The book is fascinating in so many ways. It is not intended to be an in-depth study; any of the chapters could be expanded to book length. Rather it is an overview of how American society (69 million households have one or more pets and spend $40 billion annually on pet care, food, etc.) has elevated pets, particularly dogs, to new heights. The book is Schaffer’s attempt to explain the hugely profitable, big spending 21^st century world of American dog culture and how we got to this point. The book is only 257 pages and could easily have been twice that. Let me cite a few chapter titles that might pique your reading interest. Man’s Best Friendster. (Yes, each of my four dogs has his/her own webpage on Dogster.com.) Hip Replacement and Health Plans (Yes, one of my four has had a hip replacement that set us back financially. If I am ever seriously ill, I wish to be sent to that same pet hospital, thank you very much. Their care was phenomenal.) Legal Beagles (What is your dog worth in a court of law?) Toy Town (Who knew Kongs were accidentally invented by a Coloradan whose dog loved a particular VW suspension part given him to chew on?) The $100,000 a Year Dog Walker? (I obviously was in the wrong profession.) From Alpo to Omega-3 Fatty Acids (I’m still confused after three decades about what constitutes a good dog food. The war of the raw food vs commercial foods wages on.) It Takes a Village to Raise a Puppy (Sue Sternberg, the guru of dog temperament testing, turns her efforts to substituting dog pulls for dog fighting to combat cruelties around the country.) The American Way of Pet Death (I could have used a pet bereavement group back in 1985 when Rudy passed on.) Has anything snagged your interest? There is so much packed into this book: tidbits of information I’ve not encountered elsewhere and I’ve read a lot of dog books.

This is not a Marley & Me kind of book. You won’t read much about Schaffer’s own pets. There are no personal marriage, children and relationship issues here. It is a well-researched book that is edifying and entertaining for dog lovers, a must read to keep up with the new ways Americans (and some other countries that are playing catch-up) treat and regard their dogs. Those of us who occasionally pamper our dogs, have standing appointments for grooming, never leave home without the dog(s), schedule play dates, research alternative medical treatments, have our vet’s number on speed dial, research to keep up with the best in diets for our dogs, and walk these furry ones in the worst of weather will appreciate Schaffer’s balanced approach to showing us how we relate to our dogs in 2009. So read about Jade the Rottweiler, Ben the Beagle, and Murphy the Saint Bernard and know you and your dogs are in exceptionally, if not a bit zany, good company.

Check out more about Michael Schaffer. It’s got some interesting links and other writings by this entertaining columnist.

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.