Angel on a Leash (2 page)

My friends Ben Walker, Gary and Larry Sever, Bob Clampett, Jeff High, Jeff Wohler, and Bob Main; and my sisters and brother Nancy McCormick, Susan Earley, Judy Kaplan, and Terry Frei.

Andrew DePrisco, Allan Reznik, and Amy Deputato at BowTie, and my agent, Steve Sadicario: thanks to all of you for believing in me and what I do and for making this book possible.

And last, but hardly least, the bravest kids in the world: Andrea, Anthony, Jessie, Laura, Dylan, Eden, George, Devin, Millie, Mitch, Uri, Raisa, Alyssa, Deyja, Fitzgerald, and more; their parents and families; Karen, Belinda, and Maria; and the nurses and staff everywhere we visit.

And of course, the Good Lord, for blessing me with all of these wonderful people and dogs in my life. Thank you.

Introduction:
You Have Me

I
n 2007, the great dog photographer Mary Bloom took a shot of Teigh and me at an outdoor dog show. It was a hot day, and he was sitting on my lap. I didn't see the photo until it ran in
Dog Fancy
magazine a couple of months later. It's a great shot—I love it—and I have named it the “you-really-do-start-to-look-like-your-dog-as-you-get-older” picture.

But the real impact of the picture is that we are both smiling. Yes, my dog is smiling.

My dogs do something to make me smile every day, and I try to reciprocate. Judging from this picture of the two of us, maybe I'm succeeding. People always say that they want to come back in another life as my dog, and I think that being my dog is a pretty good deal for both of us!

This little verse from the brilliant humorist Roy Blount Jr., written underneath a picture of a Standard Poodle reclining in an easy chair, is told from the perspective of the dog and tells you everything about the relationship between most people and their dogs.

You could say I have it pretty good
Here, you could.
But then too, you see,
You have me.

Roy Blount Jr.
I Am Puppy, Hear Me Yap:
The Ages of Dog
(2000)

Do you call your dogs “the kids”? Have you ever bought a car because it was the right car for the family dog? Or rented or bought a house because you wanted the space or yard for your dog? Have you ever planned a vacation based on the idea that you wanted the dog to come along? Do you go to sidewalk cafes for dinner so you can take your dog along?

Guilty on all counts, your honor.

We have this great spiritual and emotional connection to our dogs today—they are members of our families, a part of everything that we do.

Gone are the days of getting a dog for functional reasons, to do jobs for us. Today, we have dogs for companionship, not to pull carts or hunt snow leopards or drive our cattle to market. Of course, there are some exceptions, but more Labrador Retrievers join us as family dogs than as hunters. I could go on and on, but why don't you just tune in to the Westminster Kennel Club or the National Dog Show telecast to hear more from me about what the different breeds were originally bred to do?

Dog owners are special. Bringing a dog into your life creates a relationship with responsibilities and obligations. My wife and I coordinate our office hours based on the dogs' schedules. Our lives depend on dog walkers, veterinarians, and pet-supply store hours and deliveries. Our response to every invitation that we receive always depends on the answer to the question “What about the dogs?”

Bringing a dog into your life is also a sign of sharing and self-giving. And I happen to believe that's exactly why so many people and their dogs are getting involved in therapy dog work these days.

I have been truly blessed. I have a wonderful life, thanks to my family, thanks to some great jobs, and thanks to my life in dogs, which includes showing dogs, my work as the voice of the Westminster Kennel Club and the National Dog Show, and my involvement with our wonderful therapy dog charity, Angel On A Leash.

I have had a lot of fun along the way. Dogs have taken me to the White House, to visit with military heroes at Walter Reed Army Medical Center and Fort Sam Houston, for a ride on a float in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and to a role on
Sex and the City.
I've been on the
Food Network Challenge
as a judge in a cake-baking contest and have appeared on the
Martha Stewart Show,
the
Ellen DeGeneres Show,
the
Today Show, Good Morning America,
and many more, usually accompanied by a dog or bringing a dog-related message.

I met a special man, Mike Lingenfelter, and his amazing service dog, Dakota, and together we wrote a book to tell his story,
The Angel by My Side.
The book won two awards from the Dog Writers Association of America in 2003.

I've met a cardinal and an archbishop and many celebrities because of the dogs. But with apologies to all of them, the biggest celebrity that I've ever been around just may have been the inimitable Westminster Best in Show Beagle, Uno. The real stars in my world have four legs. Because of my own dogs—going to dog shows with them, walking the streets with them, and everything I do with them—I've met some of the most wonderful people, too.

My dogs are Angel On A Leash therapy dogs, and as we proudly say about all of our Angel On A Leash dogs, all therapy dogs are champions. My dogs have delivered me to special places such as Ronald McDonald House New York, Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in New York, the NewYork-Presbyterian Morgan Stanley Children's Hospital, and the Transfiguration Church and School of Manhattan's Chinatown.

I've met lots of special people and courageous warriors of all ages. My dogs are changing people's lives and taking me along, changing my life, too. The stories in this book that have come from our adventures are both heartwarming and heartbreaking, and I have learned so much from all of the experiences that I share. I am honored and humbled to tell these stories. I have been touched by the special people that I've met, thanks to my special dogs, Teigh, Belle, Angel, and Grace.

The Bible tells us that “A faithful friend is the medicine of life and immortality.” I thank my faithful friends every day for letting me be the guy on the other end of the leash. They are my heroes for what they teach me—unconditional love, patience, compassion, caring, how to be nonjudgmental, and more. We add to that list every day.

Before you dive into this book, stop right now and hug your dog. In fact, I hope that you will find many other stops along the way where you will be moved to put down this book for a moment and hug your dog again. And again. And again.

“ Scout has taught me that you don't need to go through life in a hurry. You see so much more when you go slow. ” –B ERN
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Wisdom

S
cout, a sweetheart of a black Lab from the end of the block, was out for her usual morning stroll in the neighborhood, slowly accompanying her human on their daily trip to the local bodega for coffee and a newspaper.

Her human is my friend Bern. He's a big-time attorney, but on the street in the early morning hours he's just another dog guy in a hat and T-shirt with a plastic bag, doing his morning routine. Like many of us in our Upper East Side neighborhood here in New York City, he is known more for his dog and consequently is “Scout's dad” to a lot of folks.

Here, if you're out walking your dog (or dogs), you just come to expect that any greeting goes first to the dog—“Hey, Scout!” After that, you might get an acknowledgment, perhaps something less enthusiastic than the greeting that your dog got. And, even though people are quick to know your dog, they might not know your name—you'll often have to settle for a nod and “How ya doin'?”

I used to own two sports bars in Seattle, and our regular customers often took on their identity with us according to what they always ordered: “Bud in a bottle”…“Stoli and tonic”…“bacon cheeseburger”…and so on. Same thing for all of us on East 72nd Street when it came to our dogs: “Poodle guy”…“Dachshund lady”…“Pug man”…

But with those who we see regularly, we do in fact have names for the dogs and their people: Elsie and Judith, Arthur and Norma, Morgan and Ed, Meggie and Karen, Lucy and Nicole, Jack and Jim and Felix, Lady and Maria, Cardozo and David, Butter and Seraphina and Michelle, and many more.

Those of us with dogs will tell you that our dogs define the neighborhood culture and social scene. The dogs are the great equalizers, bringing people together every day. It often starts with the very simple request: “May I pet your dog?” There is no phrase that brings together people any better than that one does. Diplomats should all get dogs and get to work making friends with each other.

Cheri and I joke that we might not know anyone in our neighborhood if we didn't have dogs. Instead, we have a rich collection of friends and acquaintances: doormen, parking attendants, food vendors, street characters, nurses and doctors and other medical professionals heading to work at the nearby hospitals, people with their earbuds in, people in business suits, people in T-shirts, people hauling their children around, people just hanging out.

At the age of thirteen, Scout was slowing down, and her one-block journey each morning was becoming more and more labored. Nonetheless, Bern faithfully and patiently allowed Scout this daily ritual, no doubt knowing how much it must have meant to her to have the time with him. My guess was that for Bern, it wasn't about the coffee—it was a combination of his sense of duty and his love for Scout. It was wonderful to witness this two-way devotion every morning.

When you have a dog, whether or not you are smart enough to realize it, this faithfulness and patience in the daily routine from start to finish is part of the deal. So in spite of the fact that we were watching Scout nearing the end of her life, we could all smile at what we got to see every day. I know that Bern would have done anything for Scout, and Scout would have done anything for Bern. She may not have done it as quickly as she would have in the past, but she would have done it.

One morning, watching Bern head back up the street with Scout, I said to him, “I guess you don't have many early morning appointments at the office these days.”

He paused, looked at Scout, and smiled. She kept trudging along, not wanting to slow her momentum. She knew that he would catch up.

“You know,” he said, “Scout has taught me that you don't need to go through life in a hurry. You see so much more when you go slow.”

Ah, wisdom. Bern's a smart guy; he gets it. But as good an attorney as he might be, I bet he rarely says anything this powerful in any courtroom. I am never surprised by the simple eloquence that dogs inspire from their people.

Scout passed shortly after this, and all of us in the neighborhood mourned the loss of a family member. It doesn't take Bern as long to get to the bodega every morning now, but I'm sure that Scout is still making that trip with him every day. And even better, she left him with a piece of wisdom that may not be taught in law school, or in any school, for that matter.