Things Work .... Until The Day They Don't

I live in a rural area with horse farms and corn fields and little stands that sell eggs and tomatoes. It is not uncommon to see dogs running loose … and not uncommon to see them on the side of road dead.

My neighbor has a Jack Russell (no, it is NOT a Parson - it is one of those short legged Jacks). For years, this little guy would “visit” my house and kennel and, much to his delight, torment my Poodle kids. For years, I have collected this dog from various points on my property and carried him down to my neighbor’s home and deposited him into her arms. For years, she has told me to stop bringing him home because he always comes back on his own. For years, I have tried to explain how her Jack was the equivalent of a schoolyard bully - and my Poodles were the nerdy, weak kids - but, nothing, nada, zip, would stop my neighbor from opening up her front door and letting little Jack out at his liberty. About two months ago, however, he stopped coming around.
 
I must admit, I didn’t really notice that I hadn’t brought Jack home for a while or that my Poodles hadn’t set up in a barking frenzy playing his fence fighting game. Actually, I hadn’t thought about him at all … until today. You see, today was a beautiful day and Jack, on a leash and accompanied by his family, came to see me.
 
Jack now has three legs. Seems he was hit by a car not one, not two, but three streets over. (Remember how I said that I live in a rural area? That is over 2 miles away from home!) The car that hit him had not stopped , assuming that he was dead. A local vet tech found him, bleeding and unconscious. It took three days for the veterinary clinic to find Jack’s owners as he had no ID. (Actually, it was the County Animal Control officer who first identified Jack - seems she had brought him home as many times as I had! - and just happened to be at the clinic with her own dog!)
 
Jack’s owner said that she had to stop in to apologize to me. She said she hadn’t realized that Jack was such a problem “being that we lived in the country and all.” She was still in disbelief that he had gotten hit by a car because she had let him out loose for so long. I could only say to her the same thing I say to everyone when they are putting their dog at risk in any situation. You can do something stupid a million times and stupid things may work … until the day they don’t.

The Only Thing You Can't Control (AKA What Happens When It Rains on the Rain Date?)

I am a bit of a control freak when it comes to my events. Everything has to be just right - the table cloth has to match the tent, the display bags can't be wrinkled, the informational material in the sample bags all has to face the same way, George (my show van) has to be washed and packed just so and Bonnie and Harvey, my DDE's (Demo Dogs Excellent!), have to be freshly bathed and groomed. My friend, Mary, would tell you I have OCD tendencies  -  I say it is just doing a good job.

After all this care and concern, it is hard for me to accept bad weather  -  and this past weekend, it was hard for my back muscles to accept as well. Nor'easters! Boy! They really take the wind out of your sales (and , yes, mis-spelling intended!).

I was so excited about this particular show. It was the first time I was ever doing an event right in my home town! Rather than crossing bridges or states, I only had to cross town. It should have been a breeze ... instead it was 75 MPH gusts and accompaning sheets of rain water that left it difficult to see even across the street.

I had packed George on Thursday for Friday set-up. Because I wanted to impress my fellow townies, I was doing a new display with hay bales and spiffy signs borrowed from tradeshows past and even doing a drawing for By Nature Biscuits and Organic Cans in a really neat organic tote bag. I was ready  -  even down to the grooming appointment for the DDE's scheduled for late the next day so I could drop them off after set up.I went to bed feeling satisfied. I didn't even set the alarm  -  afterall, I only had to drive across town. Turns out, I wouldn't have needed it anyway.

There have only been a few times that I have ever been awakened by a storm. As luck would have it, Friday would be one of them. Never before had I seen such lightening ... and heard so many tornado warnings (gotta love the Emergency Broadcast System!). It was Mama Nature's fireworks at their best ... or worst, as it would turn out. The rain didn't stop all day and the wind took down two trees which will now easily supply more than enough firewood this winter for myself and several of my best friends.

Probably needless to say, set-up was postponed until Saturday, and with the event to open at 9:00, would make for a very early morning - so much for getting more sleep because I was working in my hometown! (Just an aside here - I hate doing shows where set-up and opening are on the same day. There is just something about spending 3 hours pounding in stakes and carrying boxes and getting all hot and red-faced that just doesn't work well with dealing with the public.) At least I got Bonnie and Harvey to the groomers though a clean rain-soaked dog only smells slightly better than a dirty one. I did set the alarm Friday night ...

Saturday morning came - actually it was more like "Sat - only three hours into the - day" came. You would be amazed how cold it is at 3am even in September! I had to wake the Poodles up - they were none too happy  -  and get the kennel in order before I left. I was out the door at 6:00  -  and at 6:30, it started raining ...again.

The township commitee was all a flurry. Should we or shouldn't we? They had already posted Sunday as the rain date. It was raining steadily now. It took them two hours to decide  -  and me only one to set up the Tree House (my tent - it has a great leaf motif like the By Nature Nature bags!) and unload the bales of hay, the nifty tradeshow signs and all the By Nature Food and Biscuits. I was just starting to put the one pound Organics in the sample bags when the tax collector (picked, no doubt, because he is used to delivering bad news and people yelling at him) told me to pack it up. "Pack it UP?" I say, probably a little more loudly then I ought. "I got up at 3 AM to do this!"

Yep, I had to pack it up. They evidently didn't want to be responcible in case anything got stolen ... or washed away in a flood. I took me over a hour to get everything back into George - and it certainly wasn't done just so - hay gets everywhere. I got home just as the power went out. It would stay out until well into the night.

I went to sleep Saturday night early - I don't know what time it was because, modern gal that I am, everything runs on electricity here. My last thought before I drifted off to sleep was "Geeze! How will I know when it is time to get up?"

Do you know what happens when the the power goes out and you don't realize that you have left lights, TV, and a electric coffee pot that you use to make iced tea with on? Yep, the power comes back on  -  unexpectedly and when you are sleeping  -  and you hit the ceiling before you hit the floor. Talk about a jump start! That happened a little after 2 AM. I decided to do the kennel - after my hands stopped shaking.

At about this point, you can re-read about five paragrahs up and change all the "Saturdays" to "Sundays" because, once more, I get to the venue and it is raining - actually it was raining harder than it had the previous day. Once again the township commitee was a flurry. I stayed in George and listened to a stess reduction CD.

As you probably have already guessed, the event was cancelled - rain date next year same location. So what IS it you do when it rains on the rain date?  You go home, hug your dogs, grab a blanket and a hot chocolate and an Advil or two and watch Hitchcock movies  -  and hope that the rain keeps up so that you can't unload George until tomorrow ...

September 11 - In Memoriam ...

There was a time that I was a contributing writer for a local newspaper. I wrote a dog column, usually about 900 words, and, during my ten year stint, probably covered everything from Affinpinchers to Zebra-striped dog coats. Now, all these years later, it is funny.I can really only remember one column. It ran after the Twin Towers fell.

It was only a few lines. After watching the TV footage and seeing all the photographs that poured into the newpaper office, it was all I could say. "You have shown us the courage of the canine spririt and a willingness to trust that knows no bounds. May we always act in such a way as to deserve it."

That's the thing about dogs - they trust us. And like the Search and Rescue Dogs that were set to work after that tragic, confusing, horrific day, our dogs are willing to do what we ask, when we ask, without pause or question or thought as to how it it going to effect them.

So, on this, the anniversary of one of America's greatest tragedies, I ask you all to hug your dog and remember that he has the same faith and trust in you that the SAR dogs of 9-11 showed us over and over and over again. Say a prayer, too  -  for those we lost and for those we found, and also for us  -   that we find ourselves better people who truly deserve the trust and faith of a dog.

It's Not a Job - It's An Adventure!

Summer is, by far, my busiest season - and no, the livin' ain't easy! There are so many outdoor events, dog and otherwise, that I could literally be in a different location everyday - and that is almost what I have been doing! It has been tear down one night and set up in a new venue the very next for yet another week. The word "whirlwind" only does partial justice to the schedule I have been keeping - and it is exciting and exhilarating and crazy all at the same time!

The "crazy" part actually makes everything fun and interesting. Take, for example, what happened at St. Greg's Family Festival in Hamilton Square, NJ. While my promoter at the time, Amusements of America, usually set me up near the people food vendors or "Kiddie Land" (where all the little kids rides are), this was a rather small lot and I was set up next to a monster ride called the "Fire Ball." The only way I can describe it is to say that it has a pendulum-like center arm which attaches to a rotating wheel. Passengers are strapped into the wheel and spun round and round and rocked back and forth almost to the point of inversion by the center arm. While way too much for little kids and most sane adults, the teenagers love it and it is always one of the biggest attractions. Needless to say, I was skeptical having my “Tree House” (the nickname for my leaf-covered tent!) next to this behemoth. I was even more unsettled when, during initial state inspection (we get inspected everyday for safety), I realized that the kids would be swinging over me! All I could think was "What more?"

Well, I found out the "what more" that evening when the show opened. It seems teenagers like to keep all sorts of things in their pockets - Ipods, cell phones, make-up, and lots and lots of money. How do I know? Because plink, plunk, smash, the "Fire Ball" shakes it all out and it was raining electronic devices, Bonnie Bell and American currency all over my tent! By the end of the night, I could have supplied Best Buys for a month, been a glamour queen and bought the entire show crew dinner at the Four Seasons for the rest of the week! Needless to say, all hardware and make-up went to the lost and found, and the money, well, let's just say, that St. Greg's got an unexpected donation nightly ! (Actually, by the end of my week's stay, St Greg's got over $600.00 from the "Fire Ball Fund!" Not too shabby, huh?)

Another crazy thing happened one night when I coming home from Paramus, NJ and the DARE Festival. It is about a three hour drive to and from Paramus and my house. Because I was told by the powers that be (and you know who you are!) that I had to keep my expenses down, I have booked all my shows sort of locally and do the commute every day. Doing this, you get to know where the safe rest areas are … or so I thought!

It was late - probably after 1AM - and I guess I had one too many sodas at the show. I pulled into my usual rest area on the NJ Turnpike (like I said, you tend to have "favorites" when you are doing the same route day in and day out!). I go to the Ladies Room and there are five or six woman at the entrance looking in. There, in front of the mirrors over the sinks, is some GUY dancing to the piped in music, singing his heart out and combing his hair - oblivious to the fact that there were a bunch of women, some nervous, some with bemused smiles on their faces, standing there! It was … weird!

As there were no cops around (what is that they say about when you need a cop …), two of us went to the Burger King (it was the only thing open and there were men there - ok, so most of them were teenage boys but, at least, they worked there …) and told them about the musical grooming guy in the Ladies Room. They went in and got him out and took him … somewhere (maybe where they store the meat ? I don't know … all I was aware of at this point was that I had had one too many sodas …).

Middletown, NJ and St. Mary's also provided a rather crazy experience. I had to travel the Garden State Parkway south end. This was a first for me. I had traveled the north end plenty - and hate it! There are thirty-five cent toll booths every ten feet or so and the traffic … well, I have seen parking lots with better flow. Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised that the south end (where the Atlantic City Expressway and the Garden State Parkway meet) is actually nice - the road is good, the cars actually go the speed limit or over, and it is a great drive - UNTIL the night time …. UNTIL you get to the bored toll taker!

There is, coming south, right before you get to the Atlantic City Expressway Exit, a toll booth. Now, I, because I need a receipt to document my expenses and pay cash because I still don't trust Easy Pass, have no choice late at night as to toll lane. Usually, there is only one Cash/Receipt Lane (all of you who drive the GSP regularly will recognize this as the "Red" Lanes!). Anyway, I go to the one lane available to me and THERE HE IS! The bored toll taker! The first night, it was sort of amusing. "No," he says, "I won't give you your receipt until you answer three trivia questions." HUH? Thankfully, they were easy - two were TV trivia and one was Movie (and one I had seen which, in and of itself, is funny because aside from Star Trek movies, I don't generally go to movie theaters …. Who has the time?). I was given my receipt and off I went.

The second night (and mind you, it is after 2AM and all I want to do is get home!), he does it again. This time I don't know the answers - so he keeps me there ten minutes explaining them to me. The third night, I approach the toll booth thoroughly convinced that I am living that children's story about the troll at the bridge and all ready to blow this guy away, and he isn't there! Yipeeee! I get a reprieve! The forth night, I am not so lucky … and sit there and, as it was raining like there was no tomorrow, have to hear about the average rainfall in NJ and the average rainfall in a storm like the one we were currently experiencing. It was a 20 minute ordeal - I got home after 3AM.

The fifth night, I paid my toll in the exact change lane with no receipt (you can ask my boss or look at my expense report! It was worth paying $1.20 NOT to have to listen to this guy!). The final night, tear down night, I got to that toll booth at almost 4AM (tear down nights are long as they are "staged." You can't just up and leave as there are hundreds of people trying to get out of a small spot. They give each area a time for which you can bring in your truck, van, whatever … and get your stuff out!). I must have been tired because, again, I go to the Cash/Receipt Lane and there he is - actually, I must have been exhausted because when he did his little "three question" thing, I told him that I was tired, had been working over 20 hours, and really, really, had no interest in playing his game. He gave me my receipt and told me he was just trying to make my drive more pleasurable - I told him to get me a chauffer ….

These are just a few of the things that make life as a Dog Food Demo Girl interesting and fun and crazy. Someday, I will have to tell you about the MRSA scare (that is resistant Staph infection and yes, I was exposed and no, I didn't get it!), or the lady with the mixed breed dog that had 28 puppies in one year, or the time the goat got out of her pen at the 4-H fair and found her way to the “Tree House” after closing …

As I said, it isn't just a job. It's an adventure ...

Blame It On Westminster!

Ok ... so I am not going to lie to you. When I was a kid, I never once blurted out "I want to be a dog food demo girl" when my overbearing aunts pinched my cheeks and asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up - even though "Bobby," my pseudo-Basset Hound was always at my side. And it certainly didn't come up in any conversations with my high school guidance councilor even though I was volunteering at the county animal shelter every weekend. In college, after many aptitude tests and a Philosophy degree, my advisor told me that either grad or law school would be an excellent choice - even though "Sartre," my German Shepherd/Traveling Salesman mix had attended most of my classes with me and was laying at my feet. Nope, no one had seen this coming but I was destined to be a dog food demo girl.

I have always been a dog person. It started with the aforementioned “Bobby,” a dog my parents got out of the newsletter that accompanied our daily milk delivery. Long and low, he followed me everywhere - something no one really realized until I tripped over him while getting ready for school. He was waiting for me outside the bathroom door. I lost a tooth in that fall - and had to wait another year before the adult tooth grew in to replace it.

“Muffet” was the first dog that was “all my own.” A white Miniature Poodle, we got her from what would now be called a puppy mill but unheard of at the time. “Muffet” was not much of a Poodle - short muzzled, round eyed, roach backed - but she was a heck of a dog! She taught me a lot - how to use clipper and scissor, how to train, how to accept responsibility for something that was totally dependant. She was patient and smart and knew when and how to say “enough” when I got over-zealous with her. She was a wonderful girl and I can't help but smile when I think of her.

“Sartre” was my college dog. Given to me on my 18th birthday by my Aunt after a visit to the very same shelter where I volunteered, she probably understood Hegel and Socrates and , of course, her namesake, Jean-Paul Sartre, as well as I did - and probably Statistics and Chemistry even better. She was one of those dogs that was naturally obedient, rarely necessitated a lead, and was welcomed everywhere. She loved going to the “Old Grey Mare” and spent many a Friday night listening to folk music and drinking water out of an oversized coffee cup.

It was shortly after graduating that IT happened. I was down with the flu and I watched - and I mean really watched - the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. The pageantry, the precision, and the dogs! Oh! Those dogs! They were perfect - almost magical. I was on the phone not twelve hours after the final day of broadcast and had my very first show dog four months later. Over the subsequent years, attending handling classes became teaching handling, attending dog shows became hosting them, membership in dog clubs became Board of Directors member, and exhibiting became judging, It is an avocation/responsibility/lifestyle that has endured until this day and as anyone who knows me will attest, I am no spring chicken.

Ok … Ok … I know you are wondering what the heck this has to do with being a By Nature Demo Girl. Everything! Five years ago, I was approached by a By Nature representative after a nutritional/performance lecture I did at one of the local dog clubs. A good salesman but lousy dog person (actually, he had never had any animals!), he had questions. I have to admit, I probably didn’t receive him well - the questions were too basic and his approach too much along the lines of “how can I sell this?” But he was lucky - the dog food formulations were actually good … and I had no dogs shows scheduled. We set up a meeting for the following Saturday.

The meeting went well - although I know he was put off by all the studies, articles, and the copy of the NRC’s “Nutritional Requirements of Dogs and Cats” that I gave him. He wanted to learn? Well, this is how you do it - and, I told him, it would be something he would have to keep on doing forever to keep up with the changes in science and the all the new findings - something I had gone back to school to do! It was probably lucky for me that he, being new to the area, had few friends and lots of free time because he proved to be a willing and quick learner. Soon, he asked me to accompany him on his more difficult calls with veterinarians and prospective retailers who were involved with more than just the average pet owner. Those sales calls soon evolved in doing marketing pieces and presentations that would make their way to his boss and then his boss’s boss and, without even really realizing it, the dog food demo girl was born.

Now I travel - to dogs shows and dog club meetings, state and county agricultural and 4-H fairs, pet expos, carnivals, charity fundraisers, and town festivals - to give out samples of By Nature Pet Food and sell a product, certainly … but, perhaps even more importantly to me, to talk dogs and give out the best and most correct information available. It is all about the dogs … which, in my mind, is just as it should be!