"Stupid is as stupid does..."

Meet Matthew. 

Matthew is a cute 3 year old cocker spaniel that is pampered and loved. 

Matthew has a loving home.  

Matthew sits on his Dad's warm lap while they watch tv or take a nap.  

Matthew has neckerchiefs for all occasions. 

Matthew has squeaky toys and chew bones to his heart's content.  He is well fed, has a round belly, and recognizes the jingle that the kibble makes as it hits his bowl each morning and evening.  His family adores him. Matthew is lacking nothing, and knows the love of a true family. 

But it was not always like this for Matthew. 

Matthew is a rescued dog. 

Matthew was once very skinny.

Matthew was once in need of a bath and a grooming...

Matthew had burn wounds on his neck caused by the improper use of an electric shock collar.

Matthew's name is as special as he is.  He was named after a man.

On a day that began like any other, Matthew the man drove to work.  As he drove down the highway, he noticed a box sitting in the middle of the road.  It seemed odd, but he continued on his way to work, and didn't think twice about it throughout his day.  If the box fell out of someone's truck bed, they will probably come back looking for it.  Hundreds of other cars drove up and down that highway during the next eight hours during Matthew's shift. 

They all let the box sit.  

Matthew the man finished his shift that evening and got into his car ready for the usual and predictable drive home.  This day was not going to end like most for Matthew the man. Nor would it end in the usual way for Matthew the dog.

Matthew the man drove down the same highway eager to get home.  Again, in the middle of the road, only slightly displaced from the spot where he saw it that morning was the same box.  At first, he did not want to stop, his dinner was waiting, and so was his warm bed... but his curiosity got the best of him.  He stopped his car along the side of the highway and got out.  When traffic was clear, he walked up to the box.  

There was writing on the box, but this was not the time to stop and read it.  He dragged the box to the side of the road to a safe spot next to his car with the flashers blinking.  He was startled by the fact that the object inside the box seemed to move about on it's own in response to his movements. 

As Matthew focused on the box, he read the following words beneath scribbling,

"This is a varry stupid dog and verry dirty".

Inside this box...

Was a dog. 

A dog that was chewing on the flap inside the box trying to make his way out, not realizing that escaping the box would likely mean sudden death on a highway.

The tape was removed, and the dog Matthew could see inside the box was still alive.  Shocked, the dog's new caretaker took the dog and the box to Hardin Eldora Animal Rescue Team, aka HEART Rescue.  They had no room for another dog, there were no foster homes waiting for another foster dog, they had no funds for another dog, but Heart could not turn him away. 

HEART took him in and a foster home came forward after reading the story.  The dog was named after the man who dared to stop his car.  At the end of that one day, Matthew the man had saved a life, and Matthew the dog was given a new life.

It was discovered that Matthew the dog had a microchip, but it had never been registered by his owner.   Tracing the microchip led to a veterinary clinic in Indiana who sold the chip to a local breeder.  This breeder used a dog sales broker from Florida to sell the dog to someone and that is likely how he ended up in Iowa.  None of this information would help to find the owners of this dog.  HEART Rescue ran an advertisement in the newspaper hoping a family might be missing this dog, and would come forward to claim him.  No one did.

HEART immediately cared for Matthew's veterinary needs which included burns under his neck caused by the improper use of an electric shock collar.  Matthew struggled with fear issues, that he is overcoming slowly with his new adopted family. His fear was predominantly of males, and Matthew's willingness to sit on his new Dad's lap is a HUGE sign of progress.

I cannot help but wonder if Matthew was always in the care of the awful people who shocked him, neglected to feed him, and stuffed him in a box and left him on the highway for dead?  Did these people wait and watch after placing the box on the highway, hoping to see the impact caused by the box and an unsuspecting driver so they could laugh at his death?

Was he stolen from the yard of the family who first purchased him, a family that cared yet neglected to register his microchip?  Do the original people that purchased Matthew from a pet store or from an internet puppy sale website, really care about him and wonder where he is now? 

Was he given by the people who first bought him, to one person, who then gave him to another, and thus worked his way down the "Free to Good Home" chain until he was in the hands of these heartless cruel people? 

We will never know.

Matthew cannot tell us.

But the words on that box tell me a great deal more about the people who wrote them, than they do about the dog inside the box.

A person who shocks a dog without training him is stupid.  A person who has a dog in their care and neglects to feed that dog is stupid.  A person who calls a dog dirty without giving it a bath is stupid.  A person who heartlessly shoves a dog in a box and leaves it on a highway to die in a cruel and inhumane manner is VARRY stupid. 

Matthew is not stupid.  A dog who does not respond to an owner who has not trained him is not stupid.  A dog who does not perform tricks when repeatedly shocked with a shock collar is not stupid.  A dog who was still willing to love the very people who performed these cruel acts is not stupid.

He is a dog with the gift of unconditional love.  A gift that it seems so few people have, and yet animals have it in abundance.  Matthew holds no grudges.  Matthew does not bite.  Matthew lives only to please.  Matthew is not angry about the past.  Matthew is happy living in the present.

We should all be that stupid.

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My Christmas Wish List...

Dear Santa,

Enclosed is my holiday wish list for my friends and family.  I have kept it brief, and I think most items are pretty light weight for travel.

For my husband: a few moments to slow down, so we can appreciate our relationship, our kids, and our lives together.

For my older sister: realization that miles cannot separate hearts

For my middle sister: good health, and strength as her nest becomes empty

For Cara: success in the field she knew she would love at the ripe old age of 8 yrs!

For Missy M.: I want her to feel the joy that she makes people feel with her words and smiles.

For Kassy: more brownie ingredients, and some time to be 15.

For Heidi: a housewarming party... with brownies (no nuts)

For Tova: a chance to shed the pain and shine the light

For Amy and all my rescue friends: an abundance of adoptive families or a money tree (whichever is easier)

For Missy S.: a moment of silence in a house that roars

For Traci: a soft place to fall, sometimes the rock needs that

For Lori:  for her girls to become the strong woman she has become

For Dewan: pork chops

For Jeri:  :-)

For those that are hungry, abused, neglected, or homeless: bring food, safety, love, and families.

For Kim: to let the love of family and friends support her, at times when she cannot.

For Miguel:  physical and emotional strength, he has already shown his courage and heart... and a light at the end of the tunnel

For my kids, I want all those things that every parent wishes for their children.  All those things that cannot be wrapped or put under a tree.  You know what I mean.  You're Santa.

For those I did not specifically mention, I wish you a Merry Christmas and a Wonderful New Year!


Thank you and safe travels,
Your dedicated elf,
Lisa

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Michael Vick Comes Up Smelling Like Roses

A few days ago, I was driving down the road with my family.  My husband was listening to a sports channel on the radio while I gazed out the window hoping to spot some deer grazing in the fields.  The sportscasters were discussing the "New Face of Football".  For those of you not obsessed with sports, I believe this phrase refered to a successful player that has a superior record and a face that will attract people to the game.  One of the sportscasters recalled a moment that in his mind ruled one of the NFL's recently successful players out of the running for the title of "New Face of Football".

He was watching a game featuring the Philadelphia Eagles when his wife walked into the room.  She looked at the screen and responded, (paraphrasing) "Ugh.  Get that guy off our TV, I won't watch him play."  She was referring to Michael Vick, #7.  

I call this photo "Squish".

The broadcaster continued to comment that there are many men and women who feel this strongly about Michael Vick and his past, despite his recent successes, despite the forgiveness Vick has obviously received by the NFL.  For this reason, this sportscaster's opinion was that Michael Vick could not be declared the next "Face of Football".

Yesterday, I read a letter on ESPN written by Nils Lofgren.  Nils Lofgren is a guitarist who has toured with Bruce Springsteen, Ringo Starr, Neil Young and has released more than 40 solo albums.  In a letter he wrote to ESPN,  (read it here: http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/commentary/news/story?id=5876114 ), he expressed his outrage at the praise that Michael Vick is getting in response to his football prowess.

I posted Mr. Lofgren's letter on my Facebook page and received this response from a high school classmate of mine, "He did the crime, but he also did the time. Let's not forget that Vick paid a much harsher penalty than most NFL stars involved with or convicted of violence against people. Let the man get on with his life."

Should we let the man get on with his life?  Or should we demand that the NFL reconsider it's rules about retaining convicted felons?  Is the game about obtaining the best player regardless of the shame that player brings to the field?  Shouldn't the NFL insist that the players to whom they award multi-million dollar contracts, maintain a code of conduct that at the very least should require abiding by our federal and local laws?

I am not a huge sports enthusiast, but I do have the general knowledge required to watch most of the major sports of the US.  Football is actually my favorite.  I love the sound of the pads clashing together as two players hit.  I love watching a long pass land in the breadbasket of a receiver. I refuse to watch a Philadelphia Eagles game.

I often wonder about the decision made by the NFL regarding Michael Vick's possible ban from Football after being convicted of committing a felony.  Michael Vick broke a federal law regarding dog fighting.  But he was not "just" a dog fighter.  He brutally and horrifically tortured and killed the dogs that did not meet his fighting standards .  He drowned them, hanged them, electrocuted them, shot them, he slammed their breathing bodies to the ground and left them for dead.  Some dogs died quickly, others were not so lucky.  He served 18 months in prison and 2 months in home confinement for conspiracy charges and for running a dog fighting ring.  He did not serve any time for the animal abuse or neglect that he inflicted on those dogs that could not or would not fight.

When he was released, he was a major source of excitement for the news.  Would he be allowed back into the NFL?  Would any team be willing to employ Michal Vick?  Would he be permanently banned from the NFL? The chattering went on and on, until the news finally broke.  The NFL declares that Michael Vick would be allowed back into the NFL. Which team would nestle him under their wing?  The Philadelphia Eagles!

As a convicted felon, Vick is now admired by sports enthusiasts and adored by children.  He is praised for throwing a ball.  He makes millions of dollars, and paid a $5,000 fine along with the time he served for his conviction.  What bothers me the most about his return, is that I wonder what this teaches our children.  Children that adore him will emulate him.  They will parade around in his jersey.  They will worship him.  And some will mimic his past.  Children will learn that if you are good at something, it doesn't matter how poorly you behave otherwise.

People can argue that it is not in a professional athletes job description to be a role model.  The job throws you into the hearts and minds of children, and this makes you a role model regardless of the wording on your contract.  Many jobs may not specify that you are a role model, but you will become one...teacher, firefighter, policeman.  Many jobs would not accept a convicted felon back into the workplace.  If it happened to you or to me, we would likely not be fortunate enough to dance out of prison straight into our old uniform.

While the NFL embraces a convicted felon, and raises him up on their shoulders, another man sits and watches.  This man also excelled in his sport.  This man continues to hold records in his sport decades after his retirement.

Pete Rose, a switch hitter, is the all-time Major League leader in hits, games played, at bats, and outs.  He won three World Series rings, three batting titles, one Most Valuable Player award, two Gold Gloves, the Rookie of the Year Award, and made 17 All Star appearances playing five different positions during his career which ranged from 1963 to 1986.  Pete Rose was also addicted to gambling.  

He gambled on sports, including his own.  He gambled on his own team.  Within the Major Leagues, there was a rule that gambling on sports in general, and gambling on your team specifically, was reason enough to be banned from the sport.


The point of this blog is not to justify or vilify the Major League's decision to ban Pete Rose.  I am not going to debate whether reinstating Pete Rose is the wrong or the right thing to do.

A man who excelled at his game was permanently banned from playing or coaching the game that he lived and breathed.  His number is banned from being formally retired in his honor because he is not allowed on the playing field.  He is banned from being inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame despite an amazing career filled with even more amazing statistics.  A condition of his ban from baseball was that he could apply for reinstatement 1 year after the ban was imposed in 1989.  He applied for reinstatement in 1992 and 1997.  His application was not denied... it was ignored both times.

20 years have passed, and Pete Rose is still banned from every aspect of the game at which he excelled.  He is banned because he broke a rule.  He is banned because he broke a rule of ethics imposed by the Major Leagues.


Michal Vick committed a federal crime.  Michael Vick was convicted of a felony.  Michael Vick walked out of prison in May of 2009.  Michael Vick was reinstated into the NFL in July of 2009.   Michael Vick was welcomed back into the nape of the NFL during his first game in August of 2009.

Another difference between the two players...Rose was already retired as a player at the time of his ban, while Vick was still young and had the potential to bring money and winning games to the team and the NFL.


I think I am going to start watching baseball.




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Not a Creature was Stirring...

'Tis the season for trees and the trimmings, so my staff had to work through the shed that resides behind the animal hospital and dig out our Christmas decorations.  Each year, the Christmas stuff makes it's way to the most remote crevice in the back of the shed as it is used only once a year.  In front of the Christmas boxes, is all the other "stuff" from the past eleven months.  This year was no different and eleven months worth of "stuff" had to be battled through in order to liberate the season's decorations.

Kassy comes into the clinic dragging a large black plastic bag with the lower half of a fake tree sticking out the end of it.  She lays it on the floor in the office, and walks to the sink to wash her almost frostbitten hands in warm water.  Her cheeks are red and she sniffles as she talks about the battle of the shed.

Suddenly, Missy, who is on the phone with a potential adopter, squeaks, "I think there is a mouse in the Christmas Tree!"  Missy and the adopter continued to discuss the goings on, and the adopter found our predicament quite amusing.

In response to Missy's declaration, I turn around to see Missy perched on her feet on top of one of our office chairs.   These chairs are on wheels, and as the boss and owner of the clinic, I cannot help but think of the safety hazard that this position created.

I observe the bag on the floor that holds a small portion of the tree.  It looks as though it might be moving, and I think I  hear some of the tiny fake needles pinging musically within the bag as if something is rustling amongst the branches. 

Kassy, unaware of what is going on, walks out of the bathroom with a paper towel, drying her hands.  I point to the corner of the bag, and ask, "Is that moving?"

I was hoping she would say, "Yes, but a dog or cat is right next to it making it move."  But she didn't, and there wasn't.

Kassy and I observe the bag carefully.  It is not moving.

Phew, relief sets in!  We must have some imagination!

Then it happened!  It moved!  The bag moved!  And it moved a lot for a bag that held only a fake tree!  There is no way any of us could have missed that movement!

Kassy leaped back in surprise! 

I start shouting, "We need to get the tree outside!  Heidi, come help me!  We need to get the tree outside!" 

Somewhere, I hear an unidentified voice say, "There are enough cats in here, they'll catch it!" 

The thought of fighting a mouse problem or chasing a chipmunk in a building where I house a lot of dog and cat food was not settling well within me.  This tree and it's inhabitant NEEDED to move outside NOW!

Meanwhile, Missy had leaped off the office chair and, squealing the entire way, darted to the far back of the dental room to hide from this killer MOUSQUIRRATMUNK that was inhabiting the horizontal tree. 

I continued to call for help as I grabbed the pole at the base of the tree.  "Someone needs to grab the bag!  We need to get this thing out of the clinic!"

Finally, someone's hands grab the bag.  We start to lift the tree and the bag in unison, trying not to frighten the mousquirratmunk, propelling it out of the bag, and into the clinic where it could reside for the winter.

My eyes follow the helping hands, up the arm, passed the shoulder, and I am shocked!  There stands Missy, suddenly quiet and suddenly brave!  The fact that I was at the end of the parcel from which the critter would surface, run up the pole of the tree, onto my hand and up my arm, shoulder, onto my neck to lunge for my jugular vein may have enhanced her courage!  Just sayin'.

As the tree and the bag come off the ground, we slowly start to move that large parcel towards the door, so we can free this critter into it's natural habitat...OUTSIDE. 

Suddenly, a furry body comes flying out of the bag, out from under the tree, and four women SQUEEEEAAAALLL with fear!  It was a large furry body, and it moved fast!  It was out of the bag! 

Darn it all!  (not quite the words I was thinking or saying, but there it is)

Hearts were pounding, eyes were dilated, and all four of us are now standing about three feet further from the bag than we were just moments ago!  My mind is getting ready to make my body scream, "GET THE LIVE TRAPS! MOVE ALL OUR ANIMALS OUT OF HERE!"

And then I see it...

I see Paris.

No, not the city.  I am not unconscious and dreaming of the vacation of which I am in such dire need.

I see Paris.

The cat...

I see Paris.

The Torti Point Siamese...

I see Paris.

The Mousquirratmunk...

In the very brief time period during which that tree rested on the floor, Paris had made her way into the bag without us hearing or seeing her, and proceeded to scare the bejeebers out of ALL of us! 

Paris, the Mousquirratmunk, got adopted today.  She was adopted on the very day that I had decided to take her home.  I had made the decision to take her home this morning, before this silly event had taken place, and before I knew a nice gentleman had recently lost his Siamese and would see her photo...

While I know that she is in a good home, I am saddened by her adoption.  I hold no resentment for the kind gentleman that adopted her.  It was difficult to watch her go, because I felt as though she was my cat already, simply because I had made up my mind to make her mine.  Even though she had not resided at my house yet, she was my cat in my head and in my heart.  With this crazy stunt she pulled, I knew she was goofy enough to be part of my family, despite my husband's protests about exceeding the CCL, the Comfortable Cat Limit.

The truth is, despite my feelings of loss, I am thrilled for Paris, and for her new family .  She went home with a single gentleman that just lost his Siamese cat. He had seen her photograph on http://www.jewellanimalhospital.petfinder.com/ and came to the clinic to meet her and take her home. He had glowing references and fell in love with her immediately, just like I did.

Paris has a new Dad, and six feline siblings.  Apparently, the gentleman's CCL is higher than my husband's...  His CCL is firmly set at seven cats.  I think this entitles me to two more cats?  Am I right?  I was never very good at math.

Thanks for the memorable last day with us, Paris. I will really miss you.

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