So M’hijito and his buddy drove to the wealthy northside suburbs halfway to Alaska, there to view the golden retriever said Buddy had heard about. They were pretty excited about the possibility of M’hijito finding the Dawg of His Dreams. He has wanted a dog for a long time but was waiting until the muddy back yard was desert-landscaped and his life was in order so he could care properly for a pet.
What they found was a harassed and weepy woman with a pair of four-year-old twins, a fourteen-year-old daughter, a McMansion way too big for one freshly impoverished divorcée to keep up when she’s not practicing medicine, and two large out-of-control dogs, one the alleged golden and the other something that looked like an American bulldog.
At the outset, M’hijito suspected the “golden” was a mix, probably containing some pit bull. The woman said she had the dog’s papers in a file but couldn’t find them (aren’t you glad she’s not your doctor!). Asked if she had vaccination records, she repeated the story and then said the reason she didn’t have a county rabies tag for the dog was that the dog ate its collar.
Ah. A new variant on “the dog ate my homework.” Good, very good.
Both dogs had been kept outdoors. Period. Neither was house-trained or even allowed inside the house. Neither was obedience-trained. The bulldog, M’hijito said, was completely berserk and hopelessly out of control. The retriever would not come to call, did not heel, and, though friendly and affable, clearly was not socialized to live with humans.
You understand what “never allowed to come inside” means… This summer we had day after day after searing day of 116-degree-plus heat. I would go outside at 10 o’clock at night and find the thermometer on the back porch resting at 100 degrees. Temperatures rarely dropped below 90 at any hour of the day or night between early June and the end of August.
Leaving a domestic dog, particularly one bred to swim in icy lakes, outside in that kind of extreme heat comes under the heading of “abuse.” And then…
Yes. And then the woman admitted that the 14-year-old whose pet this dog was supposed to be sat around the house all summer while her parents put in 12- to 14-hour workdays. The mother would come home in the evening to find the dogs outside with no water, because the kid couldn’t get off her duff long enough to turn on the hose and fill up a dog dish.
Considering that this child was 12 at the time Daddy brought the retriever home for her, I believe we’ve arrived at “criminal neglect.”
M’hijito is convinced that the dog is no purebred golden retriever. He thinks she has some pit bull in her. From the picture, it’s hard to tell. I’d say she’s a golden, but maybe an individual that a breeder would label “pet” quality. She may be the product of a puppy mill.
Something’s not quite right, that’s for sure… She looks too thin for a two-year-old dog—at 18 months, a golden starts to fill out. Her coat’s not great, though some goldens are less furry than others. And that slight crustiness around the eyes doesn’t bode well. Likely she’s showing the stress from two years of neglect that rises to the level of abuse. There’s also the possibility that, having been left outdoors in our dust storms, she’s picked up valley fever. Compare this dog with the ones on the rescue site, and she looks like one of the “before” photos.
At any rate, M’hijito decided to decline the opportunity, and so Buddy took the dog home. Mrs. Buddy was none too thrilled, she being heavily gravid with her own twins and already responsible for two other large dogs. So the dog ended up at M’hijito’s house overnight, while Mr. Buddy worked on Mrs. Buddy. By the following morning she had caved, and so they came by his house to retrieve the retriever.
I’m such a bag lady. Not literally…but I suffer acutely from Bag Lady Syndrome. You can tell me till you’re blue in the face that I have plenty to get by, but I won’t believe it until the bills are paid and no one has carted me off to the poor farm.
Matter of fact, this morning after I’d run another Excel spreadsheet that showed, contrary to the present optimistic theory, an average shortfall in 2010’s enforced “retirement” of $740 a month, my financial adviser was on the phone, cooing in soothing tones, “You’ll be f-i-i-n-e.” Even though I don’t have anything like a million bucks in the bank, he says, there’s more than enough to supplement Social Security and cover all my expenses for about 50 years, at a 4 percent drawdown.
The other day Frugal Scholar, the professor with the penchant for thrift-store shopping, reported a delightful revelation: truth to tell, she and Mr. FS could rent their paid-for house and retire to Costa Rica. Today. Gone fishin’. Once and for all… If they so chose.
Ah hah! Financial independence: freedom to do as you please, absent the chains of debt.
Many of us, I think, assume that to enter that blessed state we need to have stashed enough in savings to make us wealthy by most anyone’s definition: a million bucks or more. But I beg to differ. With a reasonable standard of living and a paid-for roof over your head, you don’t have to be a millionaire to achieve financial independence and maintain a middle-class lifestyle. A much more modest stash can support you, given the right conditions.
The Scholars appear to be situated firmly in the financial middle class. With the exception of university presidents, certain deans, and the occasional patent-holding bioengineer, academics don’t earn much. At least, not in the larger scheme of things—compared, say, to the owner of a carpet-cleaning service, to a doctor or a lawyer, to a basketball player, or to a twenty-something kid on Wall Street. It’s unlikely that even between the two of them they’ve stashed a million bucks in their 403(b) plans. Yet they are financially independent. They could, if they wished, retire today with little or no change of lifestyle (other than moving to a tropical paradise…).
The first key to financial independence is to get out of debt. All debt, including the mortgage. You’ll notice that the Scholars had the initiative and self-discipline to pay off their house. In my own case, I’m especially grateful that I managed to do that a few years ago. Because I don’t have to come up with hundreds of dollars every month to keep a roof over my head, now that I’ve been laid off…hallelujah! I don’t have to get another day job!
And the other key? Come to terms psychologically with living within your means. Though I won’t be enjoying the Queen of Sheba’s lifestyle, neither do I expect to move to the poorhouse. The only real “sacrifice,” if you can call it that, is that I will have to drive my fully functional, very nice nine-year-old Toyota a few more years, rather than trading it in when it reaches the ten-year milepost. I will have to earn a few thousand bucks a year to cover my share of the house M’hijito and I are copurchasing, but that can be done by taking on a couple of easy, part-time teaching gigs. Pay is low, but work is minimal and mildly entertaining.
Debt, particularly mortgage and automobile loans, racks up the largest part of most Americans’ month-to-month costs. Once you no longer have to pay an outrageous slug of interest to keep a roof over your head and wheels under your feet, your ordinary living costs are surprisingly modest.
Financial independence doesn’t necessarily mean not working. After you’ve attained financial independence—that is, your living expenses are low enough that the proceeds from modest savings and other forms of passive income will support you—you’re free to do as you please. If you want to keep working at your job, you can. Or you can take up a more interesting line of work, try to do something less profitable that you’ve always dreamed of doing, or devote your time, energy and skill to altruistic pursuits.
A friend retired from his medical practice with plenty of zing still left. He and his wife spent a year working pro bono at a hospital in New Zealand. Another friend passes his time working for Habitat for Humanity, as does my step-sister. A third decided to become an organist in her old age, an enterprise that led to a wonderful adventure in Australia. With the possible exception of the anesthesiologist and his wife (who by and large live modestly, by Seattle standards), none of these people are wealthy. They live middle-class lifestyles, dwelling in ordinary homes in decent neighborhoods, driving nice-but-not-gaudy cars, staying out of debt, and generally doing as they please…within their means.
In debt on the cards? Or are you contemplating a big purchase and planning to put it on your credit card? Here’s a way to figure out how long it will take to pay off the balance making only the minimum payment each month…and gain some insight into credit-card debt.
Once the calculator has given you the bad news about the minimum-payment strategy, it delivers some more options.
Entering $2,000 as an outstanding debt at 17 percent, I learned it would take 17 years to pay it off, at a rate of $40 a month. By the time the two grand was finally erased from my record, I would have spent $3,181 in interest. So, a swell-elegant $2,000 sofa (for example) would end up costing me $5,181, and the thing would be ready for Goodwill before it was paid for.
Okay, let’s say you can afford payments of more than forty bucks. The results page lets you explore what would happen if you paid more toward principal. Enter $100 a month, and you see you could pay off the card in 24 months, assuming you make no more charges. You’ll pay $369 in interest for the privilege, but at least the sofa will still be standing by the time you’ve paid for it.
You determine to accelerate your debt pay-off plan. How much will you have to pay per month to zero out this card in a year? Enter the number of years you hope it will take you to get rid of the debt, and the monthly payment comes up. Let’s say we want to pay for the sofa in one year: monthly payments would be $183, and in that year $189 in interest would accrue.
Eye-opening, isn’t it?
The extreme joy of deferred purchasing
The moral of the story: some English-major math reveals that if you simply delayed purchasing the sofa until you had $2,000 in the bank, you’d only have to put $166.66 a month aside to be able to buy it in a year.
At $183 a month, you could have the cash to plunk down in 11 months. But if $40 was really all you could afford, then you could buy the sofa outright after just four years.
And it wouldn’t cost you anything in interest. Matter of fact, if you put the swell-elegant sofa fund in a high-interest savings account, your purchase price would earn a few pennies for you. And a penny saved is a penny earned.
Welcome to the 197th edition of the Festival of Frugality! This week’s theme is roads to riches. We’ve all noticed that the road has had a few bumpy patches lately. But as you can see from the many excellent posts below, we’re still travelin’ on.
Several submissions to last week’s carnival were still on the server when I checked in on Friday. Probably these were delayed when Google’s mail system went down last week. For this reason, I’m including the best of those in this week’s round-up—if you see two contributions from a single blogger, that’s the reason.
Editor’s Picks are boldfaced and tagged with jackpot dollar signs: $$$.These are posts I especially enjoyed, but I think you’ll find everything here a useful or fun read. Please be sure to Stumble, Digg, Tweet, or whatever the Festival—get the word out to your friends.
Jonathan Martin
The Negotiation Board Negotiating for Moms
Ideas for applying negotiating techniques to those daily family fiscal matters
Jim
Bargaineering Stay at Home or Pay for Daycare?
Jim pushes a hot button for readers with an off-the-cuff cost-benefit analysis. Interesting article; don’t miss the comments.
NtJS
Not the Jet Set Cloth Diaper Update
NtJS calculates, in detail, the savings from using cloth instead of paper diapers over the past 500 days. Amazing!
Marla Walters
Parenting Squad Sew Easy to Save
If you’re clever, you can save with a sewing machine. I’d add that a community college course in tailoring may help you feel a lot more satisfied with the results.
Kate Kashman
The Paycheck Chronicles Three Ways to Avoid Library Fines
Great ideas, especially if you have kids who check out books at different times!
The Financial Blogger Cash for Clunkers Made in Canada
The idea has caught on in America’s northernmost country—if you’re Canadian, you still have time to trade in the junker.
Kellie
Guest Post
Make It from Scratch Fleece Mittens and Scarf Tutorial
Early snow brings out Mom’s ingenuity. Result: extremely cute chilly weather gear!
Wren Caulfield
True Adventures in Money Hacking
Guest Writer: Elana Devereux Save a Bob When You Travel Abroad
Wise and easy-to-follow advice on traveling without breaking the bank
d. ninja
Punch Debt in the Face The Best Vacations Are Free
Our ninja has engineered a half-dozen free “vacations” (some of them more like workations) over the past couple of years.
Exploring South Wales
Miscellaneous Leads, References, Discoveries, and Whatnot
Green Panda
Green Panda Tree House
Guest Writer: Kelly Whalen Walking: Good for You, Good for Your Wallet
Surprisingly, Kelly’s family finds many walkable destinations in the suburbs—enough to drop to one car!
Mike
Gather Little by Little Facing My Biggest Challenge For 2009
Comparing extra pounds with debt, Mike deploys a commonsense strategy and a little self-discipline, with excellent results.
Sun
The Sun’s Financial Diary Yodlee Does a Better Job Categorizing My Expenses
It’s a little disconcerting to have Mint.com decide a payment for this month’s credit-card bill went to buy alcohol. Sun goes in search of a smarter online personal finance program, and finds one.
Wall Street, 2005
Managing Investments
$$$ MoneyNing How to Make a Roth IRA Conversion
The mechanics are prefaced with a thoughtful rumination on why and whether to make this move. Good, easy-to-understand discussion.
ABC
ABCs of Investing Tax-free Municipal Bonds
Introduction to a (relatively) low-risk savings instrument
Elizabeth G
Modern Gal Are You Sabotaging Your Frugal Life?
Addresses the psychology of frugality and offers positive strategies to stay on track.
Penny Copperwyre
Copperwyre I Abused my Credit Cards Last Week
A sorrow piled on top of hard times leads the Copperwyres to a large expenditure, but they’re undaunted.
M’hijito called the other evening to report that a friend of a friend wants to find a new home for a two-year-old golden retriever. M’hijito himself has craved to get a dog for a long time, and in particular he pines for a golden, the breed of his beloved childhood companion.
The story is that the pup’s family consists of a pair of divorcing doctors. The dog belongs to their fifteen-year-old daughter. Mom and Dad, in their unholy wisdom, have decided that in addition to depriving their child of a stable pair of parents (chances are she hasn’t had one of those in a long time), they’re also going to deprive her of her pet, neither parent wishing to take care of it in singlehood. To be fair, there’s a second pet dog, possibly one that’s more manageable in an apartment (read “doesn’t eat the furniture”). But there it is: the element of cruelty gives M’hijito pause. It has a whiff of coldness about it that makes one wonder what exactly is being offered and why.
Since my familiars have always been dogs (preferably large ones) rather than the tediously conventional black cats, he wanted to know what questions I would ask about this animal and its background, by way of guessing what he was getting into. So, late at night while Cassie the Corgi took the broom for a spin beneath the new moon in the old moon’s arms, I came up with a few things a person might want to know. If you’re interested in adopting an adult dog, especially one that comes from a private home (as opposed to a shelter), you might consider a few of these, too:
1. Where did they get the dog? If it came from a breeder, what breeder? Where? Do they have the dog’s pedigree? Will they let you see it?
2. If you do examine the pedigree, look for forebears that were bred back to a prior generation (for example, the dam to an “uncle.”) This is difficult to figure out, because some degree of inbreeding is considered OK and all breeders do it. But too much? Bad sign.
3. Is the dog OFA-certified? If not, why not? Were both parents OFA-certified? Can the seller prove it? OFA-certified means the dog’s hips were X-rayed at around 18 months and found to be free of hip dysplasia, a painful and crippling inherited defect. Large dogs, in particular, should not be bred without OFA certification. OFA stands for “Orthopedic Foundation for Animals.”
4. Is the dog house-trained?
5. Is it accustomed to using a dog door?
6. Is it crate-trained? If so, do they have a crate they will give you or sell to you?
7. Does the dog like to ride in a car?
8. Has the dog been obedience trained? When, where, and by whom?
9. Will the seller let you take the dog for a walk on a leash, to see how well it heels?
A dog should walk on your left side without pulling on the lead or trying to drag you. Do not pull or drag on the lead yourself. Communicate with the dog with a quick, short jerk on the lead, not by trying to haul the dog in. The best word to tell the dog to walk beside you is “HUP!”
The dog should track beside you as you are walking forward and as you make a U-turn to your right. Do this, walk a ways, do another rightwise U-turn, walk a ways, and then with the dog at your side make a U-turn to your left, so the dog effectively has to pivot or nearly pivot to follow. Walk a ways. Stop. A fully trained obedience dog will sit when you come to a full stop.
If the dog does not sit, quietly tell it to sit. If it doesn’t know to do this, you’ll need to work with it. Gently guide the dog into the “sit” position by holding the lead firmly but gently vertical and pushing the hindquarters to ease the dog into “sit.”
Once you get here, put the lead down (assuming you’re in an enclosed space), tell the dog to “stay”—do not raise your voice but try to sound convincing—and accompany this command with a gesture that places your palm toward the dog’s face. The classic “stop” gesture usually will do it. Step away from the dog, repeating the gesture. Stop. Wait a second. Then call the dog to you.
If the dog will do all these things, then it is respectably trained. Some dogs will not do these things for strangers, especially if they sense any inexperience or unsureness.
10. Are its vaccinations up to date? Do they have a vaccination record that you can take to your vet?
11. Will they let you have the dog examined by your vet before making a final decision? Be prepared to tell a concerned owner your veterinarian’s name and telephone number.
12. Has the dog experienced any health problems? Does it have any known allergies? Ear infections? Digestive issues? Skin problems? How are its teeth?
13. What do they feed the dog? If it’s anything unusual (such as the BARF diet of raw meat and bones), ask them why.
14. How often is the dog used to eating, and how much?
15. How does the dog behave around other dogs? Around small dogs?
16. Is the dog nervous in storms or frightened of lightning and thunder?
17. Does the dog dig in the yard?
18. Does it try to break out of gates or dig under fences, or jump fences?
19. Does it bark, cry, or get into mischief when left alone for a few hours?
20. Observe the dog and see if it appears to be over- or underweight, if it limps, if it’s nervous or jumpy, etc. You might also consider asking if it still chews the furniture.
How is this a money story?How can we count the ways that it isn’t? A full-grown dog that is poorly trained, unsocialized, or psychologically damaged can and will destroy your home, all the furniture and carpets in it, and all the clothing it can get its teeth on. It will excavate your back yard, leaving you with an open-pit mine where your garden was. It will drive your neighbors to the police with complaints about barking and other nuisances. If its health is unsound, the veterinary bills will quickly outstrip the house, furniture, and landscaping repair bills. And if its breeding is faulty, its personality may curdle without warning, leading it to bite you, your children, and your neighbors’ kids.
SDXB—after having delivered another long tirade about the evils of health care reform and how we’re all going to pay lots more for lots less, watch our inviolable American liberties slide away, and ride to Hell on a socialist handcart—recommended that I drop by a CVS pharmacy or a Fry’s grocery store to get a flu shot, since The Great Desert University has quit offering employees free flu vaccine.
So, after checking where the flu clinics were scheduled for that day, I dropped by the CVS around the corner.
The “nurse” who was dispensing the shots had gone to lunch, but her sidekick was there, reading a copy of People magazine. I presented my health insurance card, by way of finding out how much I would have to pay for an immunization. She looked at the card and said she’d never heard of it. Then she plowed through a 50- or 60-page guide, searching several 8 1/2- x 11-inch fine-print pages for some clue. She did find that some Beech Street plans cover the Mollen Clinic’s flu and pneumonia shots, but she couldn’t tell whether the State of Arizona’s plan is among them.
So I asked her if the Cigna plan I’m being switched to next month would cover it. With only a week to go, it would probably be worth waiting to save the thirty bucks charged to members of the unwashed public who have no insurance. She repeated her time-consuming, eye-straining search. Again, she couldn’t tell: some Cigna plans were covered, but…now… Get this! Cigna customers were to provide a credit card number, which would be sent to the insurer. Cigna would then decide if and how much they would cover, charging the balance to the card.
I said I didn’t think I’d like to give out my credit card number and carte blanche to charge an unknown amount to it. She agreed that would not be the best of all possible ideas.
Moving on… I decided not to waste any more time waiting for the “nurse” to come back, since another site, a Fry’s grocery store, was on my way to the various errands I had to run.
There I again presented the Beech Street/RANAMN card. Again the customer service assistant had never heard of RAN-AMN. So, not wanting to drive 15 miles out of my way, pay for parking, and hike around trying to find the clinics for downtown state employees, I paid the $30 to get the damn shot. Before getting to that point, though, I had to fill out two legal-sized pages of forms detailing personal information that’s no one’s business.
On my way out, I mentioned that next year I’ll be on Medicare and asked whether Medigap insurance would cover the shots.
“Oh, no,” she said. “Medicare Part B covers flu shots. They’re free. And you don’t have to fill out the form then—all you have to do is sign this line” (indicates a blank on the two-page form) “and you’re done!”
ohhh brother… that soooooocialist health care system
sure is gunna make our lives rough, eh?
