Staying Connected to Your Pet (or Loved One)

When my dog Boomer reached age seven, he became more and more disagreeable. As in: I disagree that I should come when you say, "come." I disagree that I should sit when you say, "sit." I disagree that it's time to "go get that ball."

My golden mutt was in some kind of rebellion. Like dance partners who couldn't get it right, we were out of sync. One of us was slacking off in his performance.

Eventually, the partner with the larger brain identified the problem: I was the slacker in our relationship. Why? I was failing to uphold my end of the bargain, my part of the dance. I had stopped watching Boomer come, or sit, or go get that ball, and had started taking him for granted.

When given a command, Fat Dawg, as he's also known, is eager to please, but only if I pay attention, remain committed and acknowledge and praise his completion of the task. That's the way we drew it up, indeed, the deal we made for life: I speak, he follows, I watch, then offer praise.

"Eye contact. Active interest. Participation. A smile on Daddy's face."

During Boomer's rebellion, I showed less interest in the things my dog loved doing for me, the things that gave him self-confidence, joy and security in our relationship. His rebellion was against my lack of attention, my not living up to my established role. His disagreeable actions were his way of telling me: perhaps you're the one who isn't getting it right.

Once I got the message, I began to get it right. Again. Consistency. Attentiveness. Eye contact. Active interest. Participation. Encouragement. Approval. A smile on Daddy's face. These are the things that brought us together. Like fibers, they are also the things that keep us together, helping us to form a stronger and stronger bond. Boomer will follow, as long as I lead and do my part. In terms of effort, he gives whatever I give.

My dog is eleven years old now. His rebellion a distant memory. I can't help thinking staying connected is the key to any relationship, be it with your dog, the kids or your significant other.

It's about always honoring that which bonded you to one another. The more you stay connected to that bond, the greater the rewards. Like a job you love to do. And loving Boomer is a job I hope to do for a very, very long time.

Note 2 Self: Still need to do the one about Boomer Loves the Bearcat, and tell readers how I came up with the name When In Doubt, Pet the Dog, a periodic memoir or blog feature or journal thingy, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks (.com).

• Photography by Jeri Thompson

“I'm not racist, I voted for Barack Obama!”

The more things change, the more things remain the same. Two hundred years ago, 100% of white Americans feared black people. What's the rate down to nowadays? 46%? 36%? Or am I dreaming through multi-racial-colored glasses?

I first realized what blacks meant to white Americans while watching the violent images on TV in the 1960s: white men using dogs, fire hoses and bloodshed to keep black people out of their lives. I was no more than a child of five years old, six years old, seven years old, eight years old.

The message was clear: blacks were not wanted; the very idea of black people being treated as equals caused a dramatic, explosive reaction in white people.

Move onto my street? Attend my school? Marry my daughter? Take up space next to me, alongside me, as one of me?

Other Americans had dreams, too. They dreamed of a country that maintained its white supremacist ways, from sea to shining sea. They dreamed of keeping their businesses, their restaurants, their personal lives WHITES ONLY.

"Life is still segregated on television and in the movies."

The dreams of those Americans didn't just dissolve into thin air with the passage of legislation and forced integration. Some of those Americans passed on their WHITES ONLY ideas to their children, who passed on their WHITES ONLY ideas to their children, who are passing on their WHITES ONLY ideas to children today.

Life is still segregated on television and in the movies. And in My Racist Gay World. People still use the term “all-American” to describe a certain kind of white man, someone part of an all-star lineup with a very exclusive velvet rope policy.

Some WHITES ONLY preferences of yesterday have morphed into WHITES AND LATINS ONLY, the most popular phrase on the gay internet. Every day in America, countless gay men create online personal ads and take the time to type into those ads (in ALL CAPS): WHITES AND LATINS ONLY.

It's often followed by: NO BLACKS. NO ASIANS. SORRY JUST A PREFERENCE. The variations are infinite, but the intent is the same. And then there's the oft-used trick of listing the type of men one desires and listing everything but blacks. For example, an ad might read: looking for masculine, muscular guys who are white, Latin, middle eastern, Asian and native American.

Gay guys spend a lot of time and energy making sure their WHITES AND LATINS ONLY preferences are known, just as many Americans did during the last century. They also spend a lot of energy justifying and identifying their preferences as anything but racism, often using the exact same phrases used by segregationists in the South a mere fifty years ago.

No offense. It's nothing personal. Some of my best friends are black.

Of course, there is one new defense for these preferences not heard in the last century (and yes, I have had gay guys tell me this):

I'm not racist, I voted for Barack Obama!

The more things remain the same, the more things change. Or am I dreaming through multi-racial-colored glasses?

• WHITES AND LATINS ONLY, a photo essay using gay men's online language in images reminiscent of the segregated Old South, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks (.com).

America, Hook Me Up!

My Fellow Americans,

Hook me up! When's my turn? Don't I get a turn? Can I be part of this American Dream? You know, the one where you meet the love of your life and live happily ever after, more or less?

There are plenty of dating reality shows featuring mostly-white bachelors and bachelorettes searching for love and romance (with other mostly-white bachelors and bachelorettes), but what about someone like me finding love and romance?

Which me? Take your pick. The black me. The gay me. The me that's HIV-positive. Where does someone like me fit into America's romantic dreams? Do I not deserve love, too? Are my hopes and dreams worthy of America's attention and indeed, support? The kind of support that gets Hollywood to make movies, sitcoms and reality shows starring someone like me, a black gay man living with HIV/AIDS?

It's high time Hollywood stopped ignoring the stories and dreams of people living with HIV/AIDS. Our lives are not all doom and gloom. Many people with AIDS are surviving and thriving, thanks to science. Where are our stories? Aren't they dramatic enough? Touching enough? Inspirational enough?

It seems as though America is having a hard time imagining me as someone Americans can fall in love with. Fortunately, they don't have to. I'm going to imagine it for them.

A Magazine that Makes a Difference

This year, Poz Magazine celebrated its 15th anniversary. That's fifteen years of putting voices and faces to the human story that is HIV/AIDS.

Last year, the folks at Poz helped me celebrate my 46th birthday with my very own back page essay marking a very unique milestone: 23 years living without HIV/AIDS, 23 years living with HIV/AIDS.

Thanks for the support, Poz, and congratulations on fifteen years of being there for me and for others dealing with HIV/AIDS.

Click here for Halftime Show by Randy Boyd, as featured in Poz Magazine, April 2008.

Having trouble? Click here for Poz Magazine's online version.

President Obama: Good for My Health

“Throughout the history of humanity, the greatest ideas, innovations and inventions involved people thinking thoughts, dreaming dreams and creating creations that were, at one point, considered crazy, twisted, unbelievable, false, outta this world, impossible, incredible, sacrilege, beyond our wildest imagination, freaky, insane, worth burning to suppress, too revolutionary, scary, too much, the end of the world as we know it.”

- from Walt Loves the Bearcat

Dear President Obama,

You are one inspiring president right now, the way you're fighting for health care reform.

Your opponents--you know, that group of people who oppose whatever you say and do--they're throwing every trick in the political book at you. The howls of desperate men and women. Why do they not cry out with a plan of their own instead of filling the airwaves with rumors and lies?

They have no plan, except to disrupt your actions with circus tricks and media magic.

You can't even drink a beer without criticism. And you want to change health care? lol

You remind me of me and a lifetime of being the first black this or the first black that. First black newspaper editor-in-chief. First black cheerleader. First black in the drama department. First black in the office. You say the sky is blue; your opponents scream blasphemy. They can't decide what bothers them most, the idea you're presenting or the idea that it's you who's presenting it. Double blasphemy!

"They're willing to crush you, even if it means America is worse off."

But you, Mr. President, keep on doing your job, a job never held by someone like you. They can't imagine you coming in and being the president who rights the ship and sets a steady course for the foreseeable future. They can't even imagine you as a good president. Fortunately, they don't have to. You're imagining it for them.

They're willing to crush you, even if it means America is worse off. And yet you forge onward, undeterred and undaunted. You make your case and make it clearly. You remain you, a patient, rational man. You remain someone I aspire to be more like.

I can't go back in time and be a more patient first black in all the ways I filled that role in the past. But I can learn from my president and the way he behaves as he fights for better health care for all Americans.

Speaking of health care. I support you. All Americans deserve health care now. Why? Because universal health care is now a must, a hallmark even, of any modern day, advanced nation intent on being the leader in the world. For the love of a lower infant mortality rate, now is the time.

The big dreamers of the past faced the same kinds of hysterics from their opponents. I suppose it's only natural. Fortunately, in you, I have a president who not only dreams big and thinks big, he does so with dignity and respect. That in and of itself, makes you a great man in my eyes.

Thank you, President Obama, for being good for my health!

• Also check out: Black Man Confesses: I Love America!

Doggone Cell Phone

My dog Boomer was born in the digital age. He's never known life without cell phones.

Not that he uses them, mind you. Not after running up the bill with all that texting! Still, he's all about my cell phone and the message it sends him.

See Boomer prove he's a Dog with an Ear for Cell Phone Signals in this heartwarming installment of When In Doubt, Pet the Dog, a periodic column or memoir or blog thingy, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks.

Letter to My Therapist

Dear Therapist,

I first sat on your couch as a 24-year-old, recent UCLA grad.

"I need help with my self-esteem," I told you.

I'm in my late 40s now, and it's time for an Update from the Unlovable Nigger Faggot.

Dear Oprah: Still Waiting To Rock Your Soul

Dear Oprah: Please Read "Walt Loves the Bearcat"

Homos and Hoops

Every pro basketball game ever played has included men who have had sex with other men. Call 'em homos. Call 'em bi. Call 'em horny and curious. Men fuck around with other men, simple as that. Call 'em married, even. The fact remains: men fuck around with other men.

In 2007, one man, John Amaechi, admitted he was gay. Another man, Tim Hardaway, admitted he hates gays. Six years earlier, this man said both men were gay ... in two humorous, fictional articles about "The Most Likely Gay Ballers in the NBA."

What does it all mean for homos and hoops? Find out when The Man Who Pegged Amaechi and Hardaway as Gay Speaks Out.

On Black Men Loving White Men

Some black people try to tell me who I should love and fuck. Funny, not one of those same black people has ever offered to love me or fuck around with me.

So you're not offering to be with me, but you're telling me who I should be with? (sic)

Do the people I date and the subjects of my novels need certain ethnic credentials? And if so, which credentials? See how this mutt of a man responds to all the fuss in Racial Profiling for Love.