Monthly Archives: August 2017

Fostering

This past weekend, I was enjoying the (relative) silence in my house.  My daughter and my last foster dog, Charley Girl, both left last Monday – my daughter to WVU for her last semester, Charley to her new home in Riverdale in the Bronx.  Since I moved back into my house in late March, I’ve been making up for lost time and fostering pretty much non-stop, one pup after another.

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Charley making friends with Aunt Sue

First it was Marco, an adorable but painfully shy “dorkie” (a silly name for a dachshund/yorkie mix).  At first he hid behind my couch any time someone came in, and he actually nipped my sister, but he eventually got more comfortable around strangers.  He also had never in his life been walked outside on a leash, so he had some housebreaking issues.  I even published some photos and video of him on Facebook so others could follow his progress.

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Marco

[An aside:  Frankly, I am not a very good trainer, despite the revolving cast of pooches over the past few years and time spent at the shelter observing how OTHER people train dogs.  I’m not consistent enough.  I learned this long ago with my dog Loki.  Even after paying money we didn’t have to a professional trainer (who reminded me of a young Phil Simms), I was unable to sustain the lessons Loki learned after the trainer was no longer around.  My dog Munchie, who we adopted back in October of 2010, right after my mother passed away, still does not come when called, which often turns into a battle of wills on those mornings when I neglect to close my bedroom door and he scoots under the bed and refuses to come out for walkies.]

We brought Marco to an Adopta-palooza event in Union Square in NYC, where we met a lovely family from Brooklyn who had come in specially to meet him.  The two kids were absolutely smitten, and the precious photos they sent me afterward made me glad that Marco had chosen them as his new family.

After Marco left, it wasn’t long before Wilson came into our lives.  Wilson was found wandering the streets of Bay Shore, a town in Suffolk where Posh Pets has a new “satellite site” (a house owned by Posh Pets shelter director and second-in-command Melissa).  Evidently he was having his way with the ladies in the neighborhood and had knocked up one of the local gals, and no one had any idea where he came from or who he belonged to:  no collar, no microchip, but fully intact in his maleness, if you know what I mean.  After a diligent but fruitless search, Mel decided she would just take him in and make him “posh” so he could be safe and his days as a “deadbeat dad” lothario would end.

Wilson and my daughter (who had just arrived home for the summer) developed a serious connection.  When a couple living in Long Beach fell in love and adopted him in short order, my daughter was FURIOUS at me for taking him to their house without her having a chance to say goodbye.  I offered to take her over there – they live only a few blocks away – so she could see him one last time, but she didn’t want to.  It turned out to not be the last we saw of him, though, because I told the couple I would dog sit if they ever went away (and I even volunteered my daughter to walk him, if they wanted).

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Wilson, literally underfoot

Sure enough, they took me up on my offer for a few days at the same time that Charley was here, which put me at maximum capacity of nine four-legged creatures plus two humans (four dogs, five cats).  It was a little hairy in the beginning, because Charley and Wilson DID NOT LIKE EACH OTHER and engaged in a couple of scary scraps.  We had to lock Charley away in my room for the first day.  We briefly considered bringing her back to the shelter, because we’d only had her for a couple of days and it had really been only a trial run, because Charley was a very high energy doggie who my daughter actually warned me against taking home.  But we figured it was better being locked in a bedroom with a big comfy bed than being at the shelter, with barking dogs and cement floors and cages, and after some tentative tête-à-têtes, the two became good buddies for the five days Wilson (now called Trey, short for “Sammy the Third”) was with us.  Plus my daughter got to say her official goodbyes.

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Charley and Wilson, finally buds

Between Wilson and Charley we had Baby Bella (in fact, Bella and Wilson were together for one remarkably calm night), a beautiful little Yorkie who was only with us for about a week before she was snatched up by a family from Connecticut.  They were smitten at first sight and I’m confident they’ll treat that sweetie like a queen.

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Bella (top) and Wilson (bottom)

That’s the thing about fostering:  People always ask me, “How can you give them up?  Doesn’t it break your heart?”  Actually, it doesn’t, because I believe they’re going to good homes where they will be loved.  I mean, there’s no guarantee – the folks at Posh Pets, who do a painstaking job of checking references and analyzing situations to find the best fit for their wards, still have animals returned to them, unfortunately.  But my sense, with every adopter of one of my fosters, is that they were going to a place where they would be loved and doted on and valued as a member of a family, which is all you ever want for an orphaned or abandoned animal.  The bonus is that every foster baby that gets adopted leaves an “opening” for me to take on another one.

Of course, I did fail once, with my precious nut-job Gizmo.  And I may very well fail again.  Yesterday, when I thought I might be foster free for a little while, finally able to give my guys a break from having to share my attention, Linda, Posh Pets’ founder and queen, called to ask if I could take on a special case:  little Polly, a female Shih-Tzu, about 6 or 7 years old, who had been adopted by a young woman from Linda years ago but who now was moving to California and couldn’t take Polly with her.  Then Linda thought she might have found an adoptive family, but they ended up keeping Polly for only one night before deciding she was more than they could handle.

Polly, you see, has some kind of neurological damage that makes it difficult for her to walk, although she does manage to do so, even though she looks a bit like a drunken sailor.  I’ve taken to calling her Polly Wobbles.  She’s very sweet but very confused, as you might imagine after being torn from the home (and thoroughly undeserving parent, if I may be a bit judgy) she has known for over five years.  She wouldn’t walk when we went out with the boys, which forced me to carry her, and when I brought her out separately, she didn’t walk then, either.  Linda assures me that she does walk; I haven’t seen it since she’s been here, but time will tell.

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Polly Wobbles (that face!)

I worry about who will adopt Polly.  There’s a couple we know, good friends of Posh Pets named Tom and Mary, who take on “special needs dogs” (including Little Miss Lexi, who is the most adorable little angel on wheels and has her own Facebook page), but they’re chock full at the moment.  I told Linda anyone who adopts her has to be very special, but she already knows that.  Which makes me think that Polly Wobbles might be here for a while.  But that’s okay with me, and Gizmo and Munchie (and even the cats) seem to like her okay.  Polly is my 12th foster dog (and 13th foster overall, if you count this precious kitten named Egypt who we had only long enough to give us all ringworm a couple of summers ago), so I guess I qualify as “experienced” now!  Keep ‘em coming!

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Randomicity

Perhaps it’s the laziness borne of summer, or an overload of bad news on the political front, or even my daughter’s invasion of my physical and mental space these past few months.  But whatever the cause, I haven’t been able to string together sufficient cohesive paragraphs to produce a blog post since my last missive (which was a reflexive diatribe brought on by the aforementioned overload of bad news on the political front).  Regretfully, I haven’t been writing much in my journal – in fact, in a highly unusual circumstance for me, I’ve gone days without writing anything at all or, at most, a sentence saying how little I’ve been writing.

But occasionally I will have what I’ve been calling “common sense ideas,” which may ultimately end up turning into blog posts if I’m able to muster the sustained brain power.  For example, I think every publicly held company should include in every employee’s compensation package a share or number of shares of stock in the company, so employees become shareholders and literally have a vested interest in seeing their company succeed.  Those employees would care more about their jobs because the better they do, the better the company does, in a potentially endless cycle of success.

Another thought stream I’ve been entertaining (but I lack the capacity to get deep enough to write 500-1,000 words about it) is how I would fix the health care system in this country.  First, it should be mandated that all hospitals and all doctors have to take all insurances.  Second, all insurances should work the same way – same claims process, same reimbursement process, same referral process, etc.  This will cut down enormously on the administrative burden.  Third, the government should mandate that insurance companies cannot raise their rates every year, or ensure that any increases be linked to something like interest rates or cost-of-living.  Finally, as the process becomes more streamlined and the overhead and premium costs go down, then there would be no reason why larger employers couldn’t afford to insure even part-timers and the 30-hour minimum could be eliminated.

Here’s yet another recurring theme I keep returning to, in my head and my journal:  I don’t understand what the Republicans think will happen to the poor and the sick and the disabled and the elderly if they succeed in making Medicaid go away or cutting welfare and food stamps and school lunches, or when there’s no more funding for Section 8 public housing or public education.  (And of course, no abortions or contraception, so a ton of unwanted children adding to the already overburdened system.)  WHAT DO THEY THINK IS GOING TO HAPPEN TO ALL THESE PEOPLE IF THEIR LIFELINES ARE TAKEN AWAY??  If they thought the “great unwashed” were a burden before, what do they think they’ll be creating if Republicans are able to fulfill their dark and cruel desires?  Do they even care, as long as their own pockets are overflowing and they don’t have to actually SEE homeless or poor people?  It blows my mind.

And one more:  Elected representatives are supposed to do what their VOTERS want, not their DONORS.  Money for campaigns should be taken out of the equation entirely and people should be elected (or, more importantly, RE-elected) based on their record, not on how much money they’ve raised; on what they have DONE over what have they SAID (words are cheap, especially in the age of Trump).

* * *

So, those are some ways my mind has been wandering lately.  Which reminds me of the Beatles song, “I’m Fixing a Hole” (“to stop my mind from wandering / where it will go . . . “), which in turn reminds me of that post that was making its way around Facebook a few months ago about the 10 albums that most influenced you as a teenager.  A high school friend posted his list, and while I liked most of what he had included, my list would be ENTIRELY different even though it was from the same era.  My list of LPs on which I wore out the grooves in high school and early college is as follows (in no particular order):

  1. Bowie, “Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars”
  2. T. Rex, “Electric Warrior”
  3. Elton John, “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road”
  4. Leon Russell, “Carney” (one of the first albums I ever purchased with my own money, Elton John’s “Honky Chateau” being the other)
  5. Led Zeppelin, “Houses of the Holy”
  6. The Beatles, “White Album” (“Sgt. Pepper” was a close second, and I also loved “Rubber Soul”)
  7. “The Ramones”
  8. Jethro Tull, “Aqualung”
  9. Neil Young, “After the Gold Rush”
  10. Pink Floyd, “Wish You Were Here”

Honorable Mention:

Queen, “Night at the Opera” (although my favorite Queen song, and the one that was our “let’s get crazy tonight!” theme, was “Tie Your Mother Down”)

“Foreigner”

Fleetwood Mac, “Rumors”

Rolling Stones, “Hot Rocks”

* * *

Speaking of school, remember how every new unit in English and science and social studies would include a list of vocabulary words that would be featured in the unit, and the first assignment was to look them up and learn to use them?  Well, in all the brilliant political commentary I’ve been reading lately (Washington Post, NYT, New Yorker, The Atlantic, Vanity Fair, Esquire [I especially like Charlie Pierce, who seems to come up with all these obscure terms to describe the “vulgar talking yam” and his minions], to name a few), I’ve come across a list of words that were either new to me or I’d seen them before but wasn’t sure what they meant (sometimes I like to guess and then see how close I am to the actual definition).  Some of those words (and their definitions, thanks to the Merriam Webster.com dictionary) are as follows:

sophistry:  subtly deceptive reasoning or argumentation.

mandarins (not the oranges or the Chinese):  a pedantic official; a bureaucrat.

mountebank:  a person who sells quack medicines from a platform;  a boastful unscrupulous pretender.  (See also:  Trump, Donald)

anthropocene:  the period of time during which human activities have had an environmental impact on the Earth regarded as constituting a distinct geological age.  (An aside:  I actually came across the word “anthrocene” in a song by Nick Cave, which may be a made-up word or a bastardization of “anthropocene”.  Actually, the well-read Mr. Cave probably got it from the science writer Andrew Revkin, who used the term “anthrocene” in his book Global Warming: Understanding the Forecast to describe a new geological era dominated by the actions of humans.)

wry:  bent, twisted, or turned, usually abnormally to one side; made by a deliberate distortion of the facial muscles, often to express irony or mockery; wrongheaded; cleverly and often ironically or grimly humorous.

redoubtable:  causing fear or alarm; or, alternatively, worthy of respect.

mondegreen:  a word or phrase that results from a mishearing of something said or sung (e.g., “Hold me closer, Tony Danza”).

shebeen:  an unlicensed or illegally operated drinking establishment.

oleaginous:  I initially thought it meant oily, and I was right, but it also means marked by an offensively ingratiating manner or quality.  (See also:  Trump Cabinet meeting)

opéra bouffe:  satirical comic opera.

numinous:  filled with a sense of the presence of divinity; appealing to the higher emotions or to the aesthetic sense.

imperious:  befitting or characteristic of one of eminent rank or attainments; commanding, dominant, domineering; marked by arrogant assurance.

I now challenge myself to use at least one of my new vocabulary words in my next blog post!