This week we celebrated Valentine’s Day with our loved ones, but it was also a time to remember loved ones who are no longer here. A close friend lost her beloved golden retriever this week and as we talked and laughed and cried together, I kept thinking how cruel it is that pets live such short lives, but also how LUCKY we are to share them. She, like I, was head over heels for our dogs and often regarded as “crazy” by our friends and family. In a good way I hope 🙂 But we both know that the pure unconditional love you share with special pets is so powerful. I don’t feel embarrassed, in fact, I feel sorry that some people will never experience this type of love. Because it is simple and uncomplicated and something we all deserve and need.
As we age, we are losing so many dear friends that sometimes it’s overwhelming. It’s like a clock is ticking and we know we will be next. It’s unavoidable. And we don’t always see eye to eye with our relatives, sometimes there are so many mixed feelings we have to reconcile at the end of life. But our pets are always just there, not judging us, not staying mad at us, never ignoring us, just loving us. How special that relationship is, and for me, as I struggle with aging parents, I am ever thankful that I have had and will always have a furry dog to hug.
And hugging a dog can be true therapy. As you can tell by the photo of my oldest son, I am (hopefully) passing on the dog hugging gene to my boys 🙂 Because they will need it too. During one of the most painful times in my life when I lost a close friend to a car accident at a very young age, I remember feeling like life was spinning out of control. It was my first time dealing with death and I was in shock. We were all grieving at my friend’s house and so was their family dog. I remember this little dog gingerly walking up to me and bowing her head and it dawned on me that she also needed a hug. That hug meant the world to me and now I don’t hesitate to grab my dogs when I need a hug. Of course I grab my kids and husband as well so don’t think I’m ignoring them! But sometimes it’s nice to huge someone without having to explain, without having to go into details, to just feel that love. Because your dog will always give it back to you. (Well, assuming you treat it with respect and dignity of course.)
This past week I was awakened at 2am to clean up vomit – yes once again Rudy ate something hard and plastic – and I was irritated and cranky and couldn’t get back to sleep. But then the next day I’m reminded how fragile life is. For all the hassle and cleanups, it’s truly a small price to pay for the love I get in return.
Although I can understand the deep longing to recreate a lost pet, I was so disturbed to read about South Korea’s dog cloning industry. For a mere $100,000 – yes one hundred thousand dollars – you too can have a genetic replica of your deceased dog. Just think how many homeless pets are euthanized every year around the globe. Just think of how many lives could be saved with $100,000.
To make matters worse, many of the surrogate mother dogs are sent off to be slaughtered for their meat after they give birth to the clone. Many cloned offspring also don’t make it, or are deformed, and “disposed of” until a suitable clone is created. Think the prospective pet buyers are informed of how many dogs are being sacrificed so that they can recreate their lost pet? Doubtful.
The bioethics of pet cloning seems fairly cut and dry. Maybe it should be allowed once we can honestly say our animal shelters are empty, there are no more unwanted pets, and every animal that needs a home has a loving forever home.
Until then, check out your local pet shelters. You’ll save a life and a whole lot of money!
How many of us can trace back to a pivotal point in their childhood when they realized they were different? Or maybe you felt that everyone else was crazy wrong and you were the sane one? I can clearly remember two situations which have stuck with me throughout life, and reaffirm my belief that I was born an animal lover. (And being raised in a family wild about dogs of course didn’t hurt.)
I was probably six or seven, the age of my boys now, sitting at the dinner table talking about fire safety. I had pasted little safety tips over outlets and switches throughout the house, much to the chagrin of my parents, to show what we were learning in school. My ever-rational father was asking what I would do if there was a fire. I said I would run downstairs, get Tammy (our boxer featured in the lovely early 1970s family portrait), and run outside. “No, you don’t get Tammy, you run outside.” I was dumbfounded.
Leave my dog? are you kidding me? my best friend in the whole world? “No, daddy, I will not leave this house without Tammy!”
“Yes you will, that is not safe! She’s just a dog, you run out of the house first!” This conversation went nowhere except with me wondering why we should leave a dog in a burning house…I can see me having the same discussion with my boys soon, although I will try to be a little more sympathetic and explain that we will TRY to rescue our dogs as we all run out safely together. Yes, I know that sounds unrealistic but if we’re making a plan, I’ll try to make an ideal plan which we of course can amend at the last minute…
Flash forward a few years to my Catholic upbringing in CCD class (aka Sunday school). We were talking about what heaven looks like and I raised my hand and talked about all the animals, especially dogs, that we’d see. My teacher was not happy with me. “No, dogs don’t go to heaven.”
My heart stopped. “What? Why not?”
My teacher emphatically told me “because dogs have no souls.”
The future attorney in me quickly countered. “But if God created us all, I don’t understand why we don’t all go to heaven. MY dog has a soul.” I had to blink back tears. But I was also pissed off at my teacher.
He didn’t have a good answer, but as a ten-year-old girl I felt strongly that I was right. That he had it ALL WRONG. Why was he teaching this class anyways?
Hopefully one day I will prove him right. I just hope he was nice to all the dogs in his life, because I hear karma can be a bitch 🙂
At times I can’t imagine how anyone could abandon a dog. I’ve heard so many stories about dogs being left on the side of the interstate, dropped off at vets and never reclaimed, and of course brought into animal shelters. I know many times there are good reasons, just like putting a child up for adoption. But I’d always wonder how you could just leave an animal somewhere like a parking lot? well that is what happened to my lovely Luna…
After Cato, my first Siberian husky, it took me a long time to think about another dog. We still had Solo who was a stray that was bottle fed from birth after being rescued by some loyal animal lovers who were trying to capture his stray mother. I was always drawn to the Siberian husky breed and realized I had become kind of a crazy husky person – yes even a guy at my local wine store called me the “husky lady” because I always asked about his husky who lived in our neighborhood. You could say I was sort of obsessed…
So after about 2 years I decided I was ready for another dog, and began looking for huskies. To be honest, it was very difficult at first. Even after I found Luna I experienced a definite high then low. Because it wasn’t Cato. I could never replace Cato. But that wasn’t the point.
Someone left Luna, a beautiful husky female in a Wal-Mart parking lot outside of Jackson, TN, 2 hours from Nashville. The shelter named her Lollipop because they just had run out of names after taking in so many dogs over the years. Earlier tonight, as a friend marveled at Luna’s beauty and calm nature, I relayed her story. I told her how the animal shelter found her, 10 pounds light then she is now, malnourished, and very skittish. We weren’t even sure she would work out after we brought her home because she fought with Solo over food and attention – it was obvious she was used to scrounging for food and wasn’t sure where her next meal was coming from. But as strange as this sounds – I should thank the person who left her. Because the person who left her obviously would NEVER have provided her with the life she deserved. Maybe they couldn’t afford a dog, who knows, but thank God that shelters like the Carroll County Humane Society exist.
It was a beautiful full moon the night we adopted Luna – January 24, 2008 – which is why we named her Luna. So tonight as I gaze at another beautiful full moon, I thank whoever left Luna and all the other dogs who have found loving homes. Our dogs all deserve better and now they’ve found it! I just wish there was a home for each and every one of them…
On my recent visit with my father who has been residing in a dementia specialty nursing home for several years, I realized that often we are kinder to our animals than to people. Although he is not in much physical pain, his quality of life is pretty much gone. I know that sounds harsh, but it’s true. Seeing men and women who can no longer hold a conversation, recognize loved ones or eat solid food is depressing, to say the least. So I should be glad that he and others don’t know what is going on around them. At times pet therapy does seem to help, and it is wonderful to see some sparks of recognition from other patients when dogs are brought in for visits.
I’m thankful that we never let our animals suffer in the same way. I have had to make the most difficult decision in my life twice – to put down my beloved Cato, and then 2 years later Solo Mio – and both times, as sad as it was, it was also a relief. I knew I was doing what was best for my dogs. It was my selfishness that told me to keep them alive, but my heart and mind (with the help of my husband) eventually won out and we knew the right thing to do.
It seems ironic that we would treat our human family members worse than we treat our pets. I don’t know the solution, but I know how difficult it is emotionally and financially to treat dementia and other Alzheimer’s-like diseases (most dementia care is NOT covered by Medicare until you need full-blown hospital type care). I remember hearing Nancy Reagan describe Alzheimer’s as “the long goodbye” and now I know why.
I have been round and round on my title but think I’ve landed on something. Since animal cruelty is obviously a difficult subject, I wanted a softer title that would grab attention but not scare people away. Going back to the impetus for my protagonist to become an animal cruelty officer – to prevent other abusers from evolving into full blown murderers or violent criminals – I think Warning Signs best describes Eden’s motivations. If we miss the early warning signs of animal cruelty, we may let another Jeffrey Dahmer or Columbine happen. Scary thought…
Just when I thought I was polishing an almost final draft of my query letter, I decided to post it online for some free critiques. I knew I’d receive lots of criticism – which I welcomed – but hadn’t thought that my title would be panned. But I think everyone is right. Just when I thought I was nearing the finish line to submission – bam!
So my title was Boys Will Be Boys – the history is that my lead character Eden Hayduke left the FBI to become an animal cruelty investigator with the ASPCA after the murder of her sister. Her sister’s murderer was her husband who began torturing animals as a child but his parents brushed aside his acts saying “boys will be boys.” Eden’s focus is to prevent another troubled teenager from evolving into a domestic abuser or worse a murderer. There’s also a twist re: the gender of one of the masterminds of the crimes.
Given the importance of the link between animal abuse and domestic and other abuse, I am trying out this new title – drum roll please…..Evolution of Cruelty…Thoughts?
My Edward Abbey reference is of course over the top, but stands for something to me. And Eden was the name we had picked out if we had a girl and since I didn’t get to use it in real life, I’m using it in fictional life 🙂 So here’s the opening chapter – what do you all think?
This was the part of her job that Eden always found unnerving. She would never get used to it, even with all her years as an animal cruelty investigator. At least this time she was called to the police station, so there was no mangled body to examine. Just photos.
The station was a flurry of activity. Eden wound her way through metal desks and gray-blue cubicles, following Lieutenant Harold Forrester to the back of the station. He led her to a solitary conference room where Eden would begin the grim task of reviewing images. Eden’s mind, which tended to translate things into music, was like a radio, tuned to Fréderic Chopin’s “Military Polonaise.” The rigid, formal work for the piano fit the mood and aura surrounding the lieutenant. He was all business.
“Cup of coffee? Soda?” asked Lieutenant Forrester.
“Sure. Anything cold and diet would be great.” Eden briefly glanced around as she threw her coat and purse onto the large conference table. The door creaked as Lieutenant
Forrester shut it behind them. Eden walked the perimeter of the faded room checking out the framed pictures, the usual mug shots of mayors and police chiefs.
Lieutenant Forrester brought over a drink and motioned for her to sit down. “So, are we ready to get started?”
Eden accepted the Diet Coke and popped the top. After all of these years, she still felt a rush of emotion when she started a new case. Viewing a dead body would never become routine. Eden’s empathy was both a flaw and a weapon. She took a sip. Procrastination time was over.
“I’m ready,” she said, and took a breath.
Lieutenant Forrester slid an overstuffed brown accordion folder across the table to her. The contents spilled out onto the wood surface worn from years of police use, the ribbed metal edge of the table discolored and cold to the touch. Eden rolled her chair forward and got to work.
The first photograph was always the hardest. This time it was a pug. As she studied the image she couldn’t help but think of her mother’s beloved pug, Farley, bouncing with life around their sun-drenched living room. But this animal had the life beaten out of him. Literally. Lieutenant Forrester, seemingly unfazed by the grisly business at hand, turned to Eden.
“We brought the ASPCA in on this case, Miss Hayduke, because we’re seeing a pattern. This is the third animal that’s been assaulted in the Wakefield Park neighborhood in the last twelve months. If it’s the same perpetrator, two or more attacks would qualify as a felony under the new animal cruelty law. So we sent officers out to investigate. We don’t have photos of the two earlier dogs, but we do have affidavits from the treating vet describing those injuries. We thought you could help us determine if this is a serial perpetrator, or just some deranged kids.”
The lifeless pup hung limply from a tree, just twenty feet off the newly opened greenway trail. A noose. Dried blood covering the dirt below. No matter how many times Eden saw images like these, she was always dumbfounded. How could anyone inflict such harm on a defenseless animal? The canine had obviously been used for batting practice. What kind of monster does this?
“This is the third case? I’m surprised I haven’t seen the stories on the local news. You know animal torture cases are usually great for TV ratings–” Eden tried to lighten up the mood, but struck out.
She hadn’t worked on an investigation before with Forrester. Although she’d been stationed in Nashville for a few years, her expertise pulled her into cases throughout Tennessee and the Southeast. Forrester had recently taken over animal cases after his predecessor left Nashville for bigger and better opportunities in Atlanta. Under prior leadership, the Nashville PD had always worked collaboratively with the ASPCA on their cases. Eden knew she needed to establish some rapport here or else their working lives would be miserable. He wasn’t giving her much opportunity. Their future looked bleak.
“This is the only dog that didn’t survive, Miss Hayduke. The others, both strays, were treated at the animal shelter. I don’t know if they’ve been placed yet, but I assume they’re still alive. We can probably get you more details from the vet over there, but we called the ASPCA in on the pug attack because it resulted in a fatality and we have the body as evidence. We’ll want to prosecute this one.” He paused, then added, “And, Miss Hayduke, if I may, there’s a reason you haven’t heard about these cases. We’re working closely with Councilman Jeff Saunders on this, and he feels it’s in the best interest of his neighborhood to work quietly. A big news story would cause alarm. We’d like to solve this problem quickly, before it becomes newsworthy.”
All-righty then. Most people would think that two tortured animals and one murdered dog were newsworthy. Why didn’t Lieutenant Forrester? And Eden found it strange that he didn’t know what happened to the two surviving dogs. They were walking evidence. Why no photos of those crime scenes? Technically, the ASPCA had been called in to help on the pug case, but these were all potentially related attacks.
Forrester was still waiting for Eden’s response. “Miss Hayduke, I hope you understand this must be kept out of the news.”
Eden refocused her thoughts. “That’s an affluent area, how did you keep residents from running to the media?”
“We attended a neighborhood meeting, hosted by Councilman Saunders, and instructed the residents to keep their eyes and ears open, and their mouths shut. We need to do our job without interference. That’s best for everyone, including the ASPCA.”
And good for property values.Wakefield Park was a hot spot for mixed-use development and soaring home prices. Although not completely gentrified, many of the Victorian homes had been restored and now tear-downs were becoming common. There were still some elderly residents who hadn’t renovated their homes, but Wakefield Park was one of the better zip codes in Nashville. For new money at least. Old money still ruled the city and occupied several zip codes on the west side of town.
“I understand, Lieutenant. Can I see the affidavits and police reports from the neighborhood interviews?” Another folder appeared and Eden started reading. Forrester continued his monologue.
“There’s an after-school program at a community center nearby, and there’s also the Diamond School a few blocks away. You know teenage truants are sent to Diamond after they’ve dropped out or been kicked out of other high schools. Fits the profile.”
Eden ignored his last comment. She was taking notes on her legal pad, sketching out a rough timeline of the crimes. Forrester kept talking.
“Did you know the high school dropout rate is now at thirty-nine percent in our city? Pathetic. So that’s where we’ve focused our attention. Juvenile delinquents. There’s a list of the students enrolled at Diamond in the bottom of that file.”
How predictable. Police investigators always assume the perpetrators come from neighborhoods other than their own. No way, not from my backyard. Here’s one more lieutenant falling into the classic trap – let’s point a finger somewhere else. Especially if there’s a handy profile to fall back on.
“Thanks, Lieutenant. I’ll look for those names. Do you also have a list of the young males living in the area? I’d suggest a two-mile radius for starters. You know the profile for most animal abusers is a young teenage Caucasian male.”
She paused, for further emphasis, then continued before Forrester had a chance to respond. “Someone with ties to the neighborhood is good, but someone who lives there is even better, given the number of cases in such a short timeframe. The crime log for the neighborhood beginning six months before the first attack would also be helpful. Sometimes you can see an escalating pattern.”
The schools in Wakefield Park are magnet schools, drawing students from all over the county. Parents from surrounding neighborhoods enter a lottery hoping their child will be chosen to attend the prestigious H.L. Monroe Elementary, Stratton Middle or Andrew Jackson High School. Eden hadn’t braved those battles yet. Life as a single woman, or single mother to her Siberian husky Buck, had its perks after all.
Forrester answered without emotion. “We’ll gather the crime log and those names and addresses and get them to you as soon as we can. Anything else?” It was becoming more difficult for him to conceal his irritation.
Indeed, Eden was flipping through the file looking for something else. Something she couldn’t find.
“What about blood and tissue samples? Were there any fingerprints on the rope? On the dog’s collar? Any specs on the weapon used in the killing? I’m just not seeing any forensics in here.”
Forrester shifted in his chair. “Miss Hayduke, that’s not the protocol I follow with this type of case. We take pictures and have the animal examined by Metro Animal Control. Dr. Gunter is the veterinarian. His report is in there. Any crime scene evidence is impounded and stored here at headquarters. We maintain a tight chain of custody to make sure nothing gets tainted. You’re free to examine anything you like, but everything you need is probably in Dr. Gunter’s report.”
“So, the officers didn’t take any samples at the scene? Are there any other test results you’re still waiting on?” Eden tried unsuccessfully to mask her frustration.
“That is the complete file, Miss Hayduke. I’ll have an officer double-check the evidence room, but don’t count on anything else popping up.”
“Okay. So it looks like I’ll start with these files and follow-up with Dr. Gunter. I’ll schedule time tomorrow to review the physical evidence, just in case one of your officers missed something.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Eden knew they were a mistake.
Forrester stared at her. He was not pleased with the implication that his men were not doing their job. “We’ll go through the physical evidence again, Miss Hayduke. Anything else?”
“No. Once I’ve reviewed everything I’ll start my interviews. I guess that’s it for now – thank you.”
Eden grabbed the folders and pushed away from the table. I’d love to stay longer but the company is just too charming.
“One more thing, Miss Hayduke. Please talk to Councilman Saunders before making the rounds in the area. He wants the heads-up. It’s his neighborhood and we need to keep things quiet.” Eden nodded in agreement.
“Contact my assistant if you need anything else.” Lieutenant Forrester headed out the conference room door, eager to work on bigger and better cases. Cases involving two-legged victims.
As she walked to her car, Eden decided impulsively to do a drive-by. It always helped her get a feeling for a new case if she took a drive past the crime scene. And she liked to walk the streets and soak in the neighborhood ambience. Pulling out of the police headquarters parking lot, she headed for the interstate. Wakefield Park was just a few exits away.
OK. Quick review. Why all the secrecy? Eden decided to take Forrester’s advice and set up a meeting with Councilman Saunders. She didn’t know much about Saunders, but she could probably get the scoop from her friend Jillian Gold, a well-connected lobbyist who seemed to know all the politicians in Nashville. She tried to reach Jillian but got her voicemail. Guess I’ll have to do my own homework.First the neighborhood, then Saunders. If his address was listed, she also wanted to drive by his house – sometimes she could learn a lot that way.
She found her exit. Hmm, a drive-by of Lieutenant Forrester’s house might be interesting. For now, she’d focus on Wakefield Park and the pug. She could learn more about Forrester later.
I have split my limited free time between fine tuning my synopsis and query letters for my mystery novel (Boys Will Be Boys) and doing genealogy research. So last night about 11:30 p.m. I found several links to the Sons of the American Revolution on my father’s (Murphy) side. Low and behold I may actually be a descendant of soldiers who fought for our independence in Maryland! So far I’ve found Ninian Beall and Jonathan Beall who each fought in Maryland – Ninian was my great great great great grandfather. Still trying to find Jonathan but he was a member in the SAR and related to Ninian. They (and by “they” I mean their wives!) were quite prolific and had lots of kids back then so the exact relationships are a little muddy. My great grandmother was a Beall who married a Murphy so I think it’s the right clan because they all stayed in the same area in Maryland. I grew up in Fairfax, Virginia just a few miles from where they fought and never knew it. Kind of a shame I wasn’t able to dig up this info until now, but still intriguing.
There was also a Colonel Ninian Beall from Scotland who was captured and sold into slavery in the late 1600s, shipped to Barbados, then trasnferred to Maryland. I think he may be the first Beall who came over but can’t find him on ancestry.com although with that name they must be related. Another family rumor was that my Murphy ancestors came over from Ireland as indentured servants very early in our country’s history (late 1600s or early 1700s). So if that’s all true, these poor Irish and Scottish folk started as servants and slaves, made a new life in our country and eventually fought for its independence. Pretty neat, especially learning this right before Veterans Day!
Don’t know much about the Daughters of the American Revolution but will definitely check it out now. The big bonus is I have a whole new area to research for my next novel! Just hope I can eventually track down the ship that my mother’s relatives traveled on when they left Ireland during the potato famine. They came through New York and made their way to Illinois where they’ve stayed for 150 years. I borrowed some names for characters in my novel from my mother’s side – Flanagan, which is the last name of several key characters, and Hannah.
Not sure what I have in common with some of these ancestors, and I can’t even imagine how life as a woman would have gone in those days. Maybe I’ll get lucky and find a crazy old aunt or cousin who rescued animals back in the pioneer days! Or was this passion for animals developed post-depression when families had enough food to eat and were able to take care of a pet? Probably the latter. Just thankful I live in modern times where women are able to be educated, and of course, have access to birth control 🙂
Ever since our golden retriever – Rudolph – was a puppy he has gotten into trouble. Here he is pretending to be a human child sitting in my son’s booster seat. He looks so innocent 🙂 Brief history of his problem: At age 3 months he had an endoscopy for swallowing whole a hot pink rubber centipede that he found in my son’s room. The problem is our doors do not shut well in this house so it is so hard to keep him away from things he shouldn’t chew, although believe me we try our best. Now at age 2 he can push open any door in the house with his nose, including our glass shower door which swings in and out. So he is never left alone in the house, but he somehow manages to slink away when we’re here and find something new, something unpredictable to chew on.
Last winter it was bike seats. Yes, he ATE my boys’ bike seats while still on the bike. Again, our fault, we left our bikes out under our porch during the winter since we don’t have a garage. He and my Siberian husky enjoy our fenced in yard a lot while we’re at work or away since we can’t leave them in the house or he’ll chew something. So now outside has to be kept free of toys as well. Impossible to do with 5 and 7 year old boys!
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. I find my new bar of lavender soap on my bedroom floor with tooth marks. No dog in sight. Since it was brand new I just decided to wash it off and put it back in the shower. Two days later it’s gone. My husband thought I threw it away, but nope. Later when we relayed this story to our friends over a few glasses of wine, Rudolph actually entered the family room and dropped a NEW bar of soap on the floor in front of us just as we were telling the story. SO is he brilliant and knew what we were saying?! He obviously was turning himself in. Guess he wasn’t too afraid of receiving any punishment. (He does sleep on our bed so may be a tad spoiled.)
Then again this week the soap disappears AGAIN. Ugh! Checked in with vet and there is no harm to him – he has been unphased with absolutely no evidence of stomach upset or digestive issues. Luckily we buy all natural soaps so there shouldn’t be too many chemicals in them.
So my question of the day is – what type of soap will he find unappealing????!!! And what’s the next item that I could never predict that he will chew???