Eureka. (Part 2)

This has turned out to be a multidimensional study. And not all of the findings are serendipitous.

If I were older and less scientifically inclined, I might be tempted to rant a bit. But I'll just show you the data instead.

Figure 2. Relationship between human sleeping habits and trips to the park













Figure 3. Relationship between human sleeping habits and food quality














You can draw your own conclusions. I'd love to discuss this further, but I have to dash out for a moment.

Eureka!

Last night, I gathered the final piece of data on a long-term study of the relationship between park snacking and the sleeping habits of humans.

Every morning, I take Dad to the park for snacks. It's a smorgasbord!

Some snacks used to be alive. Some snacks used to be inside other dogs. And some snacks were once sports equipment. One of my favorites is tennis ball skins.

Dad hates it when I snack. He doesn't realize that I'm just fulfilling my function as a scavenger in the Big Scheme of Things. (By the way, Jim Kalish, I notice that you're very quiet on the subject of ticks. I rest my case.)

Anyway, I swallow very quickly and run even faster so there's nothing he can do about it.

But I found out that snacking is highly correlated with a seemingly unrelated phenomenon: Dad's sleep patterns.

The more I snack, the more likely he is to get up at 3 AM, go downstairs, and open the back door. When I hit the snack mother lode, like I did yesterday, it's a virtual guarantee that we'll make a trip to the backyard together (Figure 1).

Figure 1. Relationship between park snacks and human behavior.











I'm excited to have discovered this link, but Dad doesn't share my enthusiasm. Sometimes, he can be a wet blanket about science.

Tickus Vizslosis

Well.

I'm really peeved at Skippy now. Look what was under my collar after our romp through the woods. (Warning: Scientific image follows. Not for the squeamish.)



This picture was taken by a scientist named Jim Kalish, from the University of Nebraska. He works in the Department of Entomology. That's 'entom-' from the Latin word for 'repulsive things that drop out of trees, latch on, and hitch a ride for a week or so' and '-ology' meaning 'the study of.'

As a scientist, I try to be objective. But, honestly, I fail to see the value of ticks. Perhaps, Jim, if you're reading, you could post a comment vis-a-vis the purpose of ticks in the Big Scheme of Things?

Skippy didn' t have a tick under his collar. The ringleader escapes unscathed, and the innocent bystander suffers the consequences--isn't that how it always goes? Next time I see Skippy, I'm giving him what for. And hiding his cigarettes.

Fun with physics

After dinner, there's nothing I like better than a little lab work. Here I am, experimenting with mass, momentum, gravity, and drag.

My lab apparatus is a model of the DNA double helix. Dad calls it a 'snake.' I guess his degree isn't in science.

Conference proceedings

Today, I went to a conference. I commuted to Portland to attend a gathering of dog scientists.

The topic was irrelevant. You've been to conferences, I'm sure, so you know that going to a conference isn't about the presentations. It's all about the networking. Who just got a million dollar grant, whose funding is drying up, where an endowed chair is in the works. That's the good stuff--you can read the rest of it in the proceedings.

Like the previous conferences I've attended, this one was held at the conference center on Martin Luther King Boulevard.



It's a spacious facility--wait a second! Wrong picture. Next slide, please.













My meeting was at the other conference center on MLK. As I was saying, it's a spacious facility. Plenty of room for networking. My colleagues were there, of course...



but the most pleasurable aspect of networking is with some of the conference staff. One conference staff person, in particular.



Pay no attention to the scientist on the right. I have it on very good authority that he lied about doing post-doc work at Stanford. In fact...



That's better. To tell the truth, she's the only reason I enjoy going to conferences at all.

The Importance of an Empty Mind

A popular misconception about scientists is that our greatest insights occur when we're hunched over a microscope or lighting a Bunsen burner.

Not so.

Insights come when the scientific mind is at rest. The equations all add up, the beakers and pipettes are in the 'rinse' cycle, and the old gray matter can do some free association. What looks like idleness to the uneducated observer is actually the Next Big Breakthrough in the making.

So the next time you see a dog scientist doing this...

Do not disturb. Your careless intrusion could mean we never find a cure for the common cold.

And that smell? It's not dinner digesting. It's a result of the release of concentrated energy in the cortex; we scientists call it 'cerebral emissions.' Brain gas.

Dog Science

Dog Scientists are here to serve. We conduct very valuable research on many critical elements of canine life.

Today, I'd like to explain briefly about my primary data-gathering tool, pictured at right.

Notice how efficient it is. Not a scintilla of energy wasted on pigmentation, and the ultimate in low maintenance. Just a little moisture now and then is all that's required, and the dampening wipe is stored conveniently in the pouch underneath.

Portable and inconspicuous. It looks completely natural. No one suspects that I'm actually gathering data 24 hours a day, seven days a week--yes, even from underneath the blanket on my comfy bed.

This is the data recording device. This image is greatly enlarged for clarity.
The actual size is closer to this:


Like any delicate piece of equipment, my tool requires daily calibration. I take care of this simple process at the dog park. I zero it out by smelling underneath several dog tails. I take it into the red zone by goosing a few people. Then my tool is ready to detect edible molecules.

To date, all of my research studies focus on the six basic food groups: Kibble, Treats, Bones Because Dad Feels Guilty about Leaving Me at Home Alone, Discarded Paper, Things Except Mushrooms That Fall on the Kitchen Floor, and Poop.

I love being a scientist.

My evil twin, Skippy

Sometimes, the pressure just gets to be too much. All that 'heel' ing, 'here'ing, and waiting politely for them to put a pile of brown pellets in my bowl.

Then Skippy comes out.

Just this week, while Dad and I were up at the cabin, Skippy made me run away. Dad had everything packed in the Elephent and was ready to go, but Skippy took off, running hellbent for leather, down the hill.

At first, I felt conflicted.

"Wait! Wait! Dad's calling! We have to go back!" I was afraid we'd get lost.

"Screw Dad," he said, lighting a cigarette. Skippy knows we're not supposed to smoke, but he doesn't care. "We have things to do, places to explore."

In the middle of calculating our location from the height of the sun and the slope of the hill, I forgot all about Dad.

The places Skippy took me! Up hills, down hills, far, far away from where we started. We found a little brown dog who, just that morning, had let me say hello to her in my favorite way. From behind. On two legs. I said hello to her over and over and over again. Dad doesn't really approve, but Skippy thinks I'm quite the mandog.

Skippy and I and the brown dog smelled things and chased things and rolled in things.

Hours and hours later, Skippy got tired. I suddenly remembered that I'd left my box of brown pellet-y food at the cabin, so I backtracked up hills and down hills. I had the feeling I'd forgotten something else, too, but I couldn't think of what it was until I saw him sitting in the grass by the Elephent.

Dad was very glad to see me, but he called Skippy a name I can't repeat here, because this is a G-rated blog.

Sorry you had to wait for so long...

It's taken me nearly five years, but I've mastered using a keyboard. It's not easy when you only have toes--and just four on each foot.

Not to mention how hard it is to hold a pencil and annotate 'The Elements of Style' without opposable thumbs. Or thumbs at all, for that matter.

But persistence is the mark of a great dog.

Anyway, here I am, ready to set a new canine standard for excellence in blogging. Handsome, well-read, and dedicated to bringing you insights from the four-legged world.