Racing against time, coming up a tad short

Well, with my hectic life, no surprise that I missed my evening date at the Dartmouth courthouse. That my computer would give out a few hours earlier was not to be predicted, however (except perhaps by Murphy's Law faithful). Arriving seven minutes late due to that struggle, I found they had called all the names to check attendance, and dismissed my case already, before calling any cases. Fortunately, however, a friendly court official assured me I could refile the application in the morning and get a new date. So that's what I'll do. He said he thought the date would be sooner than later.

The bigger problem is what to do about my computer. I don't relish that at all - hours of phoning customer service, etc. etc.

But at least tomorrow is the welcome moment of the week, a bright spot of Brindi, always a boost that strengthens my resolve to keep working to get her back. And I am looking forward to Thursday, to hear some beautiful music and be among friends, old and new.

Racing time and mind

It's well into August, and I fear I've left the blog sitting idle too long. Weeks flee by like fugitives, marked only by my Wednesday visits, brief "supervised" moments with Brindi, after which I do several hours of errands. Otherwise, good or bad, I rarely emerge from the house. And for all that time, I can't seem to get through the growing list of things to be done. An electrician I had to call recently - to help stop the power company from cutting me off, after somebody apparently falsely reported a "dangerous situation" - asked me, "Don't you ever go anywhere?" Not really.

Finally it's summer, after a horrible, horrible winter. I glimpse the baseball games in the park behind my house from my bathroom window. On game days, for the past three years, I'd normally be out strolling the grounds with a dog, Howard or Brindi, and then both of us would hang out with the local team afterwards in their clubhouse. But not this year. I've all but forgotten that I live a few miles from a beautiful deserted beach; the drive down in the car alone, with no warm snout pressing into my shoulder, is no fun, just as a walk through the woods alone holds no interest for me anymore. As a result - naturally, I'm flabby, tired, and pale.

Haven't blogged for many reasons, and no reason at all. Much of the time, there are plenty of things I'd love to write about, but some of them are best left un-blogged - the risk outweighs the communicative purpose and whatever therapeutic benefits I gain from the exercise. Lately, I haven't even felt communicative at all; what is there to say? An entire year has come and gone, a year from hell, that won't end. I don't dare reflect on it any further, for fear of setting off a dozen roadside bombs in my head. Instead I work with images, like this one, which ended up on a t-shirt I tried to give to my favorite Beatle; hopefully, he received it. When I posted the same image on Facebook, suddenly people were asking where they could buy it, so a friend helped me put it on Cafepress.com.

I spend the brief time I am alloted with Brindi each week outside in the pen at the SPCA shelter, in sun or drizzle, taking cover under a tent they put up. I notice Brindi has gotten accustomed to me leaving: she now stands a few feet back from the gate with an expression of a hostess seeing off a guest. She learns quickly; she's adapted as best as she can, in her sporting, willing-to-please way, winning over even the toughest, and she has no idea that she is not supposed to be there. No use trying to get that across, it would only upset a person. I groom her and have been gently introducing the idea of a toothbrush to try to tackle the mess her teeth and gums have become. She licks at the toothpaste, actually meant for cats (but dogs love every sort of food for cats), and after the third time she let me get a good brushing on her canines before wriggling away. Her gums still bleed at the slightest thing - grabbing a toy or chewing a treat.

The Paul McCartney concert was the one notable exception of the whole summer, an occasion for me to leave the house for something other than groceries, court, lawyer interviews or meetings, or other Brindi-related business. In a word, the concert was amazing, truly amazing, no less for the number of ecstatic young (25 and below) people surrounding me who knew all the words, as for the perfection and endurance of the man himself, playing for a good three hours with a fabulous band, including two - or three? - lengthy encores. Just incredible. I stood for over six hours and hardly felt it, even the next day. Still - somehow, it was still hard to get really excited about it, as I did when I was 16 at the Wings Concert in Detroit. This time I was far closer to the stage, and even got a few great pictures (like this one), but the excitement and pleasure were numbed by the way I feel these days, or the way I don't feel - I submerge pain, dread and grief with great effort, and this does not allow joy to seep in very far, even the joy of seeing the 20th century's best musician and songwriter (in my humble opinion).

I now have a court date for the "trial", October 13, rather surprisingly: it seems the court must have been prepared, possibly setting aside this day. The day the date was set (July 15), every bench was packed and March was the date handed out to others. In fact it was so packed (at least 50 people plus about ten lawyers lining the walls), I took the opportunity to hand around the petition. There was an air of solidarity all of a sudden; people were quite willing to sign. Worried about speeding tickets or worse, they were quite stunned when they learned why I was there.

There is truly a sense of solidarity in my immediate community that belies the perception, or misperception, too eagerly circulated in online comments, that my neighbors all want Brindi dead, or at least shipped off somewhere. Most recently the contrary was articulated by the kind woman who rented me a storage unit up the road last Friday. I am using it to store the 20 custom-made wood windows that should have, and would have, long since been installed in my house, had this ordeal not happened. She and I exchanged several phone calls over the last two weeks, as I had to reschedule a few times. She was friendly but I wasn't aware she knew anything about me. When I saw her I realized she was the wife of the local tow truck operator - a man who fished me out of more than one scrapes with my old car through the last two horrible winters, often with her by his side. They live close by, pass my house daily. I forget what a small place this is, in my isolation, so I was a little surprised, when, as my friend and I started loading the windows into the little storage space, the woman asked me, in her great Quebec accent, "When do you think you'll get your dog back? I think it's terrible what they have done." She assured me that many, many people here in East Chezzetcook were on my side. She referred to the way they feel about "them" (the Halifax authorities, I assumed) with disapproval and some derision. I dare say many longtime residents here view HRM's treatment of me and Brindi with the same resentment they feel toward the annexation or regionalization of these smaller communities into the Halifax Regional Municipality (an organizational entity whose logic still escapes me - why a municipality (town) would become a region, eschewing the customary metropolitan area of a city). The loyalties to localities will always be stronger when it comes to certain things.

In any case, it was good to hear her encouraging words, along with the electrician's. He is also a neighbor, living just down the road. He had met Brindi a few times, and regards her as anything but "cross", the local term for a dangerous dog. I am greeted with same head-shaking reaction at the Porter's Lake hardware store, where another neighbor works, and at the bank, where the sympathetic receptionist always asks me how Brindi is doing. Earlier this summer, the former president of the local Lion's Club stopped his car in the road for a good while when he saw me out front, ignoring traffic to express his own disbelief and disapproval. It is over the top, and I guess people are ready to say so.

After he sent a second letter calling for an end to the "nonsense" to his fellow HRM councilors in June, deputy mayor David Hendsbee told me he got an angry letter from one of my neighbors. But it turns out that the person who sent it actually lives in Lower Sackville, a good 45-minute drive away from our constituency. "Well, in that case, I guess I don't have to bother to write back!" Hendsbee said.

Doubtless, there are those in the area willing to join her. I have to wonder how many of them have heard false rumors that Brindi has bitten people or destroyed dogs. The woman with the storage units was adamant that the majority want to see me get her back, and my friend felt the same; I don't doubt it, actually. The thing is, as is true in so many cases, the many are relatively quiet, while the few that have a negative view tend to be loud. Fortunately, the Chronicle Herald has chosen to publish four letters recently, all calling for Brindi's immediate return. Two even proposed that the city reimburse me for legal fees, a welcome idea as far as I'm concerned, and not unreasonable, given that the city's failure to provide a bona fide appeal process and its by-law's sweeping definitions of "dangerous", etc., forced me to have to hire lawyers and go to court. It certainly was not my preference, to risk understatement.

!!!!!NEWS NEWS NEWS NEWS!!!

This coming week: a long-awaited benefit concert, at The Company House - which opened in Halifax last February - on August 13, with tickets priced at $10.

The performers include rising stars Andrea Somers, Ria Mae with Margot Durling, Bruce Stewart (all folk/singer-songwriters), and a new Beatles tribute band, Hard Day's Night.

Bruce's song, "Take Me Home", which he wrote some time ago, says it all, in my opinion...

I owe this touching show of support to Kelly Gray and the owner of the club, and all those helping with PR, and of course, the musicians themselves. I just can't believe the day is already here - in my mind, time is at a standstill; in my mind, it's still February.

Brindi Road: It's Getting Better All the Time

Don't forget me, Brindi, my dear... 

She's not a sheepdog, but I am pretty sure Sir Paul would like Brindi if he met her. 

Big concert tonight: thanks to some generous friends, I'll be there!!! To get to see him wice in a lifetime is surely more than anybody can expect. 

For some weird reason, Haligonians have not bought out all the tickets for the concert tomorrow night. (Could it be their enduring love for the seal hunt outdoes their love of good music?) Still, it's the only Canadian city on his tour  - and the first time ever in Halifax. 

Oh well - more space for the rest of us!

(I figure, if the mayor can do it, so can we!!)

Three Hundred and Forty-four Days

Brindi, my sweetheart, the love of my life
When they took you to prison it cut like a knife.
What could you have done to be locked up so long - 
Three Hundred and forty-four days you've been gone.
The walls that surround you, stones heavy on my heart,
Your breath I can feel from sunlight to dark.

I miss you like the air I can hardly breathe,
Three hundred and forty-four days I have grieved.
I beg and I plead yet for your release
Back into my arms so we both can find peace,
Walk together again in joy, far and wide.
Still those coldhearted walls keep you imprisoned inside.

My Brindi, my angel, I will not let you go
Your name is engraved on my soul, as you know.
I will shout your story for all to see
Three hundred forty-four days: cease counting and be
The answer to the question good people demand
Why is Brindi not back in my arms, on my land.

“Bring Brindi home!” shall be writ in the sky.
No prison can silence this message, I cry!
Three Hundred and forty-four days, far too long;
Come home sweet Brindi, to where you belong!
Sweet kisses and hugs, we must have them back:
My Brindi, my sweetheart, our souls under attack.
Without you my Brindi, without you my love,
Three hundred forty-four nights, no moon of hope above.

May the waves of devotion you send to me
forge a key with my love that will set you free,
I pray to the heavens this summer’s eve.
Brindi, I promise, you never to leave,
You'll be back with me and on the beach we will run,
Tomorrow's yesterdays have already begun.
Three hundred forty-four days - now, let them be done!

May God bring Brindi home, where she belongs!

With love to you and Brindi
from Carol Henderson

New Tag with St. Francis and the Pope

The St. Francis medal that I put on Brindi's collar in April broke off soon afterwards, sadly. It probably got worn down by the chain I wore it on around my own neck, for the nearly ten months I wasn't allowed to see Brindi. I looked and looked, but could not find a sturdier replacement. The practical solution was to make Brindi's new license tag, which I got a while ago, into a St. Francis medal, by having it engraved.

As my weekly Wednesday visit was postponed, due to Canada Day, I put her new tag on her collar today. The numbered side says her name, and on the reverse, "Holy St. Francis, Bless & Protect Me."

Oh, and by the way: this is a license for a spayed adult dog, i.e., a normal license. It cost $15, if I recall correctly. Why mention this? Well, according to By-Law A300, all dangerous dogs (as declared by an animal control officer or a judge) must be entered into the municipal registry.

It seems the city has not classified Brindi in its "dangerous" registration category, all efforts to kill her notwithstanding.  Had they entered Brindi into this category, I would have been charged $100 for her license. It is up to the city to do this; all I did was follow the instructions to renew Brindi's registration. The rest was up to them.

So, two very interesting questions come up. First, since she is not classified as dangerous, why is she is she still in the pound, slated to die? It would be a bit late, if not embarrassing, for HRM to re-classify her now, seeing as I just pointed it out to them. 

But, even if they were to do this, the very existence of an HRM license for dangerous dogs indicates that it is possible to legally own a dangerous dog in HRM (doubtless with certain conditions). So the logical conclusion is that HRM does not automatically kill all dogs deemed dangerous. The second question is, if Brindi were classified and licensed as dangerous, why is she still in the pound, slated to die?

The fact is, I was told to renew her license and I did so without any problem. I have no idea how this was possible given HRM's insistence that she is dangerous, not to mention the prosecution's insistence on euthanization.

I can only keep praying that St. Francis will bestow Brindi his protection, to match the inscription on her "normal dog" license. Maybe, just maybe, with that noble saint's guidance, all the contradictions arising from A300 will cancel themselves out, and my dog can finally come home, before a year is over. The time is running out: July 24 approaches fast. 

Brown Eyes

I saw brown eyes that twinkle so bright
Realized in an instant, they are why we fight
They have no savings, no interest in stocks
Just running amuck with my new white socks

Barking and playing, their spirits free
Money? That question belongs to me
Would I give them up for a big screen TV
Or walk away from them for the wealth I see?

Brown eyes, little paws and a soft fur coat
Rather a stroke and a pat, than a big fancy boat
Cuddles, kisses, and a lifetime of love
I think this is wealth sent down from above

These treasures I have, so priceless and good
Turned my attention to what is best understood
You can't take it with you and never can,
Best stay with your friends and keep making that stand
To fight for their freedom and never give up
I'd rather stay broke than give up these Pups

So when time seem hard and the bills pour in
There's plenty of room in that old rusty bin
I saw brown eyes and all I can do is grin
This precious work is worth more than that diamond ring

I have wealth abundant just not in an account
Surrounding me daily, best friends on whom I can count
Extreme joy, laughter, and a whole lot of love
Brown eyes, heavenly pennies, from heaven above
I have riches forever, brown eyes, you're so loved!

sent to me, and written, by Carol Bowman Henderson, of New Mexico

posted with her permission. See her beautiful video about death row dogs here.

"Anytime we allow ourselves to be bullied, every time we pass by an evil and ignore it - we lower our standards and allow our world to be made that much harsher and unjust for us all." - Public Advisory, Free Gaza, June 25, 2009