2019-08-30 Meanwhile, Ten Years Later...

Ashland, VA
(37.708134, -77.436275)
(library.workers.elimination)

The late Shelby, The present Buddy

It's been about ten years since I last updated this blog.

It seems fitting to use a photo to bookend what I looked like when I wrote the last one and what I kind of look like today. 

That's likely the last photo of Shelby and I together, and the first of Buddy, who helped open the newest chapter of my life.

We'll get back to Buddy and the Good Dogs after paying tribute to the wonderful Polly, who graced my life with her presence during her third act and in those missing years, ending on the exact same day as the results of the last Presidential election.

Polly on the beach

Polly especially loved kids

Polly came to me by way of a friend who had her in conditions I considered less than optimal, so I provided Polly with options, like taking her out to parks and such, and bringing her home with me in increasingly-longer visits.

In the fullness of time, she became "my" dog, until the end.

That doesn't fully account for the missing ten years, but it squares the dog logs.

Those logs remained empty through 2018, as I considered the obvious question so often asked.

It was not grief so much as - and I don't like admitting this - medical costs preventing another dog right away.

The last four dogs I have seen through to the end brought unquantifiable joy and fullness to my life. But in the end, cost thousands of dollars in Vet costs, and always dying anyway. At the time I would literally pay anything for another minute of their lives, even wrestling with the complicated issues.

The operational run rate is also non-trivial. Polly had a boatload of issues, one of which involved her only being able to eat prescription-grade kibble costing more than steak. And insulin for her Diabetes. She was kind of a wreck, come to think of it. Also blind from cataracts. I know the joke: "answers to Lucky". Still.

Yoda

Oh, and possibly deaf too. But other than that, she loved life. I think.

Still, no cost is too great for the many things dogs bring to the game.

I got to thinking how could I have dogs without the expense? 

Well the answer was right next door in the form of Yoda.

My hard-working neighbors have crazy schedules and this little scruffy guy who would likely love to be walked and I just happened to need to take one myself, so why not?

And so it began.

Turns out he did love it. Still does. As often as possible. Plus, as a stroke of luck and kindness, Yoda's pack expanded by one. The. Exact. Same. Size.

Yup. Here's the first photo and FaceBook post.

Zoe's Story

A legit effort was made to locate anyone looking for her to no avail. No chip either when checked out by the Vet.

Now it's a pack, which I collectively identify as "Zoda". I hook up Zoda daily and promptly get dragged around by two tiny but shockingly powerful pups. 

But that was not enough. Needed more dog than that. Without the cost... hmmm... foster?

Another friend of the family has fostered a number of dogs from the Richmond Animal League, including Buddy, a sweet senior doggo.
Buddy came to my friend as another foster but his charm was too much and so became family instead.

Buddy

I became Stay-care for Buddy when my friend needed to leave him behind for a week while she traveled. It was great. He was a terrific guest, polite as all get-out, unassuming and content, just add some nugs and hugs.

The front desk at the resort took notice of my increased dog walking activity and told me people sometimes asked for dog walking services.

And the light went on. It checks off the boxes:

1. Dogs
2. Exercise
3. Being needed

It's personal. Not business.

It is not without irony a T-shirt given to me about 25 years ago, and never wore, became the inspiration for my new operation:

Yep. You can call me "Don Jon".

It was not long before the calls started coming in. That was about May. 

By the end of the Summer I hit Peak Doggage. While I have regulars M-F, one day I walked 17 dogs in the same day, plus had a sleepover. Harley. He stays a lot.

The Summer of 2019 went to the Dogs for me, in the Best Way Possible.

2008-03-15 Shelby's Story

Dateline, Mt. Sterling, KY
Longitude: -83.94502
Latitude: 38.06882

While I am ensconced in the country and not technically traveling, I plan to fill in some background information. There's no better place to begin than telling the story of how Shelby came to be with me.

It was around the end of April of 1996, while I was living in Newport Beach, CA.

While I have told this story a thousand times, in this permanent version I will clarify an important point: I was not actually present when the crisis began, but the details to follow emerged over the next few days and have ridden for the past thirteen years in my memory.

Those who were there relayed to me that someone apparently threw Shelby out of a car or truck, then ran over her, severing her right foreleg. My neighbor Jim, a commercial airline pilot, was the who found her in the street bleeding and in shock.

He bundled her up in a clean towel and took her to the same Vet we used for Milo just a few blocks from the house.

I had been out of town when this all happened but I returned later that night and heard the tragic story.

The next day I went over to the Vet to meet this little puppy, who had instantly become the darling of the pet hospital. When she was brought out, it was love at first site. She squirmed from Vet assistant's arms and made for mine. I practically heard her say "Can I come home with you, Mister?"

The next thing you know, I am the proud owner of one and 3/4 dogs.

My main dog Milo, who was about a year old at the time, immediately took her in and made her welcome. He never stopped that in his whole life. Milo will get his own background story here later.

Shelby was probably about six weeks old when she came to us. The photos in this post were taken with a Canon digital camera I had just bought (and later returned) and are the first images captured of Shelby, but far from the last.

Right from the onset, Shelby was a good puppy. She quickly learned her lessons, and soon after pretty much had us wrapped around her paw.

Milo shared everything: toys, food, water, cookies and especially nap time, never once in his whole life ever snapping at her. He loved his job of being big brother, protector and doggy mentor, and did it with his gentle stoicism and patience.

Within a year or so I made the decision to send them both out to a 6-week training camp. It was rough. I desperately missed them and could not visit.

When they were returned, the trainer demonstrated how well they had learned their lessons. They stayed. They sat on command. They healed. They came when called. And they forgot just about everything the instant the trainer drove off.

Milo continued to remember his lessons but Shelby, not so much. To this day she still doesn't come when called and she will only sit or lay down if bacon is involved. Some have said I never broke her spirit. I never even dented it.

Neither dog was ever struck in anger or for discipline. Shelby has zero flinching instinct. She is as unaware of being hit as she is driving a car. And while I gave her the opportunity to forget her formal lessons, I never stopped doing the thinking for her. This accounts for why she is on-leash in nearly every photo in her collection. I think she actually likes it. Even when she stops suddenly and the collar slips off her neck, she comes to a dead stop and waits for me to put it back on.

I think we both feel more comfortable leashed together and I try to let her have some dog time every day.

Mr. Steinbeck wrote in Travels With Charley that Charley was the only dog he ever knew who could talk. Due to a slight misalignment of his teeth, Charley could say "Ftt". Mr. Steinbeck took that to mean that Charley was ready to do his business.

Well, Shelby can't talk, but she sure talks back. The nearest she gets to talking is this pattern that sort of sounds like she is saying "no, you". Shelby, sit. No, you.

I have worked with her on this in hopes of getting on the Stupid Pet Tricks segment of the David Letterman show but she doesn't want to go to New York City, even on a TV network's expense account. Can't blame her for that.

Shelby tends to come to life around 11pm local time pretty much every day. This is the time she likes to play, and she will bark at me until I relent. This usually doesn't take long, as there is no shutting her up. She may be part Labrador but she may have not inherited the Retriever bit. She will fetch what is thrown and only gives it up if it looks to her like play time is over.

Shelby's missing leg has been the source of thousands of comments and questions throughout the years as she has traveled all across the country, coming into contact with people of all shapes, sizes and ages.

Depending on my mood, the person asking, and various other circumstances, my response to "what happened to her leg?" comes from the following repertoire:

• "It was part of a bitter divorce settlement." I only use this on adults and older kids when I think they can appreciate the humor. Saying this with a completely straight face really throws people off, and only about 2 out of 5 laugh right off the bat.


• "She didn't eat her vegetables." Reserved exclusively for the under 5 year old set. This always cracks up the parent units and leaves Grandparents laughing and thanking me.


• "Beach/River/Creek Shark bit her." Used when near a body of water and gullible people.

More often than not, however, I just give the condensed version of the story told above. Everyone always says how sad it is and I usually point out that "their bad Karma is my good Dogma", and we all agree that she gets along just fine. I almost always observe that she does everything any other dog can do, just does not corner well at high speeds.

And she really does. Digs. Climbs. Jumps. Runs. She's not fond of swimming and I don't force the issue, but she loves getting wet like most Labs.

As to her actual heritage, well we don't know. There are black spots on her tongue which I am told is characteristic of Labs. She is clearly a mix, but the other ingredients are debatable.

But the best part of Shelby is her heart. She is simply the most gentle, loving, friendly dog I have ever known. I warn people she is a trained kisser when they put their face within striking distance and she rarely disappoints. Like a Cobra she strikes, tongue-first. Anyone within a 24 inch radius is going to get licked.

She loves babies. Old people. People of every color and income bracket. And she treats them all the same, expecting that everyone likes her as much as she immediately likes them. This is only problematic with people who are deathly afraid of dogs in general and Shelby gets it in her mind that she wants to meet them. So I am forced to restrain her in respect of their fears.

As near as we can figure, and not without irony, she was born on this day in 1996. I didn't realize that it was her birthday until just now. She's Thirteen today.

Since every day she is treated like it's her birthday, this will likely go unmarked. But I am very happy to have had her this long and to report that she is in excellent health and even better spirits.

Reaching the end of our shared attention span, if I still have you at all, the final point I will make here is that Shelby was named by my daughter Brynne. I'm pretty sure she's named (Shelby, not Brynne) after some character in a schmaltzy chick-flick from that time, possibly even Julia Roberts, who will help this blog show up in more Google searches now.