Sad about Paco

Today I woke up crying. I really miss Paco. The more dogs I look at, the more I realize what a unique dog he really was.

I never told him, but when Paco was alive I'd occasionally cruise Petfinder. It was harmless, of course, but sometimes I'd find a cool dog and I'd start cursing Paco's existence. "If I only didn't have Paco, then I would totally own that dog," I'd say.

It was the strongest when I met Hector, which coincided with Paco's knee surgery. Like a bad affair, every day I'd leave Paco crated at home, say my goodbyes, then go pick up Hector and take him to work or for a walk around the lake. I'd drop him off before I got home, but Paco always knew. Jealously he'd sniff me up and down, his pupils getting large and the whites of his eyes showing. I would try and explain myself, "but he's giving me something you can't. If you could walk then it would be different and I wouldn't have to see other dogs."

But now that Paco's gone and I have the opportunity to choose any dog in the world, not a single one appeals to me, not even Hector. I'll try and visualize myself with each dog I see, and I don't like the result. It just doesn't seem right. And then I start to miss Paco even more.

The Puppy Mill Wars

So Paco Collars has a company policy that we do not allow stores who sell puppies or kittens to carry our products. It's been a policy forever, but today it was finally put to the test.

First came the inquiry e-mail:

"We are a store called Pawsh Puppies Inc. in Chicago and would like to carry
your products. Please email us a wholesale catalog and pricing information.
Thanks!"

So I sent them our standard form letter that includes a link to our catalog, which in turn outlines our company policies, including the one that states:

"-- we do not allow stores who sell animals to carry our products (puppy mills=bad)"

The e-mail then appears to have been forwarded on to someone with a different e-mail address than the original writer and the response is:

"We are going to carry live puppies for sale that we buy directly from quality breeders, nothing to do with puppy mills at all.
So we can’t carry your products then?"

Me:
"Send me the link to the breeder kennels and let me check them out. "

Them
"Sure. They are the best around.
http://www.pickmepuppies.com"

Go ahead and click it... I know you want to!

So, after some careful deliberation, I wrote back:
"Alex

I'm sorry, but that would violate our policy.

They are a puppy mill. No reputable breeder would have three litters in a month, sell puppies to a store at 8 weeks of age, or make up their own dog breeds. Not to mention there is no proof of OFA testing, any titles or achievements.

They may be the best at what they do, but it is still not in the best interest of the animals and we cannot support that.

-- ana poe
www.pacocollars.com"

It's funny because back when we first made the policy I never actually thought we'd have to defend it, but now I am glad we had it in place. If we can make one store open its eyes then it's worth the lost revenue.

Target

This is what happens when you let me and Carolyn loose at Target.

First, you try on stupid hats...

... oggle things meant for children...

... and then you come home with underpants for your dog.

Blind Date

Yesterday we piled into the Mercedes, Xochitl assumed her favorite spot in the car, and we headed across the bridge and out of town.

The reason for the trip was to go meet "Casper", a dog we spotted on Petfinder last week. I've been cruising the site somewhat obsessively the past two weeks and he was one of the few profiles that invoked the response of, "That's him!" (and the only "that's him!" that actually turned out to be a male dog).

On paper and in pictures Casper was perfect. With a face somewhere between Paco and Honky Tonk, he stood on long legs and was pure white. Not normally awestruck by white animals, this guy broke my prejudices and forced me to acknowledge his sheer beauty. As a friend said, when I sent the picture along, "He looks like an inverse of Paco!" The description told the tale of a dog who loved everyone, including other dogs, and enjoyed car rides.

I began e-mailing furiously, though I understood there may be a delay since the rescue center was moving to a new location that exact weekend.

But by noon the next day I couldn't wait any longer, so I called. The resulting phone conversation was scattered, which was to be expected as they were still moving their operation, but I managed to explain our wants/needs/desires in a pet dog and left with a string of promises to photograph and cat test the dog.

Confident we'd found a true contender, I finally spilled the beans to my friends. I kept perusing the internet and visiting shelters, but suddenly every dog was a comparison to Casper. I knew it was bad, but I couldn't help it. Still awaiting pictures, we planned a trip to Fresno that weekend.

The drive down was so exciting. I exchanged texts with friends and Aaron and I made bets ("Okay, whoever can name-that-band first gets to rename Casper"). Located near the Fresno river, the landscape was beautiful in that Central Californian agrarian style. The orchards went on for what seemed like forever, and then they ended and there was the house.

Instantly I could see why we had never received pictures of Casper. The rescue was essentially a solo operation: there was one woman and thirty dogs. The chain link enclosures were small and the ground had turned to mud from the recent rain. The dogs were barking like mad, every one obese from lack of exercise, filthy from mud and, sometimes, feces. We walked the gauntlet to Casper's pen and there he was...

It's like when you go on a blind date and it turns out their profile picture was taken ten years and ten pounds ago. This was not the dog from the picture.

As we spent time with him out on the lawn, it was evident this wasn't going to work out. Yes, he was pent up, that's normal when you spend 23 4/5 hours a day in a small pen. However, that doesn't excuse a hard-mouthed correction.

Case in point, after we put Casper back we toured the rest of the dogs. I found one I fell in love with, though he would never work out in our house (too much prey drive). We took him out for fun anyhow. This dog had about 4 times the drive of Casper, was about 8 times as smart, and when he put his mouth on me a) it was gently and b) he cut it out when I told him to. By the way, this dog has papers if you're interested:

We left Fresno a little disappointed but also relieved. After the visit we had a much more firm understanding of what we want, what we don't want, and what kind of pre-adoption circumstance (ie. foster) is more favorable. Casper was instrumental in assisting those conversations. Even though he didn't come home with us, we still did play the "what if" game and fulfilled the bet...

"I'd name him 'The Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man'"

"No, Baby Beluga"

The hunt is on...

So we're officially looking for the "new Paco." It's not that I think Paco is replaceable since, obviously, that's impossible. But the fact remains that I need another dog in my life eventually.

I first got a dog when I moved to Oakland. My freshman year of college I'd had a bad experience where I was nearly raped. I managed to talk my way out of it at the time but, after that, made it a point to never walk alone at night. Come my senior year when I made the move to Oakland, I decided it was time to stop relying on human escorts and get myself a dog. Always an animal husbandry nerd at heart (not that my 11 years in 4-H prove that or anything), I quickly picked up some reading material and studied up on dogs. I read the book "How to Deal With Your Dog's Adolescence" on the hunch that, if a dog's adolescence was a fraction as terrible as human adolescence, then I'd be prepared for the worst.

Armed with my new knowledge, I marched down to the Oakland Animal Shelter and returned home with Ajax, a young mixed breed puppy who grew up to look and act like a Cattle Dog/Chow cross. She was an awesome dog and she (and her tennis ball) accompanied me everywhere.

In the year 2000 I hit the road in a van to travel across country, Ajax in tow. The first couple months were great, and then we ran out of money. And then the van broke down. So that's how I ended up stranded in Georgia for 6 months.

During that time, Ajax hit two years old and developed epilepsy. I was homesick beyond belief but refused to go home unless Ajax could come. Finally, my friend Amy called to say she'd be making a road trip back east to visit a few friends before the semester began, and she was willing to drive down to Atlanta and rescue me and Ajax. I was so elated, but then my traveling companion (who had been a boyfriend at one point... we'd broken up quite early on in the adventure but remained on good terms) broke the horrible truth to me: I was about to return to the Bay Area with no home or job lined up. Ajax needed to be on a constant stream of phenobarbitol to regulate her condition. He had a house with 1/4 acre of property, a job, and Sherman, his puppy who thought the world revolved around Ajax.

It broke my heart, but I did what was best for Ajax and left her behind in Georgia (she died a year later from a massive seizure).

Upon returning to the Bay Area I got a job at a dog day care to fill that void Ajax left behind, but being around dogs every day just made things worse. It took a while since I, literally, had to start from ground zero (I applied for the job with a handwritten resume and $2.60 in my bank account), but I eventually saved up enough money to get my own place, one where I could have a dog. And that's when I met Paco.

Fast forward many years and I now find myself without a dog again. And it feels weird.

When I was little I had a fantasy of what having a dog would be like. I imagined myself hopping in a large pick-up, my trusty dog jumping on the bench seat beside me, and off we'd go, feeding the horses and patrolling the ranch together. As I went about my daily life my dog would be there acting as a trusty sidekick. And at night we'd cuddle up by the fire.

Of course, in real life I do not live on a ranch. While Ajax would have been perfect in that setting, Paco was the perfect urban sidekick. They may be allergic to everything in nature, thus making them ill-fitted for ranch life, but I think pit bulls are perfect for the urban environment. Since I'm committed to staying in the city for a while longer, I want to find another pit bull who can be that go-everywhere-buddy for me.

I know it's just a matter of time...

-----------------------------------------------------

Paco demonstrates just one of the many duties of an urban ranch dog: clearing the territory of varmints (in this case, Prop 8 supporters).

Breaking the fast

Today was Day 5 of the cleanse and tonight we broke the fast with vegetable soup.

The original plan was to go a week, but as the weekend approached and the possibility of attending the Grilled Cheese Invitational approached, we knew we had to break the fast in order to enjoy the weekend. So we hit the store around closing time, grabbed some veggies, and made a simple soup to ease our stomachs back to the land of the eating.

Two years ago I did the master cleanse for a week and, I gotta say, this time was much easier. True, I did get so spacey that I forgot how to do math for a day and, another day, Tim got so worried he insisted on driving me home, but overall it was pretty tame. Somehow the hunger never got in the way of what I was doing. It was a constant dull thud in the background, kind of like a little friend you forget about until he taps you one the shoulder and you remember he's there.

Last night we saw Slumdog Millionaire and somehow the occasional hunger pang made the acts performed for sheer survival in the movie seem normal. It's hard to imagine what real hunger feels like. Even on the cleanse you have a constant supply of lemonade, water, and Smooth Move (dinner!), but to go without anything for days is a sensation completely outside of my bodily vocabulary. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I'd rather it be that way. But now I'm also convinced it may be a good idea to do the cleanse and/or fast more often just to remind myself I'm human.

We'll see how that goes. And, in the meantime...

Quietly Cleansing

So today is Day 1 of the master cleanse.

We were supposed to start after we returned from Mexico, but then business trips and Xolo showers got in the way. We had finally settled on a firm start date and then Paco died. Not wanting to forcibly add more discomfort to the situation, we postponed again. But today we started the cleanse with no fanfare.

It's funny because normally this would be somewhat of a focal point in my day-to-day life, but if feels like a side note. There are so many other, much more important things going on that it's pretty much an aferthought. Granted, Day 1 is probably the easiest day, but right now it just feels like a dull thud, which essentially mimics my mindset.

It's funny how hunger and mourning are the same. One is physical and one is mental, but they're both based on loss. They both teach you to value what you have, not take things for granted, and suddenly you experience life with heightened senses. But only one requires a saltwater flush...