We will miss you so, so much, Amina. Thank you for picking us and sharing your life with us.

Taken in February of this year.

October 2009. This one is one of my favorites.

At Barktoberfest (an annual reunion/fundraiser for the shelter where we adopted Amina), October 2009.

November 2008. Thanks to Natala Constantine for this great shot.

When we first met Amina at FOHA, May 1, 2005.

Last night, my family’s cat Sammy died. I still remember back in 1992 when Sammy came to us as a kitten for my sister’s birthday. Sammy was an independent cat early on who, though he interacted with people, was known to turn on a dime while you were petting him. In his later years, after my sister and I moved out, he changed quite a bit. Perhaps it was the addition of another cat to the household or the deaths of our dogs Bosco and Lady, but he became very affectionate towards people and significantly less grouchy.

He had some strange habits. He enjoyed “relations” with a stuffed dog and looked guilty when he was caught because of making too much noise. He also enjoyed vegetables — broccoli and even corn on the cob. I’m not an expert on cat behavior, but from what I understand, this is somewhat unique.

But for all his youthful attitude and strange habits, he was a really nice cat and I always looked forward to seeing him on trips home to visit the family. It’s hard to believe he was around for what’s half of my life, but he was and was happy and healthy up until a few months before his death.

We’ll miss you, Sam.

Here’s what I wrote the day it happened, just over two years ago:

Yesterday morning, when I was out walking the dog, we walked by a group of three dogs that were off leash, a Rottweiler, a black lab mix, and a smaller dog that I couldn’t identify.  I was a little curious, but they seemed to be sticking around one particular house, so I figured their guardian had just let them out.  They weren’t aggressive and didn’t even come over to sniff.

Last night, we were out again and we saw the dogs again, this time in the yard of a house on the opposite corner from ours.  They were running about, including out into the road, so obviously something was up.  I had my cell with me and called animal control (who I have stored in the phone because the need to call seems to come up every few months).  They were closed and their message seemed to indicate that if the dogs didn’t appear sick or dangerous, there wasn’t much else to do.

After we got back from our walk, I went across the road into another neighborhood where I remember seeing a sign about a lost black lab mix.  I called, but that family had already been reunited with their dog and just hadn’t removed the signs.

When I got back home, the pack was nowhere to be seen.  I went back inside, frustrated, and figured I’d call the next morning if I saw them again.

This morning, I ran an errand, talked to a neighbor about the dogs and thought about it all a bit more.  Something weird was going on.  Last night, they were hanging out in the front yard of the house near ours.  I saw them run towards a man walking past and bark at him, which seemed to shake him up a little, but they didn’t attack him.  It just seemed like they were defending their territory.  I think that these three dogs live in that house, which was just recently moved into by the new owners.  Usually there were some dogs in the backyard, but I hadn’t heard them bark recently.  Plus, the house’s front lawn was getting to be very overgrown.  It’s like they hadn’t been there in quite a while.  Had they left the dogs to fend for themselves?  Did they leave overnight and just forget to lock the gate?  It wasn’t clear.

When I got back from my errand, a cop car pulled up to the house.  The officer got out of the car, walked into the front yard towards the three dogs who were laying there.  They got up and came at him, barking like the did at the man the night before.  The cop got freaked out.  He reached in his holster, pulled out his pistol, and then POP.

The dogs (two of them or possible all three, I’m not sure) scurried around the house.  I could hear a loud, painful crying and whimpering that ended a minute or so later.  The cop stood in the front yard, looking a bit stunned, and then called in backup.

A kid across the street saw it happen and yelled out to a friend down the street, “I think a cop just popped a cap in that dog!”  I watched the whole thing unfold from my front porch, not being able to shake that sound of the dog crying.

A few minutes later, more police and animal control showed up.  The woman from animal control carried the limp body of what looked like the black lab to her van.  I didn’t see the other two dogs.

I held out a small bit of hope that maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t a pistol he had pulled.  Maybe it was a tranquilizer.  But as I left for work a few minutes later, I saw the cops in the overgrown front yard with a metal detector, trying to find the shell casing.

I’m really angry by the way things went down.  First of all, how come animal control isn’t on call after 5pm?  If they had been able to help when I called the night before, this wouldn’t have happened.  Secondly, where the heck are the owners of that house?  Why would a brand new family leave a yard to get completely overgrown and leave behind their three dogs?  Lastly, and most frustratingly, why did the cop shoot the dog?  It was absolutely unnecessary.  Of course they got up and barked at him, he approached them, infringing on their territory.  Why didn’t he just call over to them from a safe distance?  Or call in for backup?  It was three dogs he was dealing with, what made him think he could deal with it on his own, even if they were completely docile?  Should an officer that’s that skittish around dogs really be the one to go on that type of call?

I’m going to talk to another neighbor that I saw talking with the cops and try to find out the full story.  If everything turned out the way it appeared to, I’ll be writing a letter to the police department about the way it went down.

I keep replaying the situation in my head.  There’s no reason it had happen like that.

Later that day, I wrote this:

I talked to my neighbor tonight and she filled me in, letting me know that yes, indeed, the lab was killed by the bullet. In addition, the bullet went through the lab (the oldest of the three) and grazed the smallest dog. Thankfully, the small dog is back at home, recovering, after a visit to the emergency room. It may have been the small dog that I heard wimpering, but I don’t think so.

Apparently the dogs have been digging holes under the fence and have gotten out frequently over the last few weeks. Animal control’s been there a number of times. Everytime the family there fills the holes, the dogs dig them back out again.

After I talked with my neighbor and got some more information, I went over and talked to the man himself, who was out in front of his house. He told me that the police seargent told him that the two large dogs “lunged” at the officer and that the officer didn’t even have time to get the gun fully aimed after he pulled it out of the holster.

As a recap:

• From my vantage point, the officer made no attempt to call to the dogs. He walked directly at them, on their property.
• Though the dogs did get up and come at him (and may have been barking, I can’t remember), I saw no evidence that they were lunging. What I saw was the officer back up, get nervous, pull his gun, point, and shoot.
• Even if they did come at him agressively, he was approaching them on their property; shouldn’t he have been prepared to use non-lethal force, like his baton or mace? Aren’t police trained in this?

I’m also still confused why one cop was sent to handle three dogs and why he didn’t just wait for animal control to arrive since these dogs were doing nothing but laying in their own front yard.

This was the first time I’ve met this particular neighbor. While I’m downright angry at the way the situation went down, he seemed more stunned and saddened, just trying to make sense of it all. He told me about going to see his dog one last time and get his collar. He said he noticed that the bullet went in the dog’s side, near his rear leg, which seemed like a strange place if the dog was indeed lunging. He showed me the bloodstains on the ground and the spray paint marking where the bullet casing was found (the cops didn’t find it with their metal detector, he found it).

I gave him my name and number and let him know I’d be happy to help if he was going to file a complaint or press charges.

As I was walking Amina tonight and I thought about the pain this guy must be feeling at the loss of his friend, I thought that maybe there was a reason I locked myself out of my house today. Though nothing will bring his dog back, I hope he can get some sort of resolution to this.

Something I didn’t mention in the update is that when I was talking with the man in his front yard, I had Amina with me. As we were talking, I looked down and her tail was between her legs and she was shaking, something that doesn’t happen unless something’s spooked her. It was clear she could sense something bad had happened there — maybe she could smell the other dog’s blood on the ground — and she didn’t want to stick around.

The days following the shooting were very tense and stressful. I talked to a reporter from the local paper and spoke out (anonymously) about what happened. The feedback on the paper’s site was half “I can’t believe the cop did that!” the other half cheering the cop on and saying that I was full of crap despite the fact I witnessed it. A number of times, I looked out my front door and saw a cop car parked there, the officer staring at my house and taking notes. I spoke with an animal control officer, who was conducting an investigation for his office.

Eventually, the policeman who I saw outside my house on numerous occasions came to the door. I stepped out onto the porch and spoke with him. He was in charge of the police’s internal investigation and wanted to get my side of the story. I told him everything, as I did the newspaper and the animal control officer. The cop spent a lot of the time defending his fellow officer, almost like he was trying to convince me the shooting was justified. He showed me how much more difficult it is to pull the mace from a holster compared to the gun. He was friendly about it all and didn’t come off as intimidating, but I still came away from the conversation feeling pessimistic about how things would turn out.

Weeks passed, and nothing. No news in the paper, no calls from police or animal control. The neighbor decided not to press charges after he found out the most he’d be able to get out of it was $80 for the “value” of his dog and possibly reimbursement for cleaning blood off of his carpet. I eventually found out from speaking with another neighbor that the police had completed their internal investigation and found the officer was in the right. No action would be taken against the officer.

Big surprise.

Even though this happened over two years ago, the event still weighs on my mind. I’ve found myself scowling as police drive by and haven’t called animal control since then (rather, I’ve done a few catch-and-returns on my own). When I see an officer, I think to myself, “Is that the guy that shot the dog? Is he the one who fired a pistol with a kid only 20 feet away?” And I’ve lost a lot of faith in neighbors who feel that shooting a dog point blank is justified just because he’d escaped his yard and had been wandering the neighborhood.

I understand that police work is dangerous and I know that an aggressive dog, just like an aggressive human, may need to be subdued. But I sincerely hope that officers are receiving better training about how to deal with groups of animals (don’t try to handle them alone, don’t approach them on their property, use non-lethal force, etc.). Sadly, I suspect this is not the case.

(via failblog)

Before beginning the drive, Mitt Romney put Seamus, the family’s hulking Irish setter, in a dog carrier and attached it to the station wagon’s roof rack. He’d built a windshield for the carrier, to make the ride more comfortable for the dog.

I echo Chris’ sentiment of “WTF?”  Who the heck puts their dog on the roof of their car?  And we’re supposed to be all “Wow, he’s so caring about his dog!” when he builds a windshield for the carrier?

Here’s some news for Romney: dude, your dog isn’t a piece of luggage.  If the family were to get into a car accident, the dog wouldn’t stand a chance.  At least inside the car he has the protection of the vehicle’s frame.  What if the carrier came loose and fell off the car?  Again, the dog has no chance.

This is just another example of “animals as property” that so pervades our lives.  To Romney, the family dog isn’t worth space in the car.  Having him dangerously perched on the roof as they fly down the roads at 65mph is a risk that’s reasonable to him.  Would he consider that same risk with his kids?  Of course not.

Want another example of how Seamus gets treated as property?  OK.

A brown liquid was dripping down the back window, payback from an Irish setter who’d been riding on the roof in the wind for hours.

As the rest of the boys joined in the howls of disgust, Romney coolly pulled off the highway and into a service station. There, he borrowed a hose, washed down Seamus and the car, then hopped back onto the highway. It was a tiny preview of a trait he would grow famous for in business: emotion-free crisis management.

Animals rarely get much respect from the oval office.  Sure, President Bush’s dog Barney gets a nicer home page than most people have, but he’s also used to create stupid White House promotional videos.  Then, of course, there’s the debacle that is the presidential turkey pardon at Thanksgiving.  But if Romney were to become president, Seamus would be the worst-treated First Dog since Warren G. Harding’s lab named Seat Cushion.  (That last sentence was said in a manner imitating Jon Stewart.  Imagine me looking coyly at the camera.)

How you treat animals is usually a good indicator of how you treat people.  Perhaps we should keep that in mind when looking at presidential candidates.

It started about two weeks ago when I saw a nearby dog named Bandit wandering around. Fortunately, he let me come right up to him and put a leash on him. He was also wearing a tag, which made it easy to get in touch with his caretaker, who didn’t even realize he had escaped. (Here’s a shot of us hanging out before we could get in touch.) “Bandit never does this,” he told me. “If he gets out of the backyard, he usually just sits on the front step.”

A week later, Bandit escaped again. This time my sister saw him and returned him home (no one was even home at his house at the time).

Last night, I was walking Amina and an tiny, older mutt was loose. I found out where he lived even though he only had a non-identifying rabies tag on. The woman there had no idea he had even gotten out. “He’s never done this before,” she told me. I nodded and suggested she consider getting him an ID tag, just in case.

This morning, for the first time in the 16 months she’s lived with us, Amina forced her way past me and bolted out the front door. I freaked out and yelled to her, which only made her keep running. So I took a deep breath and slowly followed. She had already gotten halfway down the block and visions of her getting hit by a car or running where I couldn’t find her had already entered my head. I kneeled down and called to her and offered her a treat (which I didn’t really have) and she came back, thankfully. But it’s really weird, because it’s totally against her normal personality to do something like that.

So, dogs, if any of you are reading this (including you, miss Amina!), cut it out. Stop running away.

It’s become commonplace for us to wake up at 7am to the sounds of very loud squawking from the birds when they’ve been put in the backyard. We don’t really mind it, and kind of laugh because the sound is so out of place in our neighborhood. In fact, I can only imagine how much it annoys the idiot down the street, so sometimes I’m glad they’re there.

From what I’ve heard, though, the family is having a really tough time. They don’t know what to do with the birds. The birds make the noise in the house, too, which is not really conducive to babies sleeping. And I’m sure that these tropical birds aren’t terribly enjoying Virginia, though I’m sure it’s been warm enough for them here recently. I’d like to be able to help them out (the birds and the family) by helping them find a humane way of getting the birds relocated. The birds seem like they’re well taken care of, but I’d rather make sure that they get the chance to live somewhere more appropriate before their current guardians get frustrated and perhaps do something that wouldn’t be in the birds’ best interest.

Does anyone have any experience with any specific bird rescue organizations? Phoenix Landing or Rescue Me seem like good options. Any other ideas?

Well, today I had an “encounter” with Mr. Dog Hater himself. Amina and I were coming back down our street and he was walking out to his car to go to work. He looked down the street and saw us coming and just stood at the edge of his driveway waiting for us. Staring our way and just… waiting.

As I approached him, I gave him a friendly, “Good morning!” and didn’t expect a reply, just the usual hateful glare. Well, this time I got a reply, though not exactly a courteous one:

“Some dog’s been shitting in my yard.”

*blink*

“Some dog’s been shitting here and I’m going to fucking kill the dog.”

I stopped, said, “Well…” and pulled out one of Amina’s empty bags to show him that, yes, we are responsible for our dog’s left-behinds. He said, “I’m not saying it was you. But some dog’s been shitting in my yard. And I’m going to kill the dog once I find out who it is.”

He paused.

“Do you know who it is?” By this time, he’s walking to his car across the street.

I could go into a tirade telling him he needs to chill the hell out, but I’m honestly shaken up — this guy is a freaking loon. “No clue. But I’ve seen it in my yard, too,” hoping maybe that’ll show him that not everyone in the world threatens death to get their way.

He replied, “I think I know who it is. I just need to catch him. And then I’m going to kill the dog.”

Well good morning to you, too, mister. Nice to know we have such a psycho neighbor on the block.

Needless to say, we’ll be avoiding his house altogether. And if anything happens to another dog, now I can serve as a witness of some sort.

What a jerk.

I’m writing in response to the “Aid pours in for dogs rescued from kennel” article that ran on February 24th, 2006.

It’s touching to see that so much aid and support has poured in for the dogs rescued from an allegedly abusive and neglectful breeder. I’m thankful there are so many people willing to help companion animals in need.

However, I was disheartened to see that the article also featured a list of ways to “Pick a Good Breeder.” Much more appropriate would have been a list of “Reasons to Adopt Rather than Buy from a Breeder,” especially considering the nature of the piece.

Every year, millions of dogs in the United States are killed because there simply aren’t enough people to care for them or enough room in shelters to house them. Often, strays and lost dogs are picked up, kept at a shelter for seven days, and if no one claims them, they are killed to make room for more animals.

Surely, there are good and ethical breeders, but because of the sheer number of surplus dogs that are killed, there is simply no justification for purchasing from a breeder or, even worse, a pet store. If someone is looking to bring a companion animal into their lives, they should adopt from a shelter or rescue organization. Petfinder.com can help in the search for a specific breed, if that’s an important consideration.

Perhaps when the pet population comes under control, buying from breeders will be an ethical choice. But for now, it’s vitally important we save the animals that most need our help.

Ryan MacMichael

But, it was great to see Jasmine again. She was doing really well and was clearly well loved. It was also a little weird — kind of like being with your wife and bumping into your ex-girlfriend; you hope she’s doing well and it’s good to see her, but there’s that weird two-worlds-colliding thing going on. Jasmine sat by me and was loving the head scratching and Amina only got mildly jealous, so it went well.

Something else I realized is that there seems to be an unspoken bond between people who rescue animals. Shortly after we adopted Amina, she and I were walking and a man asked us about her. When I said she was a rescue, he said, “Thank you. Thank you for doing that.” Turns out he lived with a couple of rescued German Shepherds.

Every so often I visit the FOHA site to see how some of the other dogs are doing. At this point, there aren’t too many names left that I recognize from our visit, but there are a few. JoJo, an older female Rottweiler that totally had my heart the first time I saw her, is still there. I doubt she’ll be adopted because of her age and health issues, but she’s being fostered, so at least she has a nice temporary home. Thankfully, every dog or cat that finds their way to FOHA gets the respect they deserve, even if they aren’t adopted right away.

(I realize this post was all over the place, but that’s what happens when I try and write something over the course of eight hours.)

A few months back, a guy a few doors down threatened to a kill a man’s dog because he mistook the man for one who doesn’t pick up after his dog. Cops were called, there was a whole thing. Shortly thereafter these signs went up.

Sure enough, just walking by this guy’s house with your dog gets him glaring at you like you’re the one about to squat in his yard and leave it.

I get annoyed when people don’t clean up after their dogs, but it takes a special kind of person to threaten death.

This sentence caught my eye:

… the sweet-as-can-be pit bulls, a breed that Loudoun, like many jurisdictions, forbids shelters from making available for adoption.

Hm… is it only shelters that aren’t allowed to make them available for adoption? The organization we adopted our dog from regularly adopts out pit bulls. In any event, the idea of banning a whole breed from adoption is a bit short-sighted. I’ve met quite a few really sweet pits… there’s no reason they should have been euthanized (and, thankfully, they weren’t).

I really wish the public would become more aware at just how deep the problem is for companion animals and the people that are forced to kill them. I hope articles like this will help spread the word.

So, I won’t attempt to. Instead, I’ll just encourage you to donate some time or money to Noah’s Wish or the HSUS. Don’t forget about the members of the families that had to be left behind.

Also, please read some thoughts from other bloggers who verbalize what I’m thinking better than I can at the moment:

• Almost Vegan: No Food Today
• An Animal-Friendly Life: Hurricane Katrina and the Animals
• Herbivore: The Other Victims of Katrina
• Vegan Chai: Katrina’s Snowballs
• Vegan.com: Erik’s Diner: September 1, 2005 (podcast)

I also want to remind you not to forget your local charities. Non-relief charities were hit particularly hard after September 11th and the tsunami as most of people’s charitable giving was directed at relief efforts. I suspect the same will hold true with this disaster.

The report: they’re well worth the money. As promised, their dark color hides the contents of the bag. For all anyone knows, I’m carrying a small lunch treat with me as I walk the dog. Also as promised, they help keep the smell in. When sealed tightly and tied off, there is almost no odor, even within a few inches of the bag. I was a bit scared to confirm this, but I’m glad I did.

It may be tough to justify in your mind spending money on bags when you probably get plenty from grocery shopping, but trust me: there’s a world of difference. So recycle those plastic bags and pick up some Oops I Pooped for your favorite four-legged friend.