Our incorrigible hamsters

Coco - Bella - Nunchuck

Like you, we grew up having pets and most likely, also like you, they were more like family with extra privileges, than animals simply living in our house. We had an English sheepdog named Annie that was the wonderful child pet, but she met her demise chasing cars and one day, she simply got a little too close. That was my first recollection of losing something precious. We buried her on the farm near where she was killed on that Michigan country road. But this is not a sad tale. Its about how these furry babies take over our lives and end up owning us.

We have 2 dogs and a good number of days, we also have our kids 2 dogs. Combined, they weigh a total of 40 pounds. All 4 are females and properly spoiled. Coco is a purebred small Shi-tzu weighing 8 pounds. She is 100% Shi-tzu, but as anyone can attest who owns one of these lap dogs, she is part rabbit, cat, dog, and monkey. She's strong-willed to the point that if she is sniffing something interesting on one of our walks, she becomes totally deaf. Neither my bride or I own this dog. She owns us.

Bella

Bella is larger, weighing about double and is black and white and resembles a Border collie mixed with a fox. We know her mother is a Blue Merle Pomeranian and Dr. Cynthia Lipps identifies her other portion as a Papillon. She's a barker and sits around the house objecting to every noise and smell, seen, or imagined. In the yard, she is a non-stop noise maker. I love this dog and she is mine and tries very hard to please me. She occasionally has seizures and I hold her in my arms on the floor and talk to her until she comes out the other side.

I cater to both dogs almost exclusively, feeding them and give them medicines. I give them treats as a reward for everything. My bride bathes them. I have a unique nonsense of baby dog talk I invented when addressing them. I refer to them as hamsters to their face. "Good morning hamsters!" I have no explanation as to why I do this and when asked what kind of dogs they are by folks we pass on Blue Heron Trail, I may say they are Weimaraners, or Belgian waffle retrievers. "Oh really? I've never heard of a Colombian biscuit pincer and why do they look so different?"

"They had different fathers." We both laugh and then, because some people are dog lovers like I am, I explain what they really are while Coco let's herself be petted and Bella stands and barks at them. When we walk around the pond, Coco has to smell everything. Bella leaves the yard coming back and as soon as we make the far corner, she is all about returning to the yard so she can bark at people walking around the pond.

Dragon

My daughter's 2 doggies at Dragon, a 6 pound Yorkie that is totally energized and psycho. She has an intensity about her that only disappears when she is exhausted and has exhausted everyone around her. This usually takes 18 hours. She is by far, the smartest of the 4. This dog has more energy than is humanly possible and if you look at her for more than 2 seconds, she will stare at you and bark non-stop. All 4 dogs are around 9 years old and incorrigible. Cesar Millan couldn't do anything with them. Being raised as sisters, they each are totally different in personalities. For instance, both the Yorkie and Shi-tzu are terrified of thunder. The other 2 not at all. Dragon and Nunchuck suck up food like they are starving. Bella is soft-mouth and carefully will remove a treat from my hand like she is performing surgery. Coco has an under-bite and if the treat is really delicious, she will get your finger by unhinging her jaw and snapping at the food.

The last of the 4 is the one with the sweetest personality. Nunchuck is a rat terrier that weighs maybe 9 pounds. She's diabetic and sadly, we do not know how many more moons she has with us. The poor thing is almost blind and is no trouble at all. She's quiet the majority of time, except when Dragon and Bella decide that something deserves setting off the bark alarm and then she will join them. It takes a lot to get Coco to investigate anything. The 3 dogs will be running all over our back yard yapping and barking and Coco will almost bark, raising up off the patio table (on a towel we set for her comfort) and maybe... maybe growl a little bit. When she does take off running and barking, I call this "Shi-tzu rage", but she won't go far. Its too much effort.

Bella and Coco on guard duty

Each of us could write a book on our pets and if you are a pet lover, you will sit and chat with other owners and enjoy the conversation. If the dog will allow it, you will eagerly pet and talk to it and compliment the owner on its appearance. In closing, I want to comment on my Shi-tzu's dining preferences. It has to be what she likes, or she will simply not eat. She will break us, before she gives in. We have a ritual whereby I announce what I have for her. She will run over and sniff it and if it passes, she will rabbit bounce up and down. If not, well, I'll find something else. 

Like I said, they own us, not the other way around and don't even get me started on cats.

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We are no longer a Dirty Bay

My bride and I were discussing Baytown, its future, and our perceived reputation as “just another working class oil town” or dirty bay as some claim. We have an organization here named Keep Baytown Beautiful which I aligned myself with for a short spell.  It has a mission to well, keep the city beautiful. For starters I think we need a paradigm shift to make Baytown beautiful first, and then we can keep the ball rolling.

Eleanor Albon and Kathy Nelson are the movers and shakers in this organization and my hat stays off to both of them.  Eleanor runs the Adopt-a-site program and Kathy overseas beautification projects. Both of these are crucial to making Baytown a better and cleaner place to raise our families. They are making headway and it is making a difference in our city.

My new goal is to have positive input into the Strategic Planning Advisory Committee with other like-minded citizens. Our aim is to plot the 5 year future of the city. As I’ve stated before, I am all about the quality of living here, not in a new restaurant or retail store. Other committee members can worry over that.

This past week, my bride and I made our 3^rd trip into Houston for outdoor activities.  Each time we racked up about 65 miles going and coming. The 1^st and 2^nd trip were to take our grandson to Donovan Park in the Heights. This closed-in and wrought iron-fenced castle-like playground is hugely popular and is large enough that it is never really overly crowded. There is covered seating so parents can watch their kids in comfort and the gate lock is high enough that only adults can open it.

Baytown needs one of these parks – or two. Again it will require a paradigm shift from the prefab playground stuff most cities erect, including ours. As a committee member planning our city’s future, I do not want to be the proverbial flea in a lidless jar, who only jumps as high as where the lid should be. There is no lid and there is no reason Baytown can’t have a unique park where people drive 30 miles to come to it.

Look at Kemah. Mainly through one man’s vision, it is an international draw. We have some of this amazing stuff in Baytown already, so it is not unreasonable. We have Pirates Bay and the new fountain on Texas Avenue which doubles as an ice rink in winter. We have the Royal Purple Raceway. Thanks to Scott Johnson’s leadership and our hard-working parks crews, we have well maintained parks for kids to play.

The Heights in Houston.

In talking to Director of Strategic Initiatives Nick Woolery the other day I suggested we have a second and maybe a third Calypso Cove. Parks are money sinks, but if one is breaking even, or better yet, making money like Pirates Bay, to me it is a no brainer to build another or expand the one we have.

Our disc golf course is the best in the Houston metroplex! The best! We are soon to expand the trails in Jenkins Park and I am asking for elevation changes and a certified 5K trail. This may not seem important, but if it is certified, runners will train here for competition. I would love to see a flyover connecting the Blue Heron Parkway trail to Jenkins Park. This would be hugely popular, as runners can practice their hill climbing other than running over the Fred Hartman Bridge.

In the Heights of Houston, the ten foot wide sidewalks are safe because they are so heavily used. Cyclists, runners, families, dog walkers, roller skaters, and yes, geocachers are on it constantly. People are choosing a healthier lifestyle over sitting on the couch simply because it is available and easy to get to. Our city is planning an entire loop of connecting 10 foot sidewalks that will allow us to take long bike rides, hikes, and runs. Everyone is aware that our kids need to lose weight and this is one great way as a family to accomplish that goal.

I’ve made the claim for years that Baytown is not friendly toward people on bikes or afoot and if I can change that, I surely will. Healthier cities have a lot of foot traffic, but when the only walking we do is a half a parking lot occasionally, we are kidding ourselves. There is a plan to have a 10 foot wide sidewalk from the Evergreen defunct golf course all the way over to the Baytown Nature Center using old RR tracks as a roadbed.

The Goose Creek trail starting at Bayland Park will run all the way to Emmett Hutto Drive in the next expansion. Baytown can be like Kemah. We have the water resources and we can exploit them with kayak/canoe launches and amenities to draw water lovers. I am working with the tourism department to bring a Geocaching Geotour here, which will attract people from all over the country. We should be launching it in the next few months.

So, the preconceived notion that whatever we do here is “good enough” is not good enough. We need to be that flea that jumps high enough that it realizes the sky is the limit. Baytown can be THE place to visit and the place to raise a family and through your help, we can make it so. So, how do you get involved? Send me input. baytownbert@gmail.com Talk to your councilperson. Call the tourism department or the parks department and give them your suggestions. Most of all when you hear the city is trying to push through a Parks-related issue, give them a high five.

You can also go online and submit your ideas by taking the Imagine Baytown Survey!  It is very short.

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Baytown, Texas Gator Ride Is A BP MS 150 Recommended Ride!

The 23rd year of the Baytown Family YMCA Gator Ride has changed for the better! The Gator Ride is scheduled for Saturday, March 3, 2012.

Our ride site is located across the street from Bicentennial Park located at 119 Lee Drive. We have the 62 and 43 mile rides that go over the Fred Hartman Bridge, and the 51 and 33 mile rides which do not go over the bridge. We also have the Lisa Guy Memorial Family Ride for all ages which is 6.2 miles.  Please click on the tabs above and receive more information plus pictures from last year's ride.

7:30 am - 62 mile ride starts
8:00 am - 51 and 33 mile rides start
8:30 am - 43 mile ride starts

9:00 am - 6.2 mile Lisa Guy Memorial Ride starts

After your ride, stay and enjoy activities at the Start/Finish line.

The Start/Finish Line is across from Bicentennial Park located at 119 Lee Drive, Baytown, TX 77520.

Register online for the 2012 Gator Ride 

Download the registration form for the 2012 Gator Ride!

Questions? Call 281-427-1797
Gator Ride
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Benefiting the Baytown Family YMCA

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The Greatest Gift - reposted from December 17, 2006

Every day at work, I wash down the bird droppings from the pigeons and dove that nest in my area. I’ve thought about ways to keep them out of the covered areas and really want to do it in a way that isn’t harmful to them. Their droppings are surely a health hazard and I get aggravated when each day, I drag out the water hose to flush it into the Plant sump.

Yesterday, I saw a pigeon all fluffed up, sitting on the ground and I instinctively knew it was sick. Instead of feeling justified, I felt nothing but pity. Under my breath I whispered a short prayer for its recovery. I guess I’m getting old, or mellow, or something. In my earlier days, I wouldn’t have given the poor bird much thought, as sad as that sounds.

Each day in the media and the online forums, the war in Iraq and Afghanistan is tossed back and forth with a detachment that is as bad as my former aloofness concerning sick birds. We complain about the war and the way it’s being handled and all the while "our boys" are in the thick of it, facing another Christmas away from home.

We want it to go away, so we can resume our lives, shop for Christmas and attend a joyous New Years party. I truly wish it would go away and we could experience peace on earth and good will to all men.

The troops in Iraq and other war zones occasionally have access to the Internet and most of them have a MySpace account. Being the techno-geek guy that I am, I too have an account and I regularly read what my son and other soldiers write. What I’ve experienced in my own life as a G.I. overseas in wartime has brought depth to their casual remarks.

"Life isn’t supposed to be this bad when you’re still young".
"I figure I’ve been through the worst of it and I’m ready to start living again".
"This is the worst place on earth"…

Christmas is approaching and for many of us Christian people, it marks the greatest day of the year, both for the celebration of the birth of the Christ child Jesus, but also as a time of gathering together. We exchange gifts, eat a lot of fattening food, and generally indulge ourselves to the point we all go on diets beginning January one. As my daughter Melody loves to say: "Good times!" and it surely is.

As an Airman, I spent four Christmas’ away from home. One in Basic Training, another in freezing Malmstrom AFB, Montana and two at steamy Takhli RTAFB, Thailand. I lost something in those four years and those that are away serving our country will lose something also.

* "He went to fight wars, For his country and his king, Of his honor and his glory, The people would sing.
Ooooh, what a lucky man he was…"

The truth is just the opposite. Our boys and girls come back old men and women and some bear physical and mental scars they will carry for the rest of their lives. Sometimes the scars are not apparent and surface many years later. Sometimes the scars are too hard for loved ones to bear and a separation takes place while the Veteran sorts it all out.

My son will be returning to Fort Sill, Oklahoma on January 7th, if everything goes as planned and after 10 days of "reintegration", he will be able to come home on leave. I looked this Army term up, as I found it peculiar and this is what I found: "The automatic energetic process, whereby the projected double is reintegrated with its physical/etheric body". In plain old Texas talk, what this means is, these soldiers have to be eased back into society, a little bit at a time. It’s supposed to take 10 days.

The greatest gift I could possibly get this Christmas season is the boy is still alive inside the man. He left for Iraq, a Veteran of Korea and Kuwait, but after 82 combat missions, 15 IED attacks and a Purple Heart medal, I do not know who this man might be when he comes back. God willing, my "boy" is still in there somewhere.

Footnote: On April 16, 2009 I found my Army Veteran son dead on a friends couch, the victim of depression, VA prescribed anti-anxiety pills and alcohol. His Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) finally bought him a ticket to the peace he so desperately craved.

Nick's passing left an unexpected gift though and at first it was difficult to cipher out. Over 600 people gathered at this funeral and our home for days on end to comfort each other and those he had affected. It was his parting gift.

I do not blame God and am trying to make sense of it all. I do have as a gift this Christmas season the greatest of all gifts and that is my Faith, my church, my faithful friends and my wonderful family...and I share the belief that someday we'll be reunitied with my hero son, Nick.

* "Lucky Man" Emerson, Lake & Palmer

One Long Month Later

One month ago today my world plunged into a place of hellish turmoil. It took twenty-eight days to climb back to the land of the living. Yesterday, I put a gardenia bloom to my nose and it smelled sweeter and more fragrant than it ever did in the past.

Experiencing the king of ironies, one month ago today, I sat in the office of my unit superintendent and finally unloaded my burden for my son’s anguish, his problems concerning post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and the reason I had taken four weeks of emergency vacation in the first four months of the year. Little did I know that as I talked to my boss, my son was already dead and I would never talk to him again, except in my prayers and memories.

Today, one month later I’ve experienced five nights without constant dreams of Nick and I must say, that that has been a good thing. Although I have avoided feelings of guilt, as I truly believe I did my level best to do and say the right thing to him, some guilt must be shouldered for I missed key trigger points that should have warned me that things were dangerously wrong.

Going back to the year 1972 when I got orders for Vietnam and my World War II Veteran father admonished me to “not do anything over there that I would regret for the rest of my life” and was the exact phrase I repeated to my son before he went to South Korea, then Kuwait and finally Iraq. Just a few days before his demise Nick signed back up for the Infantry in the US Army and repeated “the admonishment” to me, but added this: “Dad, remember what you told me? Well, this time, I’m going to kill them”.

I should have recognized this for what it was, but I blew it off as just…anger. It was anger all right, but the wrong kind. It was the kind that shows a much deeper problem - one that screams out for counseling. I should have recognized the cycle of self-destruction sooner. But, my son had a whole lot of his Dad in him and I guess it’s a Marshall trait also, that we don’t seek counseling – we give it. We are an internalizing group, who suck it up when things don’t go the way we think they should, remaining self-reliant and guess what? It’s not always good for us, or those we love.

Two days ago I finally had a release of pent-up emotion that cleansed and later comforted me. It came over me so suddenly that I just surrendered to it. It was time. I have this crazy notion that grief on my part is selfish and blatant self-pity and I avoided it like the plague. I had the stupid thought that all I’m doing is feeling sorry for myself, like a big baby. It’s stupid and self-destructive and if all of this has taught me anything, it’s that I don’t know anything and grieving is okay. Besides others are grieving and I think their grief is normal.

One month ago I told my wife the same thing I’ve said many times: “I don’t have a single close friend, I just have acquaintances”. My God in heaven was I ever wrong. I have a whole lot of friends, close friends. Friends, who have sacrificed for me and mine. Oh, to go through life and not know what a friend is would be a miserable existence indeed. It’s another thing I didn’t recognize.

One month ago I started to live all over again and it was a painful entry, but now after a month has gone by, the flower blooms smell sweet again and I am surrounded with family and friends that are dearer and more a part of my life than my wildest imagination could have predicted.

All Things Must Pass

It's been eight dreary months since my little doggie of fourteen years took a fatal downward spin that left my family heart broken and her passing is still difficult to discuss or even write about. Her name was Muffin and she was half Shih Tzu and half Pomeranian, or what is referred to as a Shi-Pom.

She was the sweetest little dog and she knew no enemies. Everyone was her friend. She loved French fries more than anything in the world and would nip fingers when offered one and it's to my shame and her detriment that I offered her human food at all. Live and learn. Dogs should not eat human food and this time around we are making sure ours eats properly.

When she was very small and still a puppy, the boy down the street accidentally stepped on her and broke her leg. We carried her to the Vet as soon as we could and they set the injured leg. It did not heal like new and consequentially; our doggie walked splayfoot the rest of her days. She didn't seem to mind and on our walks, I would carry her a lot. It was a satisfactory arrangement.

When I went to visit friends and family, she accompanied me and sat comfortably on my lap and folks expected to see her there. She was my friend. I was known to comment that she was the best kid I ever raised. I loved that little dog like it was family and only a pet lover understands the depth of love a pet gives freely.

About seven years ago, I wrote an intimate poem about her and I want to share it with those of you who love animals and know how a wonderful pet massages our soul. I call it 'My Little Animal'.

I have a little animal that lives…in my house

licker, snorter, scratcher, sleeper, my baby.

It's hairy, furry, fluffy…soft as a mouse.

Companion, comforter, snuffer, stinker, my lady.


What would I do without it…in my life?

Player, chaser, trickster and my bestest friend.

My little animal cleanses me…of inner strife.

Eater, beggar, snorer, smiler, its benefits transcend.


Pig dog, sleeper, kitty cat…Muffin, Muffer, Looler.

Where is the kitty cat??? Get em!

Stink bait, road kill, sweetie cakes, pootie, hacker.

Do you want a bath? Chase em!


Morning arrives and I bow down to my little animal.

Descending to its level…I start my greeting.

Scratch, scratch, and scratch, for me visceral.

Rub, rub, and rub…another heavenly meeting.

As much as I miss her (her photo is still on my cell phone), we realize she lived the life of a diva and had anything she wanted, any time she wanted it. She lived a very protected and good life and against all reason, I believe she is nestled in the arms of heaven awaiting my arrival.

Needless to say, I did not take her passing very well and secreted myself away for the grieving process, which to a blessed lesser extent is still in progress. My bride was also severely hurt over our loss and vowed not to bring another doggie into our home. The pain is too deep and she wanted to protect us from a pet life to death reoccurrence.

As the months slipped by I began to voice how I needed another friend to help me in the grieving process and one night I caught my bride watching youtube.com videos of Shih Tzu's. I welcomed and encouraged this behavior and before much longer we found ourselves at a breeders in Houston and took into our arms a baby female Shih Tzu.

My daughter, Melody, much grieved by the loss of Muffin, selected the new name of Coco Bear and we began the process of housebreaking what is arguably the most difficult breed to housebreak. We wanted a Shih Tzu because Muffin was half Shih Tzu and we thought we knew what we were doing. It wasn't long before we realized our beloved Muffin acted more like a Pomeranian, than this little Ewok monkey.

The Shih Tzu pure breed is a peculiar royal lap dog of unmatched parallel; we quickly found out and began reading everything we could, to help us understand what we had welcomed into our home.

One trainer summed up this stubborn and obstinate dog as either the stupidest dog on the planet or the smartest. This breed cannot be scolded for wrongdoing, but rather rewarded to do well instead. If they want to do something, it's like they are genius learners; if they don't care to learn something, it's going to take forty or fifty concerted efforts on the owners part to get them to do it your way…maybe.

Shih Tzu's are part monkey, part cat, part rabbit and finally part dog. Ask anyone who owns one. Their bottom jaw juts out like a bulldog. Their hair feels and looks like it belongs on a cat and when they are wet; they must be blow-dried, as they can't shake the water out. They hop straight up in the air and run like a rabbit with sudden starts and stops. Their face looks like a cross between a Golden Lion Tamarin monkey and a Star Wars Ewok and they steal your heart like a funny little furry pirate.

Muffin will live on in our hearts through Coco Bear. All dogs go to heaven