Hilbert Space

In the previous post I told the story of Hilbert and the beer infused slugs. Legend has it that David Hilbert, the greatest mathematician of his time, once said (in German, of course), “Points, lines and planes should be able to be replaced with tables, chairs and beer mugs.” Make that beer mugs full of kibble, please.

Here is a picture of Hilbert space, or is it Hilbert in space?  Or is it just a picture of an astronaut I took from NASA and pasted Hilbert's face on?

For better Hilbert pictures, don't forget that Hilbert’s Happy Day is free on Wednesdays!

Why did the terrier cross the yard?

Last year at this time I was nursing Hilbert as he got sicker from liver failure.  I'd like to share some (in retrospect) fun times.

 

Mankind may never know why the chicken crossed the road, but I learned why Hilbert crossed the yard.

I grew hostas in the shady area near the hedge in the backyard. In the spring, they would be attacked by snails and slugs. One environmentally friendly way that I dealt with these pests was to place bowls of beer in the area. The pests crawled in, but didn’t come out. I assumed that they died happy or at least felt no pain.

One spring day after Hilbert came to live with us, I opened the backdoor and Hilbert ran straight to the back corner of the yard. From where I stood, he was hidden from view behind the bushes.

“Here, Hilbert,” I called. “Time to come in.”

Nothing. No dog, no movement.

“Here, boy”

Still nothing.

I put on my shoes and walked over to where I had last seen Hilbert headed.

There he was drinking/eating the snail/slug infused beer. Lap, lap, lap, crunch. Lap, lap, lap, crunch.

I grabbed him under his belly and carried him inside. I called the vet to see if I needed to bring him in for treatment.

“Uh, my dog was drinking beer. Is that okay?” I explained the situation.

After being scolded for letting him near the beer and being sternly warned to keep him from driving until he was completely sober, it was determined that Hilbert had not had enough to drink to harm him.  And the slugs were probably a good source of protein.

After this happened, I ordered the beer slug traps with the snap on lids that let the snails and slugs in and keep the dogs out.  They worked well and both the hostas and the dogs have done well since!

Merry Christmas to all!

Here is a picture of Shoebert and Albert with Santa in 2000.  They were about 10 months old and still loved Santa!

Just a reminder, Hilbert's Happy Wednesday always has a free Kindle book from the Hilbert's Happy Day series on Wednesdays.  The third book is coming soon.

Rat Terrier Christmas

It’s Christmas time!  Mini and I have been spreading holiday cheer around the nursing home.  Both she and I (but especially Mini) were a bit hit in our festive attire.  Doesn’t she look great in her party dress?

The Rat Dog Pack wishes you all a wonderful holiday season and a very happy 2013 with peace on earth, goodwill to all.  God bless us everyone.

 

Hilbert 2.0

I recently entered a writing contest.  The rules were to write a science related story in no more than 350 words.  I didn't win.  However, you can read the story here!

Hilbert 2.0

‘Drop it.’

‘Grrrrr’

‘I said “drop it.”’

‘GRRRRR’

Whack.

Thunk.

My anachronistic, resource squandering, tree killing insistence on receiving New Scientist in hardcopy comes in handy as Mini drops the remote control.

Mini, aka, Hilbert 2.0, is my dog.  Hilbert, my previous dog, died last March.  When Hilbert died I went into a depression, locking myself in my room, reading years of archived stories on NewScientist.com. 

I studied every article I could find on cloning.  Finally realizing that a cloned version of Hilbert would neither look nor act exactly the same as the original, I decided the world would be better if I adopted a shelter dog.

But then I hit upon robotics and artificial intelligence.  Hundreds of e-mails later, from every continent, with lots of help from Google Translate, I had a workable plan.

I bartered for a wireless router; a set of speakers; a heating pad; miscellaneous electronic bits and a Commodore 64.  For this I gave up my collection of Philip K. Dick hardbacks -- not a problem because I have them all on my Kindle.  I added to the haul some fabric and a roll of duct tape.   Then I set to work.

After eight days straight living on coffee and soldering fumes, I loaded the neural network into my new Hilbert.  Due to some conversion problems (damn metric system!) I ended up with a dog two-thirds the size of Hilbert. Hence, the nickname Mini.  That was six months ago.

Apart from size, Mini is Hilbert, including his chaotic, random number, decision tree powered brain.  If it runs, chase it; if not, eat it.  The only other difference is house-training; I deliberately omitted that.

Tired and sweaty from running after Mini, I go up to soak in a warm bath.  I grab a dead tree edition of New Scientist off the back of the toilet.  At least it won’t short circuit if I drop it in the tub, unlike my Kindle.

‘No, Mini, down.  NO!’

Splash.

Sigh.  Time to visit the animal shelter.   

Shoebert putting the back issues of

 New Scientist to use the rat terrier way

BTW, don't let the story mislead you.  I would never hit Mini or any of my dogs with a rolled up Magazine.

Free Kindle book November 30

This Friday (11/30/2012) How (Not) to Kiss Your Dog will be free on Kindle! Yes, you read right - IT'S FREE!

/http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0083YGS4C

Mini gets another rabbit

A few weeks after the rabbit leg incident, I was home sick (see below) resting in the living room.  The dogs were out in the yard for quite a while, giving me some peace.  Mini came strutting in holding the body of a rabbit.  And I mean body; the head and one of the front legs were gone.  There was no blood, but it still looked pretty fresh.  I gathered it up, wrapped it in some plastic bags and disposed of it as I have others in the past.  Read How (Not) to Kiss Your Dog for the details.