Mike in Ohio's Open Salon Blog

I Wanted to See the Body

Wed, 15 Jun 2011 09:06:22 -0400

My dad and I were never close. He is not an outwardly emotional person and, probably because I grew up with him as my role model, neither am I. In my house there was no abuse, he didn't cheat on my mother, he always worked hard to provide for his family - all the things a good father is supposed to do. It's just that he left the emotional side of things to my mother. That's just who he is and as I get older I can see that in myself, too.

I recognize now that my dad's way of showing his love involved his actions, not his words. He'd go out of his way to help me, no matter how it might inconvenience him. One particular incident stands out in my mind that shows just how far he'd go to try and make me happy.

My family was visiting Grandma and Grandpa (Dad's parents) over summer vacation when I was about 8 years old. They still lived on the farm in Nebraska where Dad grew up. One of the best things about visiting the farm, in my young mind, was getting to shoot guns.

Dad had two guns - an ancient BB gun that he let me use and the "big gun". The "big gun" was really just a .22 rifle which is actually a very small, low-powered gun for those of you that don't know. To an 8 year old city kid, though, it seemed like a cannon. One hot afternoon Dad and I were walking around the farm shooting at cans and other stuff like that. Dad spotted a crow sitting atop a dead tree about 50 yards away. He pointed it out to me and asked if I could hit it with the BB gun. I gave it a few shots but there was no chance of hitting it, as I'm sure my dad knew. Then I asked him to try. Dad had no trouble nailing the crow on his first shot with the .22.

In my mind's eye I can still see the crow falling out of the tree and spiralling down to the ground. I asked Dad what would happen to the body and he said that the cats would probably find it and eat it. For some reason I didn't like that idea - I wanted to see the dead bird. After only a few moments of my badgering him, Dad agreed to go get the bird.

The problem was, the tree was in the middle of an overgrown field. There were thorn bushes, stinging nettles, and who knows what else growing there. Dad didn't care - his son had asked him to do something and he was going to try his best to get it done. Off he went through the vegetation. He was gone probably about 20 minutes. When he came back he didn't have the bird - it was just too difficult to find. Being the selfish 8 year old that I was, I didn't appreciate his efforts. I was just saddened that I didn't get to see the dead bird.

My dad and I have had our differences and that's normal for a father and son. But this Father's Day I'm going to keep one picture in my mind that illustrates my dad's love for me. My dad - sweating in the Nebraska heat, cuts and scratches all over his arms and legs, burrs stuck to his socks, apologizing to me that he just wasn't able to find a dead crow in the dense undergrowth.

No need to apologize, Dad. I love you, too. Happy Father's Day.

Caught Peeking

Fri, 3 Jun 2011 09:06:51 -0400

This morning started out like any other weekday. I hit the snooze button one too many times and was 9 minutes behind schedule. Stumble downstairs and make my way to the coffee pot. As I glanced out the kitchen window something caught my eye that was anything but normal.

I see a beautiful woman in her outdoor hot tub. She's enjoying the early-morning chill that sometimes happens on these late-Spring, early-Summer days. She has a cup of coffee next to her and her eyes are closed. I can also see that she is naked, or at least topless. Her large breasts are floating and I can clearly see her tan lines. I pause for a moment and enjoy the view, knowing that she can't see me. Then I go to the garage to smoke a cigarette and drink my coffee.

When I'm finished with my smoke I go back to the kitchen hoping that this gorgeous creature is still there. Happily she is, and now she's laying face-down with her arms resting on the side of the hot tub. I can clearly see that she's completely nude, since her pleasantly round bottom is floating just under the surface of the water. I pause again to enjoy the view. Then I decide to make my move.

I open the kitchen window quietly and let out a wolf whistle to let her know I'm enjoying the show. Her beautiful brown eyes open in surprise and look directly into mine. Now she can definitely see me.

"Good morning honey," says my wife. "My neck was really sore so I decided to see if the hot tub would make me feel better."

I Miss My Dog

Fri, 8 Oct 2010 17:10:11 -0400

I believe it was fate that brought Buckeye into my life. One Sunday my wife and I took our boys to the pet store to pet the animals. While the boys and I were petting the rabbits my wife stepped away. She returned a few minutes later carrying an adorable German Shepherd puppy. We all oohed and aahed over the pup for a few minutes then returned it to the store employee.

The boys wanted to take it home that day but my wife said "No puppy!" At the time we were potty training my oldest, and my wife simply did not want to housebreak a boy AND a dog at the same time. Since she's the one at home during the day, she got the final say in the matter. Talking to her later that night, though, it turned out that she was thisclose to ignoring her concern and getting the dog. She had been touched by it.

The very next day in the break room at work I saw a big, soulful pair of brown eyes staring at me from the bulletin board. FREE TO A GOOD HOME read the sign. Someone was moving to an apartment and couldn't take their 4-year old German Shepherd with them. I called my wife, she called the owner, and that night we took Buckeye home with us for a "trial run." That trial run turned into my first two years of being a dog owner.

Helping hunt EasterEggs

From the start, Buckeye was a very well-behaved dog. He knew how to Sit, Stay, Come. We could take him out to the front yard with us and he wouldn't even think about running away. He stayed on the front porch watching over the boys as they played. He loved playing fetch, though he never quite mastered the "give it back" part. When playing fetch with Buckeye, you needed at least two balls - he'd drop the one he had when you threw the next one. Our backyard grass got pretty torn up by his big paws running back and forth.

Buckeye always made me feel safe. One night stands out in my mind: I was awoken by a noise downstairs and heard Buckeye emitting a low growl. I grabbed a flashlight and went to investigate. Buckeye came with me, hugging close to my legs as we went down the steps. Then he let loose a loud bark and ran toward the back door with me in pursuit. As I rounded the corner I heard our back door slam shut. Someone unwelcome had been in our house while we were sleeping, and Buckeye had scared him off.

Our first winter with Buckeye was eye-opening. This dog LOVED playing in the snow! He'd come out with me while I shoveled and try to catch every shovelful in his mouth. He'd flop into the snow and just roll around, relishing the cold powder as it coated his sleek coat. He'd stick his nose into the snow and just walk the yard, making a little trough where he'd been sniffing. I don't think he was ever happier than he was when there was a foot or more of snow on the ground.

Buckeye in his element

Of course, there were problems. Buckeye had seperation anxiety. He didn't like it when he was alone in the house and we'd often come home to find a pile of poop on the living room floor. We tried crate training him but he'd have none of that - he completely destroyed the metal cage we tried to put him in. Just grabbed it with his teeth and started pulling until it broke. Then there was the time I tried changing his food and it gave him diarrhea for a week. An 85-pound German Shepherd with diarrhea is not an animal you want to be around! But all in all, he was a good dog and a welcome part of our family.

One day last year, about a year ago exactly now that I think about it, I noticed Buckeye's eye didn't look right. It was a little cloudy, and when the light hit it just right it glimmered a strange green that I'd never seen before. My wife noticed it too. So off to the vet for some eyedrops, I figured. If only...

What followed was 4 months of misery for Buckeye and for us. At first the vet said he might have glaucoma, though that would be rare in a 6-year old Shepherd. She gave us some eye drops and told us to bring him back in a couple weeks. His eye got cloudier despite the drops, so back to the vet. She measured his eye pressure and it was high - dangerously so. It was, she said, causing Buckeye considerable pain. You wouldn't know it from his actions - he was a trooper. She gave us different eye drops to use in conjunction with the originals.

After several more vet visits and one emergency run to the pet hospital we had a schedule of 5 different eye medications that were given throughout the day. Imagine trying to keep up with morning pills, evening pills, and 14 doses of eye drops daily all while watching 2- and 4- year old boys. This was what my wife and I went through for four months.

The only explanation anyone could give us was that Buckeye's immune system was attacking his own tissue, and there may be no way to completely stop it. One early fear was cancer, so we did X rays and CAT scans but nothing showed up.

With a shaved belly after X Rays

Buckeye had the heart of a lion but even he started to lose his spirit. He no longer came running whenever I called his name, because he knew it probably meant more eye drops. He began to sleep a lot more than usual. He stopped following me every time I left the house, even if was just to bring the trash outside. When he started showing obvious signs of pain, such as rubbing his eyes with his paws and shaking his head, I knew that things were taking a turn for the worse.

By this time we'd gone 4 months of daily medication, and spent almost $2,000 in vet bills. I was reaching the end of what I could allow myself to do - we honestly weren't able to afford the $2,000 we'd already spent. When the vet told us that our next course of action was surgery to remove his eyes, I had to put a stop to it. It's a dilemma many pet owners face - at what point are you keeping the animal alive for your benefit, and not for its own? Buckeye - my beautiful, loyal Buckeye - was suffering and there was only one thing I could do to stop it. I made Buckeye's final appointment for the vet the next day.

That night it snowed. A lot, almost 8 inches. I left work early and took Buckeye out with me to shovel snow. After all the suffering he'd gone through he still seemed so happy to be out in the snow. We were out in the cold for a couple hours, then it was time to go to the vet. I don't need to relate exactly what happened there, except to say it was peaceful for Buckeye and heartbreaking for my wife and me.

It's now been 8 months since Buckeye left us. I feel an empty spot in my heart every time I come home and there's no pointy nose poking out the door to greet me. My Facebook status the day we put him down was "RIP Buckeye, it won't hurt anymore. You were a good friend, a good protector, and a good playmate. You were a very good boy, and I'll miss you." And I do.

I miss my dog.