtrooper.) CG8 said he was fine with the driver not having his helmet. He took the helmet and kept it in his hand for a while. Actually, I think he just wanted to hold at least part of the toy.

After passing the weigh in, a Boy Scout assistant official measured the width and length of the car, and then it was registered with a number written on the bottom. It was placed on a table with the others so far registered.

The picture to the right shows about half the cars in our class. There were some pretty cool designs; some looked like they’d be rockets on the track, and some looked like they’d be bricks.

Some were simple wedges, some were pretty elaborate. There were plenty of race car designs, of course, but there was also a shoe, a tank, a van, and even a Wii remote control design. Some looked like they were built by 2nd graders, some looked like they were built by college educated engineers.

Beyond the basic speed prize (1st, 2nd, and 3rd places) there were judges’ picks on design — most futuristic, most patriotic, most unique, etc. Calfgrit8 was disappointed to not win any design award (I didn’t expect to, and I didn’t even know that he was hoping for a prize.)

The coolest thing, though, about the prizes was which car won 1st place in the race. To be continued. . .

Bullgrit