28 August 2008

Dear Senator Obama,

Rumor has it you’ll be looking for a dog come fall. An animal-lover myself, I can think of no better way to reward your daughters’ hard work, enhance family life and (I believe in you with great hope!) celebrate your thrilling and historic move into 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue than adopting a canine companion. Your girls are sure to gain immensely from the experience. I envy their youth and all that is to come. I got my first dog at age six—a Scottish Terrier named Agatha. I have hardly a memory from childhood that doesn’t feature that feisty, hilarious, adorable little dog. I hope for your girls the same lasting animal love from whatever dog you choose … which brings me to my reason for this letter.

I saw that the American Kennel Club is holding a voting contest in helping you decide which dog would best suit your family, assuming you would be purchasing a dog from a breeder or pet store. I’m hoping you’ll consider—whichever breed you choose—adopting a shelter/rescue dog instead.

As Oprah recently uncovered in devastating detail, puppy mills and their incomprehensibly inhumane breeding practices are sadly thriving across the country. No matter what they tell you, it is near-impossible to purchase a puppy from a pet store that didn’t begin its life at one. If you haven’t seen that episode of Oprah (one of her most important shows yet), you should know it’s truly horrific what these animals endure. Yet still, people flock to pet stores, feeding money to the very businesses that support such intolerable and cruel standards. All of this while millions of dogs in shelters are euthanized every year because no one adopts them. It’s a vicious cycle, one that makes no logical sense whatsoever, but one that can be dramatically changed—even stopped—through one simple gesture: adopt dogs, don’t buy them from unknown breeders and stores. The show upset Oprah so much that she vowed her next dog will be a shelter dog.

I read that at least one of your daughters suffers from allergies. I understand that because of this your situation may feel unique in its demand for a particular “hypoallergenic” breed. However, by using resources, like Petfinder.com, you can locate specific breeds in any shelter nationwide, if that’s what you decide. (Many shelters, incidentally, have purebred dogs that started out in pet stores but have ended up unwanted in shelters once the reality of dog-owning set in.) Petfinder.com is an amazing resource—a place of inspiration and information. I found three of my four pets on Petfinder, not to mention an incredible community of animal advocates. I adopted my youngest dog, Safari, in February from a not-for-profit rescue organization called Pawtectors, which is run by two young vets-in-training during their almost non-existent spare time. These two women have rescued hundreds and hundreds of animals. It takes just a little more effort than popping into your local pet store, but the rewards are enormous! You not only save the lives of two animals (the one you’re adopting and the one that then moves into your animal’s vacated shelter space), but shelter animals (often mixed breeds) are healthier than purebreds, they’re often already trained (or on their way) and they never forget who saved them. Dogs have hopes, too. When you grant them theirs, you can see it in their eyes.

I know you have enough—and then some, and then some more, and….—on your plate right now. Worrying about what kind of dog your family will end up with isn’t—and shouldn’t be—even close to top priority. We need you in the Oval Office! But I do hope as your schedule allows, and as the promise of a family dog is a little closer to becoming a reality, that you’ll consider all of the benefits of adopting a shelter dog. And they really are all—only—benefits. To start, you might even consider making it possible for your daughters to visit with some shelter dogs while you’re on the campaign trail this summer and see how they (and their allergies) like them.

I know you will find the perfect dog for your family. But you don’t need the American Kennel Club’s help. You need only logic and love. Dog adoption is a decision you will feel good about every day, which I imagine isn’t something someone with your level of responsibility will be able to say about all of your decisions! This is truly the kind of change you can believe in.

Thank you so much for taking the time to consider this letter in the midst of all else. We all have our causes, I suppose. This is mine.

Have a wonderful summer—and best of luck in November! You have had (it was a tremendous honor to be part of your primary win here in Connecticut) and will have the enthusiastic support of my entire household—two dogs and two cats included—every last step of the way.

My deepest admiration and appreciation for all you have already done....

Hummingbird by Raymond Carver

Suppose I say summer,

write the word "hummingbird,"

put it in an envelope,

take it down the hill

to the box. When you open

my letter you will recall 

those days and how much,

just how much, I love you.

Hummingbirds in Your Backyard

Inspired by my uncle Stewart's incredible photos from mid-August Maine (and because I've had trouble attracting hummingbirds to my own backyard), I thought I'd share this informative article I found on the Humane Society's website, appropriately entitled, "Hummingbirds in Your Backyard." As you can see, Stewart brings his own creative method of attraction! 

Hay Really Is for Horses

Due to the rising cost of hay, horse sanctuaries, which have been taking in horses from those who can no longer afford to care for them, are now having trouble keeping up with the appetites of so many hungry, hungry horses. Please consider donating to the ASPCA's Emergency Hay Fund today.

Go Green (Be Kind to Kitty)

Also from the ASPCA's wonderful website, here's a list of flowers/plants that have been known to cause symptoms of various unwanted kinds in cats. Just something to keep in mind the next time you bring home something green.

Orange is the New Black

The ASPCA is offering free pet safety packs. Why not enter your information and send away for one? Aside from helpful emergency numbers, you'll receive a compact little sticker you can apply to any door/window of your home that will tell firefighters and emergency personnel the types of animals who live inside so they'll know who to look for. Don't be put off by the prospect of a decal. These are small, fetchingly geometric, and let's be honest: orange has been in for quite some time now.  

Pleasant Hope Isn't Always as It Sounds

On August 12th, over 360 animals were rescued from an animal hoarder living on a rural property in Pleasant Hope, Missouri. At the time of the rescue, Virginia Gambriel had over fifty dogs, fifty-one rabbits, over twenty-five cats, twenty ducks, twenty chickens, twenty-five hamsters, ten goats, six donkeys, one pig and more than one-hundred-and-fifty fish. Many of these animals were severely neglected, starving, diseased and injured. Not the life any animal should ever know or deserve. If you feel moved to help the Humane Society of Missouri with the enormous job of saving and rehabilitating these helpless, deserving guys, you can donate (and learn more about the animals you'd be helping) here.

Ever Wonder What It Looks Like from the Eyes of the Ball?

Absolute Animal

I promise I don't have any ties (familial or financial) to the vacuum cleaner company Dyson. Now that I've gotten that out of the way, I have to wildly praise Dyson's Absolute Animal for a moment. Specifically designed for households with pets, using this vacuum is like pushing a contained pet-hair tornado through your home - in the best possible interpretation of that description. I have two cats and two dogs so I speak with some pet-hair authority (not that this is an authority I'd ever hoped to hold) when I say the Absolute Animal is worth every penny. And it does cost many of them. It's so good I would lick my floor in its wake. Or at least Gene Simmons would....

Gorillas Gone Wild

Incredible news from the Congo!

A Quick Trip Off the Wagon

I ate pepperoni yesterday. I'm not even sure I can say it was by mistake because even as I was tasting and chewing and swallowing those spicy little circles, I was completely unaware of the error and hypocrisy of my ways. 

The setting: a picnic. The regretted consumable: pepperoni and spinach pizza. It was about twenty minutes after I'd consumed one slice of eggplant and one slice of the pepperoni-spinach (the pepperoni was still tingling my tongue just so) when my friend Julie asked me, "So how's the vegetarian thing going?" Immediately, I realized what I had done. "Great!" I said, taking a quick swig of my Heineken to hide my carnivorous breath. "Super."

It probably shouldn't be so surprising that after having eaten meat for thirty-two years, I might unconsciously revert every now and then. A few days before the pizza, I caught myself picking up a piece of bacon from the pile my mother had just fried. I was one finger-release away from popping it in my mouth by pure habit. Something I've done since I was tall enough to reach the kitchen counter: scavenge on my mother's scrumptious dinner preparations while keeping her company in the kitchen. In that instance, I put the bacon down - but I secretly wished I'd realized what I'd done after eating it, not before. 

Other than these two instances, I can't say I've missed meat all that much. Even during Nicholas Kristof's beloved "barbeque season." It remains a decision I feel good about every single day. Which is how I know it's the right decision. And how I quickly overcome any lingering longings.

Proposition 2

An unabashed Nicholas Kristof admirer, I had to share his last column, which is worth a read whether you're a vegetarian or not. In fact, it's even more important for all you meat eaters out there to see this. It will help you eat meat more conscientiously. 

A Horse Is a Horse, of Course of Course

Here are a couple of great links for helping horses be horses:

The Humane Society of the United States - Horses and Other Equines

and

ASPCA: Equine Program: Top 10 Ways to Help Horses

The UNmystery of Big Brown

I don’t usually watch horse racing. I like horses too much. But this year, coincidentally, I found myself at friend’s houses for both the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness. I still didn’t watch—I merely sat in the room while everybody else did, quietly averting my eyes. But I was there. I was in the room when Big Brown nosed out Eight Belles, and when Eight Belles, moments later, came tumbling down. I was also in the room when Big Brown so decidedly left everyone in the dust at the Preakness, giving hope to the wobbly-kneed industry—the promise of the first Triple Crown since 1978’s Affirmed was again within sight. However, I was nowhere near a television when Big Brown pulled his greatest feat yet: his now historic finish dead last. Everyone—his veterinarians included—seemed stumped. Aside from the cracked hoof he was forced to run on, if no physical ailment existed then how to explain this … mystery? That’s the word I saw over and over again: mystery. Michael Iavarone, the Co-President of International Equine Acquisitions Holdings said, “All we can do is chalk this one up as a mystery and regroup.”

I am no animal expert. I am certainly no racehorse expert (I admittedly wish the sport would just go away), but I have to wonder: if there truly was no detectable physical reason for Big Brown’s pulling back—and surely I hope there wasn’t—did that make it a mystery? Or, more to the point, did that make it the kind of mystery we don’t already anticipate in and expect from animals? Isn’t it, in fact, pretty animal-y to behave unpredictably? Think of Roy Horn’s (of Siegfried & Roy) seven-year-old white tiger suddenly lunging at his neck during a performance and dragging him off the stage “like a ragdoll,” as one audience member described it. Or when, just a few months ago, a grizzly bear named Rocky, known as the “best working bear in the business,” similarly lunged at his trainer, Stephan Miller, fatally biting him on his neck. While surely unexpected, it doesn’t seem so mysterious that if you ask an animal—or human, for that matter—to make his best scary face for the one thousandth time in a row, he might tell you no in the best way he knows how, which in the case of tigers and grizzly bears, can be much scarier than the scary face he was asked to make in the first place. Trainers like Stephan Miller know the risks involved. Miller’s cousin, Randy Miller, who is also in the animal-training business, said, “If one of these animals gets a hold of your throat, you’re finished.”

No matter how tame or trained or domesticated animals are, they’re still animals. So are we. In commenting on the attack on Roy Horn, Penn Jillette (of Penn & Teller) recognized that. “Every living thing goes crazy. Every species. And there’s nothing—no fingers to point.” Yet still, the headlines kept repeating: Mystery Surrounds Big Brown’s Triple Crown Loss. Big Brown’s Story Is a Mystery. Big Brown’s Mystery Adds to Belmont Misery. Why didn’t anyone suggest the possibility that this was Big Brown saying no in the best way he knows how? We don’t know all that goes on inside the minds of animals, just as we don’t inside the minds of each other. The day we do, we will all stop being animals. So who is to say that upon making his turn into that last roiling stretch—a sight that on most days sets his legs afire—Big Brown didn’t catch the scent of a Nathan’s Famous hot dog instead? Not a mouth-watering, desirous scent, but enough of a whiff to give him pause: What’s that? And that this didn’t cause him to slow one small fraction of a hair, but enough for him to take note: Oooo, this slowing feels good. And that in the end, Big Brown didn’t decide that stopping would feel even better. Why has no one wondered if Big Brown simply had a change of heart?

Anyone with a house pet—even the most well-trained kind—can tell you, every now and then, despite knowing exactly what is being asked of him and exactly which yummy treat he will receive in compensation, he simply won’t do it. He’ll run away for a moment, flutter his legs in the air, toss his fluffy head in revelry or defiance or lust, before returning to perform the task properly. As much as this frustrates me in my own dog, Safari, who is still (a little too slowly) learning how to “come,” I can’t help delighting in his moments of disobedience. Because they don’t actually look like disobedience to me—they look like, to steal an image from Leonard Cohen, little cracks where the animal gets through.

It would be hopeful if the horse-racing industry could begin to see their thundering machines for what they really are: animals. Animals are a mystery. Big Brown is a horse. I wish more racehorses were.