Hattie, R.I.P.

A wonderful creature, Manhattan, known to all her friends as Hattie, a white Greyhound with tan markings, crossed the Rainbow Bridge on Wednesday, October 2. I first met Hattie in the Spring of 2008 the day I met Marilyn and her pack to walk our dogs in a park close to my home. Marilyn's dogs were Franklin, Ruby and Hattie. My dogs were Portia and Bingley. Bingley is the only survivor of that group. Like most of Marilyn's dogs, Hattie was a dog who had had difficulty finding a forever home. She suffered from an auto-immune disorder that made her a little "touchy" and cranky. She required special care, both medically and emotionally. And she was most fortunate that she found Marilyn, one of the best humans in the world for being able and willing to offer that care. Both canine and human health issues have created a long hiatus in Marilyn's and my weekly walks in the park. I am reminded of the line from Emily Dickinson: To make routine a stimulus, remember it can cease. Farewell, dear Hattie. May you run and play free of pain in the meadows beyond the Rainbow Bridge.

Beware Of Retractable Leashes!

For a long time, I have loathed retractable leashes. Walking two sight hounds who weigh eighty-one and seventy-eight pounds respectively, I must maintain control of my dogs at all times. I use four foot, reinforced velvet leashes with adjustable loops to wrap around my wrist. Any moving object will get my dogs' attention, and if I am not alert, I will be pulled along by two running machines that can reach forty-five miles per hour in a few strides. A sight I dread is a small dog being walked on a retractable leash. A small animal, dashing about erratically, is the most tantalizing prey for Bingley and Magic. Trying to control them under such circumstances is challenging, and, if I fail, serious injury can result. And I am not speaking only of the little dog. A friend of mine recently told me her story which illustrates a quite different, but equally serious, danger of retractable leashes. My friend is a tall, large-bone lady who is perfectly comfortable riding very large horses and jumping them over hurdles. She is at ease around both horses and dogs, and for years has always had an Australian Shepherd as her canine companion. Her Aussies are beautifully trained and well behaved. Recently, my friend was taking a walk with her sister and her dog. They were in the country-side, following along a gravel road. To give the Aussie a sense of freedom, my friend had her on a retractable leash let out to eighteen feet. What happened next is the intersection of innate dog behavior with physics. The Aussie saw a squirrel before my friend did. My friend does remember being lifted up in the air. Mercifully, she cannot remember the following seconds--or minutes. She came to her senses after having been dragged down the gravel road, her face, arms and one hand bleeding profusely. With help of her sister and husband, she was able to get to an emergency room for treatment. But the healing has been slow and painful. She will be consulting a plastic surgeon. If you are using a retractable leash, I hope I have frightened you.

Catching Up

Sorry for the blogging hiatus. I've been recovering from cataract surgery, which went well, but I'm having to teach my brain how to use the spiffy, high tech lenses that are the replacements for my old, crusty lenses. Today I resumed my early morning dog walking. I can't say that I leap out of bed, brimming with enthusiasm and energy. But Bingley and Magic do. And I would have to be a totally different person from who I am if I could resist their eager expectation of a morning walk. John has been walking them while my eye healed, so they didn't go without their favorite treat. But this morning, I was back on the job. It's strange, but getting up at 5am and going out to walk all by myself is something that I would not contemplate. But with a dog or two, it's a wonderful way to start the day. And now that the season has turned, it's dark and the stars are still out and if there is a moon, it's still shining. It's all there when I open the front door and I think of Adam and Eve's duet from Hayden's Creation. On a different topic, I realized this morning that I had just missed Bingley's rescue date. It must have been October 9,10, or 11 2007. I'm guessing because he received his first inoculations on October 12. He was rescued just in time, just before he and his two surviving pals would have succumbed to starvation like the two dead dogs in the hauler, and just before the start of wildfires that would have made the rescue impossible. Indeed, he had barely been settled into the Greyhound Adoption Center's kennel when all the dogs had to be evacuated to a safer place because of the fires. So. Belated Happy Rescue Day, Bingley! Thank you to GAC for the tireless work they do, saving displaced Greyhounds and Greyhound mixes. We wouldn't have wanted to miss the joy of having Bingley in our lives.

Welcome Sophie

In the month since Marilyn and I walked our Greyhounds in the park, we have had a major change. Wonderful Franklin crossed the Rainbow Bridge. He can never be replaced. But there are always Greyhounds in need, and Marilyn has provided a home for an older female whom she has named Sophie. In the last 18 months, Sophie has lost two homes: one because of the economy and the second because of the terminal illness of her human. Sophie will be eleven in October. I was expecting to meet a docile old gal, just grateful for having been given a secure place to live out her days. Was I in for a surprise! Sophie has declared herself Leader of the Pack. And both Hattie and Odie have deferred to her. She was clearly sizing up Bingley and Magic with an eye to bossing them, too. What amazing spirit! I look forward to all of our future walks with Sophie, Hattie and Odie. Bingley, of course, will accept Sophie with his sweet, easy going attitude, but will also let her know his limits. Magic is another story. She is a Princess. But Sophie is a Queen. We shall see how that works out.

Franklin, R.I.P.

Today is a day of mourning in our household. A great dog and good friend of Bingley and Magic has crossed the Rainbow Bridge. Franklin was the senior member of our walking group. Marilyn adopted him when he was a fifteen month old stray, covered with mange. She loved him and nursed him back to health. His mange-covered body was replaced by a beautiful red-tan coat. He turned eleven years old in February and tomorrow would have marked the tenth anniversary of his adoption. Franklin was a Greyhound mix--with what breed, it's hard to say. But he loved "passing" as a Greyhound, and until he became too ill, he was the star of Show and Tells. In spite of arthritis, Franklin loved his walks and was a real trouper right up to the end. But cancer of the liver put him into a steep decline over the past few days, and so Marilyn, Jerry and Josh, those who loved him best in the world, made the heartbreaking decision this morning and were with him at the end. Franklin is now free of pain, frolicking with Ariel, Ruby and Portia. We will miss you, Franklin. Deepest condolences to Marilyn, Jerry and Josh.

When Will They Ever Learn?

Our daughter lives in a pretty residential area of a city in another Western state. She has a Yellow Lab, Georgia, whom she walks regularly. Yesterday, they encountered an off-leash Golden Retriever. What seemed to be an uneventful doggie meet and greet ended when the Retriever attacked Georgia. The Retriever's owner was shocked and distressed and has paid the vet bills. But we have a traumatized dog and human who will never again feel quite safe on their walks.

I hope that the Retriever's owner has learned NEVER to let her dog off leash unless she is in a dedicated off leash area.

I hope.

Unbelievable!

Today, slate.com has an article on The Crisis in American Walking! I. Kid. You. Not. (I would love to give you a hot link to the article, but I continue to have technical problems with hot links in text.)

So now, we will be deluged with nannies pushing us to get out and walk. Well. Nearly every morning, I get up between 5 and 5:30 am and take Bingley and Magic for a walk. Our route goes up a rather steep hill. Tomorrow, being Wednesday, Bingley, Magic, and I will meet Marilyn, Franklin, Hattie and Odie at a park and walk around for about an hour.

There are some pretty impressive studies that confirm that people who walk dogs are more likely to stick with their walking regimen than people who walk alone or with a human companion.

If this doesn't make sense to you, you've never gotten into a routine of dog walking. A friend of mine wanted to know how I managed to be so faithful in my walking of Bingley and Magic. Simple, I told her. Walk your dog three days in a row at the same time of day. (Actually, she could do with two days in a row. Her dog is an Aussie, and herding breeds are notoriously brilliant) That's all you have to do. The dog will take it from there. And unless you have a heart of stone, you will not be able to resist the bright, expectant eyes, the wagging tail, and, perhaps, the persistent following of your every step. No matter how busy or tired you are, it will be easier to get on your walking shoes, leash up the dog, and go for a walk.

I promise.