June 23rd, 2010 by admin2

June 7th, 2010 by admin2

LOWELL — A police officer killed a pit bull with a bullet to the head on a Centralville sidewalk as the dog ran toward him through the open front gate of the owners’ house yesterday afternoon.

The shooting, which took place in front of a crowd on Lilley Avenue, many of them children, infuriated the dog’s owners and neighbors who were alarmed by the shots.

Police officials said the shooting appears to be justified, calling the unrestrained dog a threat to the officer and to residents.

T.J. Farrell, who lives down the street, said he heard two gunshots and ran out of his house in time to see the officer fatally shoot the pit bull as the dog, wounded from two earlier shots, lay on the sidewalk outside 19 Lilley Ave.

“You never know what’s going on around here and then you find out it’s a cop shooting. That bullet could have ricocheted off the ground and hit somebody,” said Farrell, who feared for the safety of his two 2-year-old twin daughters. “The dog didn’t even bite nobody.”

Deputy Police Superintendent Arthur Ryan said the dog tried to attack the police officer, who had been called to the house to help a city animal-control officer remove the dog, which was unregistered, from the home at about 1:30 p.m. Ryan said the officer was outside as the pit bull came running down the front stairs of the house and through the gate toward him. The

Alberto Marbert shows shell casings left behind after a Lowell police officer shot his pit bull dead outside his family’s home at 19 Lilley Ave. yesterday afternoon. The officer, along with an animal-control officer, had come to take the unregistered dog, named Ashes, for an examination, according to city officials.

Sun staff photos can be ordered by visiting our MyCapture site.

officer fired two shots at the dog, which fell to the ground.”Frankly, it appears that if the officer hadn’t acted the way he had, the unrestrained dog would have injured him and could have hurt anyone else who was there,” said Ryan. “Any time the officer has to use his firearm, it’s a serious matter. It’s certainly something no officer on the Lowell Police Department wishes to do. Clearly this is a stressful situation that happened.”

Ryan said the officer and the animal-control officer decided to euthanize the pit bull with the third and final bullet to the head as the dog lay on the sidewalk.

A mangled .40-caliber slug and two spent shell casings were all that was left outside the home shortly after the shooting. There

Alberto Marbert denied that his 2-year-old pit bull, named Ashes, tried to attack a Lowell police officer. FAMILY PHOTO

Sun staff photos can be ordered by visiting our MyCapture site.

was a divot in the asphalt sidewalk from one of the bullets.”They waited two minutes later when he was lying down and they shot him in the head,” 18-year-old Alberto Marbert, who owned the dog, said through tears.

Marbert, who lives at 19 Lilley Ave., denied the 2-year-old dog, named Ashes, tried to attack the police officer.

“My dog! My dog! I can’t believe this!” screamed Jane Marie Marbert, his 16-year-old sister, who sobbed outside their home.

Consuelo Cruz, who runs a day care out of her home next door, said she was terrified hearing the gunshots. She cares for two girls, ages 3 and 5, who saw the scene as their mother was picking them up and were shaken up.

“He didn’t do anything and all of a sudden (the

A tearful Alberto Marbert lashed out at police for shooting his pit bull to death in front of his home at 19 Lilley Ave. Two initial shots stopped the dog. “They waited two minutes later when he was lying down and they shot him in the head,” he said. SUN / JON HILL

Sun staff photos can be ordered by visiting our MyCapture site.

police officer) shot him three times. Pow! Pow! Pow!” Cruz said. “The kids are nervous.”Cruz’s 17-year-old son, Daely Betacourt, said he watched the incident from the window of his house.

“He shot the dog in the head for no reason,” said Betacourt.

Ryan would not release the names of the officers involved while the incident is under investigation. Lowell police policy requires that an internal investigation be conducted when an officer fires a gun. Ryan said there is no indication department policy was violated, and the officer remains on duty.

Department policy allows officers to use deadly force on animals who are an immediate danger to humans or other animals and on severely injured animals in order to relieve their suffering, Ryan said.

“The dog was a dangerous animal and dogs, in particular, don’t act the same when they’re injured and tend to get very defensive and dangerous,” Ryan said.

Assistant City Manager T.J. McCarthy, who oversees animal control as head of public works, said the Marbert family had been fined $75 within the last month for failing to register the dog. He said city officials didn’t immediately seize the dog because he was confined to the home and not roaming the streets, and gave the owners several weeks to register the dog.

“Obviously, we want to try to work with owners,” said McCarthy.

When an animal-control officer stopped by the home yesterday, the dog was still not registered and the officer planned to take the dog to Wignall Animal Hospital, the city’s contracted veterinarian, for an examination and care until the owners had registered the dog, according to McCarthy.

Jane Marie Marbert blamed the police officer who responded to the scene for leaving the front gate of the home open.

Said Ryan: “However the gate got left open doesn’t change the fact that if the officer hadn’t acted, we would be talking about an officer getting mauled. Nobody wants to be involved in these situations.”

Last month, Lowell officials euthanized two 16-month-old pit bulls after they attacked David Spaulding, a 68-year-old Chelmsford Street homeowner. Spaulding’s neighbor, Bruce Briere, has been credited with saving his life by breaking down a padlocked fence that confines Spaulding’s backyard and throwing pickets from the fence at the dogs, named Venom and Rampage, until they fled back into the house’s enclosed porch.

Erin Smith, The Lowell Sun 6/7/10,

June 2nd, 2010 by admin2

May 6th, 2010 by admin2

January 1st, 2010 by admin2

January 1st, 2010 by admin2

The final lap for greyhounds in Mass.

Voters spoke, so Raynham to end dog racing today

By Eric Moskowitz, Globe Staff  |  December 26, 2009

The greyhounds will bolt from the gate for the last time in Massachusetts today, marking the end of 75 years of live dog racing in the state.

Voters last year elected by a wide margin, 56 percent to 44 percent, to ban the sport effective Jan. 1, 2010. Wonderland held its last race in September. Raynham Park stages its final race tonight. Both will continue to offer simulcasting – enabling patrons to wager on televised dog and horse races conducted elsewhere – at least through July 31, as a result of recently enacted legislation.

The end of racing here is part of a national trend, driven by a mix of animal-rights concerns, waning attendance at dog tracks, and new statutes enacted by legislatures and voters.

“I just thank Massachusetts voters for giving greyhounds a second chance,’’ said Christine A. Dorchak, president of GREY2K USA, a national advocacy organization based in Somerville that grew out of a 2000 effort to ban racing in Massachusetts, which lost by a razor-thin margin. “We have finally reached this wonderful day.’’

The last race at Raynham, previously known as Raynham-Taunton Greyhound Park, also marks the end of live dog racing in New England, for now at least.

Live racing has ceased in recent years in Maine, New Hampshire, Connecticut, and for now Rhode Island – where its future at Lincoln’s financially strapped Twin River is in limbo – and after today will exist at just 23 tracks in seven states, 13 of them in Florida, according to GREY2K. There were 49 tracks in 15 states when GREY2K began in 2001.

Attention now turns to greyhound adoption and to the financial future of the state’s two dog tracks, whose owners hope to stay in business as slot parlors – a possibility that will be debated on Beacon Hill in the coming months, along with the prospect of full resort-casinos.

In the debate over racing, proponents of the ban deemed the sport cruel, calling attention to the cages where the dogs were kept and the 800 injuries suffered by racing greyhounds in the preceding six years. Racing supporters countered that the dogs were well protected and fed, said only a small percentage of dogs were injured, and called the ballot measure a move to put dogs over people, warning of up to 1,000 layoffs.

George Carney, Raynham’s owner, told the Globe earlier this month that he was laying off about one-third of his 600 part-time and full-time employees with the end of live racing but could sustain the full workforce if slot machines were allowed. At the same time, he and others are also mourning the end of an era.

“The more you think about it, the worse the news gets,’’ he said. “So many people have benefited from the track – it’s a hard pill to swallow but you have to take it and move on.’’

Many of the dogs, maintained by a network of kennels, will move on to race in other states, but several hundred will be looking for new homes. Raynham is working with GREY2K and the Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals-Angell Animal Medical Center to aid their adoption.

“People who voted to end dog racing should step forward now and take a dog home,’’ Dorchak said. “This is the happy ending we all worked for, and these dogs make wonderful pets.’’ 

October 28th, 2009 by admin2

TIM, ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO LET THIS HAPPEN??

Dog that bit wife of Tim Wakefield ordered put down

HINGHAM — An English mastiff dog that bit two customers at a Hingham art gallery, including the wife of a Boston Red Sox [team stats] pitcher, has been ordered euthanized.

The Hingham Board of Selectman on Tuesday night unanimously voted to accept the recommendation of the town’s animal control officer and order the 8-year-old female dog named Gabriella put down.

Before the vote, the board heard testimony from the victims, including 37-year-old Stacey Wakefield, the wife of Red Sox pitcher Tim Wakefield [stats]. Wakefield was bitten inside the Hingham Square Gallery in June 2008. The other woman was bitten last June.

The dog and another mastiff are owned by gallery owners Robert and Megan Ullman, who were called “irresponsible” by town officials.

The Ullmans say their dog is not vicious and they will appeal in court.

Article URL: http://www.bostonherald.com/news/regional/view.bg?articleid=1207941

October 21st, 2009 by admin2

The last word: Why old dogs are the best dogs

They can be eccentric, slow afoot, even grouchy. But dogs live out their final days, says The Washington Post’s Gene Weingarten, with a humility and grace we all could learn from.

Not long before his death, Harry and I headed out for a walk that proved eventful. He was nearly 13, old for a big dog. Walks were no longer the slap-happy Iditarods of his youth, frenzies of purposeless pulling in which we would cast madly off in all directions, fighting for command. Nor were they the exuberant archaeological expeditions of his middle years, when every other tree or hydrant or blade of grass held tantalizing secrets about his neighbors. In his old age, Harry had transformed his walk into a simple process of elimination—a dutiful, utilitarian, head-down trudge. When finished, he would shuffle home to his ratty old bed, which graced our living room because Harry could no longer ascend the stairs. On these walks, Harry seemed oblivious to his surroundings, absorbed in the arduous responsibility of placing foot before foot before foot before foot. But this time, on the edge of a small urban park, he stopped to watch something. A man was throwing a Frisbee to his dog. The dog, about Harry’s size, was tracking the flight expertly, as Harry had once done, anticipating hooks and slices by watching the pitch and roll and yaw of the disc, as Harry had done, then catching it with a joyful, punctuating leap, as Harry had once done, too.

Harry sat. For 10 minutes, he watched the fling and catch, fling and catch, his face contented, his eyes alight, his tail a-twitch. Our walk
home was almost … jaunty.

Some years ago, The Washington Post invited readers to come up with a midlife list of goals for an underachiever. The first-runner-up prize went to: “Win the admiration of my dog.”

It’s no big deal to love a dog; they make it so easy for you. They find you brilliant, even if you are a witling. You fascinate them, even if you are as dull as a butter knife. They are fond of you, even if you are a genocidal maniac. Hitler loved his dogs, and they loved him.

Puppies are incomparably cute and incomparably entertaining, and, best of all, they smell exactly like puppies. At middle age, a dog has settled into the knuckleheaded matrix of behavior we find so appealing—his unquestioning loyalty, his irrepressible willingness to please, his infectious happiness. But it is not until a dog gets old that his most important virtues ripen and coalesce. Old dogs can be cloudy-eyed and grouchy, gray of muzzle, graceless of gait, odd of habit, hard of hearing, pimply, wheezy, lazy, and lumpy. But to anyone who has ever known an old dog, these flaws are of little consequence. Old dogs are vulnerable. They show exorbitant gratitude and limitless trust. They are without artifice. They are funny in new and unexpected ways. But, above all, they seem at peace.

Kafka wrote that the meaning of life is that it ends. He meant that our lives are shaped and shaded by the existential terror of knowing that all is finite. This anxiety informs poetry, literature, the monuments we build, the wars we wage—all of it. Kafka was talking, of course, about people. Among animals, only humans are said to be self-aware enough to comprehend the passage of time and the grim truth of mortality. How, then, to explain old Harry at the edge of that park, gray and lame, just days from the end, experiencing what can only be called wistfulness and nostalgia? I have lived with eight dogs, watched six of them grow old and infirm with grace and dignity, and die with what seemed to be acceptance. I have seen old dogs grieve at the loss of their friends. I have come to believe that as they age, dogs comprehend the passage of time, and, if not the inevitability of death, certainly the relentlessness of the onset of their frailties. They understand that what’s gone is gone.

What dogs do not have is an abstract sense of fear, or a feeling of injustice or entitlement. They do not see themselves, as we do, as tragic heroes, battling ceaselessly against the merciless onslaught of time. Unlike us, old dogs lack the audacity to mythologize their lives. You’ve got to love them for that.

The product of a Kansas puppy mill, Harry was sold to us as a yellow Labrador retriever. I suppose it was technically true, but only in the sense that Tic Tacs are technically “food.” Harry’s lineage was suspect. He wasn’t the square-headed, elegant type of Labrador you can envision in the wilds of Canada hunting for ducks. He was the shape of a baked potato, with the color and luster of an interoffice envelope. You could envision him in the wilds of suburban Toledo, hunting for nuggets of dried food in a carpet.

His full name was Harry S Truman, and once he’d reached middle age, he had indeed developed the unassuming soul of a haberdasher. We sometimes called him Tru, which fit his loyalty but was in other ways a misnomer: Harry was a bit of an eccentric, a few bubbles off plumb. Though he had never experienced an electrical shock, whenever he encountered a wire on the floor—say, a power cord leading from a laptop to a wall socket—Harry would stop and refuse to proceed. To him, this barrier was as impassable as the Himalayas. He’d stand there, waiting for someone to move it. Also, he was afraid of wind.

While Harry lacked the wiliness and cunning of some dogs, I did watch one day as he figured out a basic principle of physics. He was playing with a water bottle in our backyard—it was one of those 5-gallon cylindrical plastic jugs from the top of a water cooler. At one point, it rolled down a hill, which surprised and delighted him. He retrieved it, brought it back up and tried to make it go down again. It wouldn’t. I watched him nudge it around until he discovered that for the bottle to roll, its long axis had to be perpendicular to the slope of the hill. You could see the understanding dawn on his face; it was Archimedes in his bath, Helen Keller at the water spigot.

That was probably the intellectual achievement of Harry’s life, tarnished only slightly by the fact that he spent the next two hours insipidly entranced, rolling the bottle down and hauling it back up. He did not come inside until it grew too dark for him to see.

I believe I know exactly when Harry became an old dog. He was about 9 years old. It happened at 10:15 on the evening of June 21, 2001, the day my family moved from the suburbs to the city. The move took longer than we’d anticipated. Inexcusably, Harry had been left alone in the vacated house—eerie, echoing, empty of furniture and of all belongings except Harry and his bed—for eight hours. When I arrived to pick him up, he was beyond frantic.

He met me at the door and embraced me around the waist in a way that is not immediately reconcilable with the musculature and skeleton of a dog’s front legs. I could not extricate myself from his grasp. We walked out of that house like a slow-dancing couple, and Harry did not let go until I opened the car door.

He wasn’t barking at me in reprimand, as he once might have done. He hadn’t fouled the house in spite. That night, Harry was simply scared and vulnerable, impossibly sweet and needy and grateful. He had lost something of himself, but he had gained something more touching and more valuable. He had entered old age.

In the year after our move, Harry began to age visibly, and he did it the way most dogs do. First his muzzle began to whiten, and then the white slowly crept backward to swallow his entire head. As he became more sedentary, he thickened a bit, too.

On walks, he would no longer bother to scout and circle for a place to relieve himself. He would simply do it in mid-plod, like a horse, leaving the difficult logistics of drive-by cleanup to me. Sometimes, while crossing a busy street, with cars whizzing by, he would plop down to scratch his ear. Sometimes, he would forget where he was and why he was there. To the amusement of passersby, I would have to hunker down beside him and say, “Harry, we’re on a walk, and we’re going home now. Home is this way, okay?” On these dutiful walks, Harry ignored almost everything he passed. The most notable exception was an old, barrel-chested female pit bull named Honey, whom he loved. This was surprising, both because other dogs had long ago ceased to interest Harry at all, and because even back when they did, Harry’s tastes were for the guys.

Still, when we met Honey on walks, Harry perked up. Honey was younger by five years and heartier by a mile, but she liked Harry and slowed her gait when he was around. They waddled together for blocks, eyes forward, hardly interacting but content in each other’s company. I will forever be grateful to Honey for sweetening Harry’s last days.

Some people who seem unmoved by the deaths of tens of thousands through war or natural disaster will nonetheless grieve inconsolably over the loss of the family dog. People who find this behavior distasteful are often the ones without pets. It is hard to understand, in the abstract, the degree to which a companion animal, particularly after a long life, becomes a part of you. I believe I’ve figured out what this is all about. It is not as noble as I’d like it to be, but it is not anything of which to be ashamed, either.

In our dogs, we see ourselves. Dogs exhibit almost all of our emotions; if you think a dog cannot register envy or pity or pride or melancholia, you have never lived with one for any length of time. What dogs lack is our ability to dissimulate. They wear their emotions nakedly, and so, in watching them, we see ourselves as we would be if we were stripped of posture and pretense. Their innocence is enormously appealing. When we watch a dog progress from puppy­hood to old age, we are watching our own lives in microcosm. Our dogs become old, frail, crotchety, and vulnerable, just as Grandma did, just as we surely will, come the day. When we grieve for them, we grieve for ourselves.

From the book Old Dogs, text by Gene Weingarten and Michael S. Williamson, based on a longer excerpt that originally appeared in The Washington Post. ©2008 by Gene Weingarten and Michael S. Williamson. Reprinted by permission of Simon & Schuster Inc.

October 10th, 2009 by admin2

As many of you know, I am on facebook pretty regularly.  Well, not only am I interested in the social media aspect of finding old friends, keeping in touch with all of my MN and ND relatives, but I also share a tremendous interest in DOG RESCUE and the tremendous efforts and triumphs we experience, as volunteers.

Well, one of my facebook friends and avid animal activists Jennifer Lee Pryor [yes, Richard Pryor's widow and crusader of Pryor's Planet], was recently outraged by some comments made on the Jay Leno show.  I’m going to post Jennifer’s letter and responses below, so that you can see Hollywood’s gross misrepresentation of canine compassion.  Not only will Chris Rock’s publicist not retract any remarks, he is not remorseful.  His information is as follows

Baker Winokur Ryder
Matthew Labov
9100 Wilshire Blvd.
6th Floor West
Beverly Hills, CA 90212
USA
Phone: 310-550-7776
Fax: 310-550-1701

And now, I give you Jennifer’s words along with her cursory response.  Please make your voices heard for dogs and animal cruelty everywhere!!  Those wih influence need to be cognizent of their words and actions.

Brenda

————–

Matthew Labov wrote:

Jennifer-
Thank you for your note.
He told a joke and millions of people laughed. It was just a joke, not meant to inflame you.

Thank you.
ML

**********

My [Jennifer’s] Reply:

Mathew:
I am not stupid, I have a great sense of humor…I married Richard Pryor twice, for hell’s sake… and worked with him on several projects…I KNOW WHAT’S FUNNY!
I knew that this would be the standard answer–doesn’t cut it!

Chris pounded his fists on the chair and asked: “what did Mike Vick do!” He went on to say: ‘Pit bulls aren’t even real dogs”…then of course, he went on to say it’s a ‘white thing…black people don’t like dogs, yadayada…’—and finished his highly unfunny, dated, routine!
Your patronizing comment, ” It was just a joke, not meant to inflame you.—”
is insult to injury! I assure you, many others are shocked and ‘INFLAMED’ as you put it, about this!

If you think this is damage control, you have fallen very short in your job.
One need only Google Chris Rock and Michael Vick to see just who else is disturbed by these comments.

“Millions of people laughing” doesn’t make it OK.
Apparently, it’s a black thing to defend Michael Vick…and bash Pit bulls!
Now, please understand my position: I am Director of a rescue organization established by Richard and myself and named after Richard, I cannot have anyone associated, with the Pryor name, who publicly defends a known animal abuser and feels this way about dogs in general.Therefore,Chris will not be associated with Richard Pryor and any project about Richard.
And if you have checked, to see if I have any ‘power’ to enforce this, I assure you I do.

As stated in my previous email, both my attorney and Bill Condon are aware of how strongly I feel and of my commitment to animal welfare.

And to repeat what I stated earlier, let the chips fall where they may.

You had an opportunity to try to repair this and you have chosen to patronize and minimize.

September 24th, 2009 by admin2

Hi Everyone!

I know and love these special ladies in Morehead, KY!!   They are several selfless women that try to save little lives every day and have saved over 500 dogs this past year!!  Their hard work and our contributions, transport volunteers and donors, keep them in business. And believe me folks, it is a thankless job that is unending, in today’s economy!

Dog Blessed has personally contributed $200.00 and is BEGGING you to please contriute at least $10.00!!  Every amount helps !!  Vetting is so much more affordable for our southern dogs.  And being the proud owner of one little southern belle named Annabella, I can say it’s worth every cent and more. For my dogs truly bless me, more than I have blessed them.

PLEASE FOLLOW THE LINK AND CONTRIBUTE~  DOG BLESS!!

http://www.petfinder.com/shelters/KY251.html

http://www.chipin.com/contribute/id/bd1ba4b1cbb649dd

From Julia:

“URGENT MESSAGE: September 20, 2009 – The members of STAR are taking a short break in order to catch up on bills and place all the dogs and puppies still in boarding or backyard kennels. We continue to need foster homes and funds. For the moment we are unfortunately not able to take in any more dogs until we catch up. Please consider taking in a dog for a week or two while we place them in rescues. We have worked very hard to keep all dogs alive and safe until they can get to a rescue or home. This has proved to be a labor of love but unfortunately we cannot keep up with the current intake level at the dog pound. All dogs are at risk. So if a dog takes your fancy please act quickly and call the dog pound at 606-784-4930. Please adopt a dog and spay/neuter your pets.

We are not the dog pound. We are a very small group of caring people who try to save dogs. Our goal is to get dogs out of the pound and to the safety of a rescue or a new home. Dogs that are at the pound are subject to walk-in adoptions that we cannot contol. They are also subject to being euthanized if the pound gets over capacity (this is a weekly occurrence). If you want to adopt a dog the adoption fee will include vet/boarding costs. When we foster a dog for more than a few days, another dog at the pound could die because we have no where to put it. We will only pull dogs from the pound that have a place to go.”

HELPPP!!