Boston Strong

I thought it would be appropriate today to post the picture of Hathaway at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. It took us until fall to make our pilgrimage to Boylston Street and pay our respects. (Of course, it turns out that after dragging him on the train and around Boston for 3 or 4 hours, he was sick with an abscess growing in his head.)

Most days, Hathaway wears a Boston Strong collar, and it was the Marathon tragedy that finally spurred us to actually earn, rather than just talk about earning, our therapy dog certification. In the grand scheme of it all, that's probably a little thing. But for the people we visit, and for us, it's a big deal to even make a little bit of a difference.

Lessons learned

My son was bit on Tuesday, right on the lip, by a dog we didn't know. Let me answer your questions in the order they occur to you::

1) Cocker spaniel
2) He's OK, just has a fat lip.
3) No, he didn't do anything to provoke it.

As a "dog person," in general, and a pit bull owner specifically, the first question I always have and always hear after a biting incident is: "What kind of dog was it?"

It was startling, bloody (oh how head wounds bleed!) and a bit painful for Josh. It was startling and concerning for me -- not only had my son been bitten, but if this had been a pit bull or a "pit bull-type dog" as too many mutts are now called, it could have been headline news. Ultimately, though, it just presented a whole lotta teachable moments.

Josh knows his way around dogs of all kinds and all sizes, even though he's not quite 12. He and his sister had to learn about the characteristics and behaviors of pit bulls before I even considered bringing Hathaway home. Both kids are knowledgeable and conscientious, but they're also kids and sometimes they forget.

Josh loves dogs and they love him. He was not doing anything obvious to make a dog feel threatened and bite (teasing, startling, cornering etc ...) He gave it his hand to sniff. The spaniel licked it. He bent over a little to pat it on the head and the dog jumped up and bit him. No growl, no warning.

Thankfully, it was one bite, not an attack, and it didn't happen to a more delicate part of his face. It was a reminder to him to keep his face away from strange dogs and to ask the owner if it's OK to pet the animal. It's also a reminder that different actions are threatening to different dogs: Maybe his bending down scared it. 

The woman was shocked when I told her her dog bit my son. Her first question was "Did he have food?" (No) and then "Can I see?" (Uh, sure, just please don't touch his blood-covered face.) I also explained that there are a lot of younger kids at the park at that time of day that will be much less cautious about approaching her dog than my kid was. Hopefully she got the message.

For me, the incident reinforces my belief that EVERY dog -- regardless of breed -- has some trigger that will cause it to bite a person, and it's the owner's responsibility to learn what it is (or assume what it could be) and avoid that situation.

My dog has not bitten anyone and I don't think he would, but I watch as if he might. I have always handled my dogs this way, and always will, whether I have a house full of pit bulls or pugs.

Back where he should be

Do you 'ear what I 'ear?  Hathaway was resting comfortably after ear surgery and tooth removal yesterday. For a little while anyway. Let's just say he hates the Cone of Shame (picture to come) and can't get comfortable in it. I have to admit it was kind of funny watching him try to navigate down steps and through doorways, but after the stress and worry of the last couple of days, I think I'm allowed a chuckle.

Anyway, a fast-growing lump was removed from his left ear. We weren't sure how much tissue they'd have to remove and cropping the ear was a possibility. Fortunately, it didn't come to that and he still has two floppy Dumbo ears.We should have biopsy results next week.

Pit bulls deserve a break today

Dear McDonald's,

Wanna know what's risky? Offending pit bull owners across the country.

Social media was all a-Twitter today with the McDonald's radio ad for its new menu item. Several of the pit bull groups I follow via Facebook posted a notice as well. The radio spot says trying a new menu item at the fastfood chain isn't risky, and suggests somethings that are ... like petting a stray pit bull.

I wanted to embed the YouTube clip here, but guess what -- it's been pulled.

See, McDonald's underestimated the response not only of owners, but animal activists, rescue organizations and many others. It's pretty amazing that a company that big, didn't have one person who stood up to say "Hey, should we think about this for a minute? Getting breed-specific can be pretty touchy." We are hoping this doesn't affect the rescue efforts of the Animal Protection Center or other shelters.

The ad could have simply said, "You know what's risky? Petting a stray dog. That's risky."

Instead, they went the other way. I hope the fallout is huge and lasts a little longer than the usual outrage over stupid advertising mistakes. Responsible pit bull owners work too hard to change the image that media continues to perpetrate to have it blown with at 30-second commercial for an artery-clogging conglomerate.

Casey-Leigh Stock, an organizer with the New England Bully Breed Club, drafted a fabulous letter to the company, reminding anyone who reads it that this is an old and noble breed made up of war heroes and "nanny dogs."

There's a nagging little part of my brain that says McDonald's new what the fallout would be and was banking on the free media. In a way, I feel like I'm playing into their greasy corporate hands.

At the same time, I don't really care. My daughter has refused to eat a that place since seeing "Super Size Me," although I've tried to point out everything in that movie that was manipulated to make a point. Now, she has a real reason, as does the rest of my family.

The only reason I'll take them to McDonald's after today is so Hathaway can make his own little golden arch on the sign out front.

Eight days a week

Alas, my days of Hathaway have turned into weeks. Whether it's a matter of being lazy or being busy, I'm not sure. Maybe being busy makes me lazy. And being lazy makes me look up quotes.

It's the first thing they teach you in Journalism School -- leading with a quote is cliche (read: lazy). Sometimes if I'm stuck for a lead, I'll look up a quote just to kick-start the battery; it's kind of like jumper cables for my brain, a little spark for the thought process.

So, I looked up quotes (at brainyquote.com no less) about days and weeks and found some from some fellows I find quite insightful and downright entertaining, like Mark Twain:

"I must have a prodigious quantity of mind; it takes me as much as a week sometimes to make it up."

And George Bernard Shaw:

"Few people think more than two or three times a year; I have made an international reputation for myself by thinking once or twice a week."

I do think at least once or twice a week. I'm finding that sometimes, it's the remembering that's the problem. This morning, for instance, I got the kids up and fed and off to school with snacks and lunches and homework. I got the dog fed and dressed and walked and relieved and settled. I got myself together and to the train on time. I put in productive hours, got home, shoveled the driveway, finished some unfinished business and got the dogs together for their afternoon excursion.

And I couldn't find Hathaway's sweater. I took it off him after our morning walk and hung it up, just not in it's "spot." The sweater has a "spot" so I neither have to think nor remember when it comes to dressing the dog on a cold morning. And the spot was empty. I looked all over, but couldn't remember where I left it, no matter how hard I thought. The kids couldn't find it either.

We took our walk without the sweater, and thankfully without much shivering. The dogs ate, and I sat down to blog, without an idea beyond googling "week."

And sitting here typing, being neither lazy nor busy, not necessarily thinking and certainly not remembering, I found the sweater. Hanging on the bedroom closet door at eye level. In the right place (closet door) but wrong spot (different closet).

I'm guessing there's probably a moral to this story. Maybe I should google "Aesop."

12 Days of Hathaway -- Day 8

The pit bull is snoozing next to me all cozy on the fleece blanket, right where he should be.

Some days you are quickly reminded that your friends will be there when you need them. Late yesterday afternoon we helped search for Trudy, a hound dog being fostered by our friend Melissa from the dog park.

Being a hound, Trudy followed her nose and ran off after a scent. The scent led her along the shoreline at the dog park, which however, leads under a state highway to another park that's vastly larger. Trudy, who is available for adoption from the Quincy Animal Shelter, had been missing nearly 3 hours by the time we showed up at the park, and she could have been anywhere in the miles and miles along the river or through the woods between Hingham and Weymouth. And honestly, the idea of her being lost in the woods was not nearly as bad as the idea of her trying to cross the busy, busy road to get back to the dog park as it got dark.

Trudy is a really nice dog, but is wary, and not likely to come to someone she isn't too familiar with. And if she's scared, she'll bark at you, so catching her was going to be a challenge even if it wasn't getting cold and dark.

Dozens of people helped look for Trudy. The kids, Jim and our friend Kevin, along with the dogs, decided to look at the bigger park as darkness fell. We could hear a hound barking and more than than a dozen people helped move her through the woods to a spot where another group could catch her.

Trudy was safe, making for a heart-warming happy ending to the evening for both the dog and her foster mom, who works so hard to take care of her. The heart-lifting part of the story, though, is seeing how many people helped look for her without a thought and without being asked.

Given the size of the area Trudy was in, as well as its challenges -- the road, the weather, the water, the darkness, the coyotes -- it's hard to imagine the story could have had the same outcome without them.

12 Days of Hathaway - Day 7

No, I don't know where the time goes, but we'll get to 12 days one way or another. This was supposed to be posted for Christmas day. So merry, merry and all that.

I hope all our friends and followers had as nice a holiday as we did. Notice the juxtapositions in the picture between Nina/Hath and Josey/Josh. Yep, the looks on their faces pretty much sum it all up.

The 12 Days of Hathaway -- Day 6

Just a picture tonight because I'm tired.

This is Hathaway and his kids sitting on the raft that's about 20 yards from shore at my Dad's house. Hath swims in the lake on the summer, but this was his first time at the raft and he walked on water, so to speak.

The 12 Days of Hathaway -- Day 4

Yes, we're out of order, but we're no longer out of sorts.

The big boy started slowly, but was mostly back to normal by the end of the day. We'll still keep a close eye on him for another 12-24 hours in case it was something toxic, but so far, so good.

And you would have thought that regurgitation followed by nearly 24 hours of continuous sleep is the formula for awakening the superpowers within. When we went for our morning jaunt, both his nose and his hearing seemed sharper.

He was following scents like our bloodhound buddy Lucy and attentively listening like (fill in the blank). Is there a dog breed known for its hearing? Or a superhero for that matter? I think the bionic woman had a bionic ear.

Wait! There's actually a whole list of superheroes with super-hearing (thank you Google, the most powerful superhero of all). Superman tops the list on comicvine.com but I think God wins because He comes in at No. 6 and No. 12, and it IS the season and all that.

Anyway, Hathaway was listening this morning,not to me and my commands, but to what was going on around him. I think he was just happy to be up and out in his world after a day of misery. Call it his new leash on life.

The 12 Days of Hathaway -- Day 5

(We'll come back to Day 4.)

Hath has been sick all day today. He hasn't eaten since Saturday, and didn't finish his food then.
He went right to sleep on Josh's bed when we got home from the dog park this morning, and threw up the cookies he had snacked on. Mr. High Anxiety didn't know I had left the house, didn't come down when he was called by one of his favorite people and was shaking.

He finally curled up on the couch and slept there for nearly 8 hours. He sat up and gave kisses to the kids when they got home, and went outside for a brief walk. When we got inside though, he took a drink and was back on the couch and didn't even open an eye when I yelled "Fumble!" or "Touchdown!!"

In my well-dog book, just about every entry for which listlessness is a symptom is extremely serious and in more than 2 years, Hathaway has skipped maybe one meal. So far, we're up to 3. (FYI -- it also says you can give them Pepto-Bismol for tummy problems.) Josh, who had a similar day earlier in the week, said "Maybe he got my bug Mom." Maybe he did.

In some ways, it's harder than having a sick child because he can't tell me what's wrong. I can touch his various parts (paws, legs, shoulders, belly) to see if they're tender, but pit bulls can be rather stoic. At most, Hath will flinch slightly if something hurts. Fortunately, he didn't.

As the evening wore on, he started acting a little more like himself. He got up and stretched. Had some water. Wagged his tail for the kids and curled up with us for stories. I think he's on the mend, but I won't be sure until I see him eat something.

12 Days of Hathaway -- Day 3

OK, I'm cheating a little because I'm going to post twice today, but as long as I get to 12 by Christmas, nobody will know, right?

Our walk yesterday morning was a real turkey. Actually, its highlight was the neighborhood flock of turkeys (16 in all) that we happened upon during our walk.

Hath is usually off leash in the cemetery and I noticed the birds long before he did. But he's not impulsive, and was more interested in watching them than meeting them.

So there we were, watching 16 turkeys and 16 turkeys watching us. Some of them thought about making a getaway over a berm and down a hill, but a scout turkey flapped up into a tree to keep an eye on us and the turkey-in-chief led his platoon in the opposite direction, off into the middle of the cemetery. We walked past the group, the scout turkey in the tree to our right, covering their flank, and the rest heading off to our left. I think they had a vague idea we weren't a threat because we passed within just a few feet of them.

Once we were past the turkey in the tree joined his group. However, the road we were walking makes a loop, and when the flock realized we were passing them again, he flapped up into a different tree. It was fascinating to think that the turkey had an assignment, and it was rather comical to see what was probably a 15-20-pounder balancing on the skinniest, lowest branch of the scrawny sapling.

That road that led us past the turkeys also took us down a hill. Part way down, we heard Canada geese passing overhead and don't you know, Hathaway stopped and watched the geese as they headed southeast, flying in formation.

I don't know if he could link the idea that the geese were similar to the turkeys, but I do know he'd never stopped to watch them before walking through that flock.

12 Days of Hath -- Day 2

Disclaimer: This picture is in no way posed or Photoshopped.

Is there such a thing as doggie porn? Possibly the funniest thing about this photo is that Hath was asleep ... snoring. I felt a little like Larry Flynt taking the pictures, but this one especially does make me laugh.

And it makes me think of Burt Reynolds, circa 1972. Google "Burt Reynolds Cosmopolitan" and you'll see what I mean. Reynolds did a nude photo shoot for the magazine back in his heyday. The pictures should actually show up as part of your Google search. Look closely: Similar pose on an animal skin.

Goodness, that was 40 years ago. Is Reynolds still alive? If not, did "Bandit" (or was he Smokey?) come back as my pit bull?

Now, please note: I am not old enough to remember the Burt Reynolds Cosmo pictures. However, I am old enough to remember the David Hasselhoff Cosmo pictures in which he posed with some strategically placed Shar-Pei puppies. (First thought: Hasselhoff is probably more wrinkly than a Shar-Pei these days.) At the time, much reference was made to his predecessor's pictures.

I don't know if Cosmo is still doing photo spreads like these. I just wish they had stopped before they got to that unknown male model named Scott Brown, now known as U.S. Senator Scott Brown.

5 more minutes ...

Hathaway has been sleeping in my son's bed lately. I apparently take too long to wash my face and brush my teeth, so rather than waiting for me to claim my spot in the queen-size, he hops into Josh's twin bed and snuggles in to the fleece Red Sox blanket he finds so comfortable.

Recently, I peeked in before either one of them was awake and they were side by side, both heads -- the boy and the bully -- sharing the pillow. It made me wonder which one of them had hit the snooze button.

Hathaway has always been a good sleeper. On the weekends, when I don't have to be up to make the lunches and herd the children, we sleep in. I still stir around 6 or 6:30, often because a certain furry companion has taken all the covers or all the space. Sometimes he moves, sometimes he doesn't. I usually start waking up for real around 7, fully intent on staying under the covers as long as the dog will let me. So I ask him: "What do you think pal, is it time?"

Now and then, he wags his tail,stretches, gives a kiss and starts to sit up. That's when I know we've got to go. But most of the time, he just blinks those big brown eyes, gives a snort or a snore and rolls over. Giving me at least 5 more minutes ...

Catching up

I was making my traditional holiday calendars for the grandparents the other night and came across a bunch of great photos ... of the dog. Not so many of the kids as they start to get older, but lots and lots of the dog.

My mom doesn't mind that one of her grandchildren rarely bathes, has a wet nose, is a quadruped and thinks the world is his bathroom. My step-mom, however, states emphatically over and over that "the dog is not one of my grandchildren!" Of course, this makes my sister and I even more emphatically insist that she is, simply for the pure entertainment value.

The irony is that the dog (mine or my sister's) is probably the best grandchild ever. He'll eat whatever you want to feed him without being picky or complaining. He doesn't want you to chase him around the house all day unless you want to. He's happy just to lay at your feet while you play Scrabble on Facebook or do "research" on the computer. He doesn't fight with his brothers or his friends or his cousins and he doesn't pout. He doesn't leave his stuff all over the house. You can read the books you're interested in and he doesn't hog the TV or the video games.

Of course, he prefers crunching Legos to building with them and he's kind of a sloppy eater. And he can't call to say hello or thank you or 'I got all A's on my report card." He can -- and does -- give just as many kisses and hugs and never gets tired of sitting in your lap.

Aware and enlightened

I had wanted to post something for Pit bull Awareness Day Oct. 9, but Sunday came and went without a minute to spare. So imagine my delight when I found out that October is actually Pit bull Awareness MONTH! Woo hoo.

Truth be told, however, Hathaway and I try to make every day of every month Pit bull Awareness Day so people start to realize how incredible these dogs can be. We have made friends at the dog park and around the neighborhood, at the soccer fields and the pet store. People I have never seen before call out his name and rub his big head. And on Saturdays and Sundays at sporting fields teaming with hundreds of kids and adults, Hath is usually laying on the sideline, watching the action and getting his belly rubbed by child after child after child, or sometimes an entire team at once.

Puppies climb on him and toddlers standing at eye level pluck his favorite ball right out of his mouth and he plays or waits or chases, whatever he understands his job to be at that moment. We have taken the first steps toward teaching him to be a therapy dog.

And still we have moments, like the lady at the dog park a couple of weeks ago in her fancy clothes walking her trendy Lab. As I was talking with my friend Beth, another regular with two small schnauzer types, Hathaway was stretched out in the cool grass, chewing his rubber ball like bubble gum. He wasn't on a leash. He rarely is.

When the woman was about 20 yards away, she waved and very sincerely called out, "Is it safe to walk by?"

Caught off guard (being in a place where everyone knows Hath's name), I looked around for a moment. When I saw it was only me and Beth standing there, it was clear she was asking about the dog.

I waved back and just as politely said "Of course" and turned back to my friend. Beth bit her tongue for as long as she could, so the woman had passed us but wasn't completely out of earshot when she burst out with an "Are you KIDDING me? Did she mean Hathaway?" followed by a few more colorful words.

I just shrugged. It happens -- not all the time, but regularly enough. For some people, it doesn't matter that he is an AKC-certified Canine Good Citizen or how much training he's had. For some people, it won't matter that we will eventually be visiting nursing homes or helping kids to read. They'll hear the word --pit bull -- and the rest won't matter.

So every day, if we can meet someone new or play with another kid, if we can be out around town and in stores, sitting for pats and playing with puppies, we might change one more opinion. That might mean one more dog is rescued and that's why every day is Pit bull Awareness Day for us.