Ben Oswald, instigator-in-chief for the eponymous soccer fields, says that the club wasn’t adequately included in the decision-making process which led to the school district granting approval for the dog park. Dog Club president Laura Pintane disputes the point, noting that nobody from the soccer club commented on dog club presentations before the school district or the city council.

Kept awake at night by visions of vandals joyriding across the soccer fields, Oswald saw the dog club’s request to keep the normally-gated parking lot open during daylight hours as problematic. The negotiated settlement between the two clubs involves a partial payment by the dog club for a chain-link fence to help protect the fields, the remainder to be paid by the soccer club.

While the soccer advocates wanted a fence anyway, they don’t appreciate the timing of the expense. “For a little club that is struggling financially, $3000 is not ‘mission impossible’, but it’s added stress that we don’t need right now,” Oswald said.

Oswald was initially skeptical of the need for the dog park at all, given the proximity of trails and other open space. He became more convinced of the project’s utility for the community after learning that the dog park will be used by the elderly and infirm who are looking to exercise their animals.

Concerns about barking and odor from dog feces were also largely assuaged by the dog club.

And there is one distinct upside for the soccer club. The dog park will protect a network of underground pipes that harvests irrigation water and drains it into a well used to water the soccer fields. The plastic pipes, known collectively as the “galleries,” are close to the surface of the ground and could be damaged by, for example, a vehicle driving across them. Now that the fencing for the dog park completely surrounds the galleries, this less of a concern for Oswald and Chaffee County United.

There may be a more personal upside for Oswald, too. For years he has had a vision of a state-of-the-art recreation center, hockey rink, trails network and additional playing fields situated on the school district property. He waxes poetically about the benefits which could accrue to the community. And he asserts that there is money available via a wide variety of funding sources, including innovative public-private partnerships.

It’s easy to envision people standing at the dog park looking out over the empty land adjacent to the soccer fields, wondering aloud why a recreation center isn’t sitting there.

But any new community support for a recreation complex may already be too late for Oswald. Among other options, he is contemplating a coaching position in Panama. If he takes it, he isn’t sure when, or if, he might return.

Oswald and Pintane not only get along, they share in that camaraderie common to people who work long hours for little or no pay for a vision they believe in deeply. And in the end, Oswald is philosophical about the new dog park. “I believe if you do the right thing for the right thing’s sake, other good things will happen.”

That is something that Pintane, and the rest of the dog club, would heartily agree with.

Left-Right: Ann Ewing, Laura Pintane, Judy Lore, Sherri Schoffstall, Debbie Gaj, Karen Lemmerman, Lisa Marvel, Jan Schmidt, and Lori Hardin; not shown are RJ Hardin and Terry Pintane

Geese and goslings at Franz Lake

Meanwhile at Sands Lake, Debbie and Lisa, two intrepid club members, were chased by a cranky, aggressive goose who wasn’t impressed with their well-meaning intentions. Though startled, the girls managed to survive the confrontation with a sprightly detour around the ornery bird. If you plan to venture into this area, beware of the temperamental goose on the loose.

Refuse collected by the dog club

Planning to take pictures of said trash for this article, I grabbed my camera and my dog for a walk around Franz Lake. Lo and behold, I am happy to say that it was difficult for me to find any trash to photograph. Aside from a lonely coffee cup cover, a glass bottle, and a piece of stryofoam bobbing in the water, the place was pretty clean. If trash pick up was our only goal, we’d be done and ready for lunch in fifteen minutes.

But alas, the dog waste problem is much more prevalent. (I will spare you any photos of that.) Are dog owners reluctant to pick up because we forget to bring bags for that purpose, are absent minded enough we don’t notice our dogs are doing it, or just plain unconcerned about the health and enjoyment of others? I realize there are no trash containers or bags provided, which would certainly make the task easier, but that does not absolve us of our responsibilities.

If dog owners want a voice in the plans of the city and county, if we want to be welcomed in new parks or other recreational activities as they become available, or if we just want to continue to be allowed in state and county public areas, we need to be responsible. I am talking to all of us! As disgusting and unfair as it may seem to pick up waste because of others’ thoughtlessness, it may be necessary to do so. With enough complaints about noncompliance, all of us dog walkers could be banned from using public land. It was for that very reason that Salida passed the law years ago banning all dogs from city parks.

So let’s make the best of a bad situation. This clean up event will be a fun way to do a good deed, let the community know that we are responsible citizens, get to know fellow dogs lovers, and learn more about the Salida Dog Club. If you are interested in participating, please contact Ann at 539-3676 or Laura at 539-2503 by Thursday, April 23rd.  We ask you bring a dish to share — tell Ann or Laura what you are planning on — and your own table service. Hope to see you there!

Sally at rest

Unfortunately, even the best of dreams sometimes has a rude awakening, and by early 2006, my life took a series of unpredictable turns. I found myself divorced, relocated to a rental house, worried about my ill mother halfway across the country, and suddenly dogless. And to me “doglessness” is true loneliness. So the obvious solution was a call to Ark Valley Humane Society. I decided I wanted a small to medium sized dog, one that would be an easy but eager travel companion for the road trips I had already decided were in my future. I was told they had a new surrender named Sally that might fit the bill, so I jumped in my car and made the trip to the shelter.

I honestly can’t say that it was love at first sight, especially on Sally’s part. She seemed distracted, hyperactive, and very nervous. Sal was labelled by the shelter staff as a “Speagle”, a mix of some type of spaniel and  beagle. She had a glossy black and white coat, was approximately three years old, twenty-five pounds, and appeared to have had a litter of pups sometimes in her past. I took her on a walk to get acquainted away from the bustle of the shelter, and the strong pull on the end of the leash from such a small creature was surprising. All my previous dogs had been purebreds (on the insistence of my husband) and much larger. As I watched her straining forward to sniff the path ahead of us, I chuckled at the way she waddled on skinny little stick legs. They made quite a contrast to her rather stocky hound body. This was no fluffy lap dog, for sure.  The feeling grew that I had found my new companion. On our first evening together, Sal seemed certain that, despite the comfortable doggie bed I had purchased at Walmart, her place was under the covers, where she could thoroughly lick my feet before settling down for the night. I didn’t have the heart or desire to correct her. All I knew was that my world no longer lonely.

Life with Sal was an adventure from the start. I soon learned that she was a runner.  Any opportunity of an open door, a swinging gate, and she was gone. I got plenty of exercise those first few weeks dashing after her, and then carrying her surprisingly heavy little body  back home in my arms. I finally learned to have leashes accessible at all the exits, as well as being very careful with open doors. She also needed some housebreaking work, could be aggressive towards other dogs, and exhibited food guarding behaviors. So she had “issues”. Don’t we all? Events in her background that I will never know probably contributed to her behavior. To me she was nothing but loving. She was sometimes too affectionate, squirming in my lap and licking my face whenever I sat down. And my raised voice was enough to flatten her on the ground. The look on her face was so pitiful I soon learned to be gentle in corrections. Obviously in her past yelling was associated with some pretty scary punishment.

We had barely gotten to know each other and settle into a routine when I got the news that my mom’s health was failing fast. I learned this on Easter Sunday, and by that evening had a flight booked  for the very next day. But what to do with Sally? I had an ingrained fear of boarding kennels, having lost a young Great Pyrenees to heat stroke while being boarded.  But I had no other options. I called Wag-N-Tails and luckily they were able to take her on such short notice. And I have to say, their care of her as well concern for my situation made me a convert.

Two weeks later I arrived back in Colorado. I was a changed woman, a middle-aged orphan, still absorbing the experiences of the final vigil with my sisters, the funeral, and all the necessary paperwork afterwards. I felt truly alone once again. As I drove home from the airport, my thoughts turned to Sal. I had kept in touch with the kennel during my time away, but couldn’t shake the feeling that the sudden change in her life so soon after I had adopted her would affect our relationship. I needn’t have worried. She exuberantly threw herself at me when I arrived at the kennel, and her cuddling and foot licking at bedtime gave me the comfort I needed. I truly believe her presence in my life at that point — the need for walks, feedings, grooming, petting– are what kept me focused and able to move on. I saved Sal by adopting her and she more than returned the favor.

By summer we hit the road for the first of many amazing and hilarious adventures… more on those in future postings.

“But I can’t keep him, Susie. It wouldn’t be fair. He’d be alone all day while my husband and I teach. By the way, you can’t bring him into the school – you know the principal is not an animal lover.”

“I checked. The principal isn’t here and won’t be back today. You have to have him. Or one of the others. You need a dog.” (The profound and simple logic of a fourteen year old.) “Isn’t he adorable? His name is Chuck.”

“As in Charlie”Chuck” Brown of Peanuts fame? If I could add another plus to your A+, Susie Brown, I would. For cleverness in the naming of dogs!”

I didn’t need a dog; I wanted a dog and Susie knew – she was an old soul parading as a teenager.

“Ok, I’ll check with my husband and get back to you.”

“So are you coming today or tomorrow to look at the other twelve puppies?” She wasn’t about to drop it. She had a strong hope for me to have a furry friend and for it to be one of hers. Preferably Chuck, I figured.

With thirteen adorable puppies tumbling around on the Brown’s kitchen floor the next day I did indeed pick “Chuck.” I can’t say why. He’d need a name change, but as time eventually proved, Susie chose the right pup for me. They were all gorgeous, the progeny of the school house dog, Rusty, a tri-color farm collie who followed Susie to school each day and played with all the kids at recess, and Cinnamon, a reddish golden retriever allowed to also roam the village.

This was the early 70s – way before the buzz words of spaying and neutering, pet over-population, and “no-kill” shelters. This was the culture of free-roaming dogs, especially in the small coal mining village in central PA where I taught in a 1920s vintage red brick K-8 schoolhouse that overlooked the “boney” piles of slag wastes from the nearby coal mine. This was the time of kids bringing in big fat black snakes they found in the polluted ponds at the foot of these boney piles to scare the young new teacher and when they listened when you told them to return said creature to its home immediately or sooner. A different time. Susie was an anomaly in this environment; she had lofty dreams and plans for her future. She was special and “Chuck” became special. 

My husband consulted the best source for pet names: his vast collection of rock albums. We settled on Rudy the V from some obscure song on an even more obscure album. We dropped the pretentious V. Rudy became the dog who accompanied us on our first trips to the western U. S. He was with us as we fell in love with this valley. Each time we returned, we seemed to have added another dog to the “family.” Rudy had so many adventures I could write a short book about just him. He was the first in a line of nine canines to simultaneously wreak havoc and bring joy to our lives. He was that never again first love.

Oh, and Susie Brown – the She-Who-Knew I did need a dog? She was killed in a traffic accident on her way to work at the Washington, D.C. offices of National Geographic where she was working towards that lofty dream of becoming a photojournalist. She was only in her mid-twenties. So smart, so wise and so very, very young. I think of her and wonder how it might have been. I think of her and thank her for my Rudy.