Saturday, July 18, 2015

Goodbye Emily, The Best Beagle Ever


A little over 13 years ago I was driving home from shopping when I spied a sign posted on a driveway that read “Beagle Puppies.” I was not in the market for a dog at the time but my friend Christine had been searching and a beagle was her first choice. I called her when I arrived home, told her of the sign and left it at that. She sounded tired and I didn't think she would be looking any more that day.

About mid-afternoon I was out in the yard doing what I did best at that time, digging a hole. I used to love to dig holes in my yard, it was great therapy. As I was digging, Christine pulled her car into my driveway and I could see her smiling from ear to ear. She got out of the car and walked over to me. Cradled in her arms was the most beautiful little beagle puppy I had ever seen. So tiny and precious this little ball of fur fit perfectly into my cupped hands.

Emily the Beagle as you can tell owns a special place in my heart. Even though she was not mine I had a connection to this wonderful dog like no other animal. She had wandered off the property several weeks after her arrival and her family and I were in a state of panic. We enlisted the help of neighbors who went scurrying about and we searched frantically for what seemed like hours with no luck. As dusk was setting in I ventured into the horse field adjacent to the property and saw Emily trying to find her way back. Like some ridiculous Disney movie, I called to her and she came running to me as I ran to her. (I swear to god this is the truth). I picked her up and carried her back to her yard, and that's when I believe we became best friends.

Emily the Beagle had lots of friends in her life, there was Abbey who lived next door, a wonderful lab that she looked up to like a big sister, Sir Cedrick of Cornwall a feisty little dachsund who she played with on special visits, Mugsy Rose a tough guy who lived down the street but thought Emily was just the greatest thing and her newest friend Iko the pug who was like an annoying little brother that she couldn't do without. They were her dog friends and they were good friends to her. But Emily had human friends too.

Christine and Paul were her world, she went everywhere and did everything with them. She waited at the door for them when they couldn't bring her with them and danced the beagle dance of joy when they got home. She was faithful beyond expectation as proved when she would not leave leave Christine's side during a serious illness, I am sure it was that devotion that helped in Christine's miraculous recovery. She loved Sam and Will who she watched grow from teenagers to two of the finest young men you would ever have the pleasure to meet.

The Roses were favorites of hers as well as Judy (owner of Sir Cedrick of Cornwall), Mike Droblish who cared for her when she couldn't go on a particular trip and of course Karen, Maureen and Caroline. But Emily the Beagle was one of my best friends. I never dog sat for Emily, that would mean she was a pet. We had sleep-overs, because that's what best friends do. I never walked Emily, we went for walks, because that's what you do with a friend. I never pet Emily, I mushed her because she loved it. Not like that nasty Franklin the Bad Beagle who almost took my nose off because I made the mistake of thinking all beagles were like Emily. How could I ever had made that mistake? All beagles are not like Emily.

Christine and Paul had to make the hardest decision they could today, almost 13 years to the day that Emily and I became best friends. I went to see her this afternoon so that I could mush her one last time, to whisper in her ear that I loved her, and to spend a few minutes remembering why this wonderful animal who brought nothing but joy to everyone she met was my friend. 

Emily went to sleep today and a little part of me went to sleep with her.

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Road Trip...America the Filthy


Today I became one of the projected 42 million Americans to venture out onto our nations highways this Fourth of July weekend. I can not believe that I am the only one of those 42 million travellers who is horrified by what I've seen. We are a country of energy saving, recycling, all natural zealots who continue to throw trash on our roadways and treat others personal property like it was there own personal port-a-potty.

Travelling south on Route 81 in Pennsylvania I was astounded to see paper goods, plastic bottles, trash bags, tires, electronic devices and furniture strewn about the highway. Yes furniture, which to this day still boggles my mind. There actually has to be a conscious effort to drop a piece of furniture along side of the road. “Hey Zeke, I think we should drop that there recliner by exit 44, I don't want to go to no dump, smells too much like home”!

I can understand the occasional paper cup or piece of paper flying out of the back of a truck but this is much more than that. The amount of trash I saw was not randomly flying out of a truck, it had to be thrown from moving vehicles.

But that's not the half of it!

After four hours of driving I had to stop and use the facilities. Big mistake, because the same slobs who think its alright to litter their way across the county also have to use the facilities. Honest to god I would have been better off peeing in Chernobyl. The rest stop at the Harrisburg Visitors Center looked like the aftermath of a tsunami. Water (I hope), toilet paper, diapers, food containers and bottle were strewn about so as to create a lavatory obstacle course.

So I ask this question. Who are you? Please, I would like to know because I would like to do something that is absolutely foreign to you.

I want to come, see where you live and clean it. Yes, I want to clean your living space. I want to wash it, disinfect it, vacuum it and then make you sit in the middle of all the trash I have collected from your home. I want you to wallow in it like a pig in mud. Then I want to take you to the Harrisburg Visitors Center rest room and make you clean it because the people who are hired to maintain those facilities do not deserve to have to clean your filth.

I love taking road trips. Driving for hours on end allows ones mind to wander and let's me fantasize that I still can play short stop for the Yankees. I am disheartened when the simple things in life are interrupted by the horrors of peoples filth. I don't want to feel dirty coming out of a rest room.

I know anyone reading this is not a likely to be throwing trash out of their car window or soiling a rest stop and I know this is a weekend where we are supposed to celebrating our nations independence. But I guess there are those who consider independence as being able to do whatever you want to do whenever you want to do it, and that includes making the rest of us live in disgust of your filth.

Not to sound like Mr. Peabody and Sherman, but way back there used to be a commercial of an American Indian standing on the highway with a tear running down his cheek looking at the garbage along the roadways. As a kid, I never really grasped the concept, but now looking back I understand the meaning of that commercial.

My road trip continues tomorrow with a five hour ride along Route 95 into North Carolina. Maybe if I'm lucky I can pick up that sectional that I've been looking for. I also plan on holding it in until I look like I have jaundice.