As they are talking both of them notice John Peters Sr. riding by the window with two of his ranch hands. Neither one of them says a word for a moment until he rides up the street.
Heather says, “I haven’t seen him in town for over six months. I wonder what is going on.”
“Don’t know, Heather, the only thing I know is that John Peters is always looking out for John Peters. Whatever he has in mind must be something he wants or wants done. He and that oldest son of his are two peas in a pod.”
“Maggie, thanks, and yes, I would like to be your friend. You’ve already made me feel a lot better. I think I should go over and see if Randy needs some help right now.”
“Go ahead, just remember we owe each other some time together and if you want down the road I could introduce you to Joan and Jessica.”
“That would be nice.”
Heather gets up from the table and runs across the street to their store.
Inside, Randy says, “Is Maggie all right?”
“Yes, she just saw me standing out front and invited me for coffee.”
“That’s neighborly of her. Did you see John Peters riding by?”
Monday, December 20, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Chapter Eight Viewing the Ranch
Mike goes off with his own assignment for the day. He will be working the southeast section of the ranch. Working a section means you check the herds grazing in the area, check water conditions, and check the fencing where there is fencing in case there is any need for repairs.
Joan is saddling up a roan mare who is around fifteen hands high. Tyler watches her and sees that she is very knowledgeable about handling horses.
Tyler gives Tequila a quick brushing and checks her hooves before putting her saddle blanket and saddle on her. Then he places her bit in her mouth and secures her head pieces. He and Joan mount up. Joan sits in a saddle like a man not sidesaddle. They ride out of the corral area and head north by northwest.
Riding side by side, Joan tells Tyler her plan is to show him the boundaries of their property and give him some insight to the size and condition of the cattle herd. Of course not all of the property is fenced in so there are occasional strays that wander on from neighboring lands and some of the Reynolds’ herd does likewise. His job in the future will be to gather those who are wandering and chase off those who don’t belong to them. His biggest responsibility will be to keep Scott appraised of what conditions are in every sector he rides.
“What conditions are you explicitly looking for, Joan?”
“Dad wants to know if you see an unusual amount of predator signs. We’ve lost a number of head to mountain lions in the past. If you spot those signs frequently, he will make a point in doing a hunt. A single lion can do a big number on a herd if left unchecked.
Joan is saddling up a roan mare who is around fifteen hands high. Tyler watches her and sees that she is very knowledgeable about handling horses.
Tyler gives Tequila a quick brushing and checks her hooves before putting her saddle blanket and saddle on her. Then he places her bit in her mouth and secures her head pieces. He and Joan mount up. Joan sits in a saddle like a man not sidesaddle. They ride out of the corral area and head north by northwest.
Riding side by side, Joan tells Tyler her plan is to show him the boundaries of their property and give him some insight to the size and condition of the cattle herd. Of course not all of the property is fenced in so there are occasional strays that wander on from neighboring lands and some of the Reynolds’ herd does likewise. His job in the future will be to gather those who are wandering and chase off those who don’t belong to them. His biggest responsibility will be to keep Scott appraised of what conditions are in every sector he rides.
“What conditions are you explicitly looking for, Joan?”
“Dad wants to know if you see an unusual amount of predator signs. We’ve lost a number of head to mountain lions in the past. If you spot those signs frequently, he will make a point in doing a hunt. A single lion can do a big number on a herd if left unchecked.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Chapter Seven Dinner at the S&R Ranch
As they eat, Scott, tells Mike about what happened in town and how Tyler happened to be hired.
With real concern on his face, Mike looks at Tyler and says, “The guy you just stood up to is the oldest son of the largest spread around here. He doesn’t like being put in his place. I would watch my back if I were you when he is around.”
“Thanks for the advice. I won’t go looking for any trouble with him; however, I won’t walk away from him either.”
Scott responds, “Tyler, what Mike just said is known by everyone around here. Unless you have a big need to go into town, I would rather you stay on the ranch property for a couple of weeks. Maybe, Johnny will cool his heels and go onto something else by then.”
“Dad’s right, Tyler. What you did was admirable. We only want to make sure that you don’t suffer having looked out for me.”
“I’m sure you have enough work to keep me busy for a couple of weeks and there really is no reason for me to go to town yet.”
Scott continues the conversation by asking Tyler to repeat what he saw at the Evan’s place.
After Tyler finishes, Joan says, “I don’t understand it. We haven’t had any trouble from the Indians for years. Why all of sudden do we have it now?”
Tyler interjects, “This may be a renegade raiding party and not a local tribe.”
“Why do you say that?” questions Mike looking surprised.
With real concern on his face, Mike looks at Tyler and says, “The guy you just stood up to is the oldest son of the largest spread around here. He doesn’t like being put in his place. I would watch my back if I were you when he is around.”
“Thanks for the advice. I won’t go looking for any trouble with him; however, I won’t walk away from him either.”
Scott responds, “Tyler, what Mike just said is known by everyone around here. Unless you have a big need to go into town, I would rather you stay on the ranch property for a couple of weeks. Maybe, Johnny will cool his heels and go onto something else by then.”
“Dad’s right, Tyler. What you did was admirable. We only want to make sure that you don’t suffer having looked out for me.”
“I’m sure you have enough work to keep me busy for a couple of weeks and there really is no reason for me to go to town yet.”
Scott continues the conversation by asking Tyler to repeat what he saw at the Evan’s place.
After Tyler finishes, Joan says, “I don’t understand it. We haven’t had any trouble from the Indians for years. Why all of sudden do we have it now?”
Tyler interjects, “This may be a renegade raiding party and not a local tribe.”
“Why do you say that?” questions Mike looking surprised.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Chapter Six Circle J Ranch
One hour after Joan and Tyler arrive at the S&R ranch, Johnny and his boys ride onto Circle J property. Circle J is the largest spread in the county. It is very close to five thousand acres in size. There are approximately seven hundred head of cattle grazing within its boundaries. Eight ranch hands maintain the herd, including two sons. There is one daughter along with their parents.
All six of the riders head for the corral. When they dismount, Johnny says to Les their foreman, “Take care of my mount then take the boys out to see what needs to be done for the rest of the day. I’m going inside to speak with my dad.” With that said he turns to head into the big house.
Hurriedly Johnny begins walking up the steps to the house, John Sr. opens the door and says, “You’re late, and where the hell have you been?”
“I had some business to take care of in town. Then we headed straight here. Why, what’s the problem?”
“How did things go, or aren’t you ready to discuss that yet?”
“Dad, let’s go inside, we need to talk where everyone can’t hear us.”
Angrily, John Sr. steps back inside the door and both he and Johnny head across the large living room to an office in the back of the house. Stepping inside, John Sr. moves to sit behind his desk and Johnny removes his holster before he sits into one of the chairs positioned around the room.
Johnny doesn’t show that he is pleased his father is uncomfortable when he is not in total control. He deliberately pulls the chair he selected away from the wall very slowly, to be closer to his father’s desk. Someday, this desk along with everything else with it will be mine. Then he looks up at his father.
“Everything went well, with just a couple of minor hitches.”
“Like what kind of minor hitches?” Senior responds.
“You told me you only wanted the parents taken out. Well the daughter recognized me and yelled out my name. Her brother and she were running for the barn when it happened, I knew he heard her. So I decided they couldn’t live.”
“Damn, Johnny, this is going to cause some problems. People tend to accept adults getting killed. When kids are killed, that becomes a different matter.”
“What are the other hitches you’re talking about?”
“Word is already out in town about the raid.”
All six of the riders head for the corral. When they dismount, Johnny says to Les their foreman, “Take care of my mount then take the boys out to see what needs to be done for the rest of the day. I’m going inside to speak with my dad.” With that said he turns to head into the big house.
Hurriedly Johnny begins walking up the steps to the house, John Sr. opens the door and says, “You’re late, and where the hell have you been?”
“I had some business to take care of in town. Then we headed straight here. Why, what’s the problem?”
“How did things go, or aren’t you ready to discuss that yet?”
“Dad, let’s go inside, we need to talk where everyone can’t hear us.”
Angrily, John Sr. steps back inside the door and both he and Johnny head across the large living room to an office in the back of the house. Stepping inside, John Sr. moves to sit behind his desk and Johnny removes his holster before he sits into one of the chairs positioned around the room.
Johnny doesn’t show that he is pleased his father is uncomfortable when he is not in total control. He deliberately pulls the chair he selected away from the wall very slowly, to be closer to his father’s desk. Someday, this desk along with everything else with it will be mine. Then he looks up at his father.
“Everything went well, with just a couple of minor hitches.”
“Like what kind of minor hitches?” Senior responds.
“You told me you only wanted the parents taken out. Well the daughter recognized me and yelled out my name. Her brother and she were running for the barn when it happened, I knew he heard her. So I decided they couldn’t live.”
“Damn, Johnny, this is going to cause some problems. People tend to accept adults getting killed. When kids are killed, that becomes a different matter.”
“What are the other hitches you’re talking about?”
“Word is already out in town about the raid.”
Monday, November 22, 2010
Chapter Five Heading Back To The S&R
“Dad. This is Tyler, Tyler this is Scott Reynolds owner of the S&R. Well almost no mishaps. That’s how Tyler happens to be here.”
“What do you mean almost no mishaps?”
“When I pulled up in front of the General Store to purchase our supplies this morning, Johnny from the Circle J grabbed my arm as I tried to get off the buckboard. I told him to let go. He refused, so I told him I’ll clobber him with my switch. He said he likes women with a temper. Then I told him he would be sorry if he didn’t. His response was who was there for him to be afraid of.”
“So, what happened next?” questions Scott impatiently.
“Tyler answered him, saying, me. Johnny was stunned; he told Tyler that if he wanted that job he was hiring on for to stay out of his business. Tyler told him that he was making it is business and he could keep his job. You could see Johnny was shocked, his face got beet red having someone actually stand up to him. So since we need another hand I took it upon myself to hire him. I was sure you wouldn’t mind.”
Scott turns to Tyler. “How long have you been a ranch hand, son?”
“What do you mean almost no mishaps?”
“When I pulled up in front of the General Store to purchase our supplies this morning, Johnny from the Circle J grabbed my arm as I tried to get off the buckboard. I told him to let go. He refused, so I told him I’ll clobber him with my switch. He said he likes women with a temper. Then I told him he would be sorry if he didn’t. His response was who was there for him to be afraid of.”
“So, what happened next?” questions Scott impatiently.
“Tyler answered him, saying, me. Johnny was stunned; he told Tyler that if he wanted that job he was hiring on for to stay out of his business. Tyler told him that he was making it is business and he could keep his job. You could see Johnny was shocked, his face got beet red having someone actually stand up to him. So since we need another hand I took it upon myself to hire him. I was sure you wouldn’t mind.”
Scott turns to Tyler. “How long have you been a ranch hand, son?”
Monday, November 15, 2010
Chapter Four Checking Around
Leaving the rooming house Tyler heads over to the saloon. Walking through the swinging entrance doors, he notices that a number of pairs of eyes are on him.
Walking up to the bar he asks for a beer.
“Do you want anything else to go with that beer cowboy?”
“No, the beer will be enough for right now. Who owns the red roan out front?”
“Why? She’s not for sale,” a voice speaks from the back table.
“Not in the market to buy, just admiring a good looking horse, that’s all.
“Anyone here work for the Circle J? I’m looking to hire on if there’s work.”
From the same man who replied about the roan, at the back table the new reply comes, “My dad and I are looking for two hands. How long have you been punching cows?”
Sipping his beer slowly, Tyler turns and looks at the man called Johnny. “Since, I was a young teen which is about half my lifetime right now. What are you paying?”
“The usual, you get thirty bucks a month, room and board. We also supply relief horses so you don’t work yours to death. We don’t mind if you do it, just not the horses.” Johnny starts laughing at his own remark and a couple of others follow suit.
Tyler looks around the room watching who sides with Johnny. I wonder if they were on the raid with him yesterday.
Johnny says, “I’m heading back to the ranch tomorrow around mid morning. Meet me out front around ten. You can ride out with me and talk to my dad. I’m sure he’ll hire you.”
Walking up to the bar he asks for a beer.
“Do you want anything else to go with that beer cowboy?”
“No, the beer will be enough for right now. Who owns the red roan out front?”
“Why? She’s not for sale,” a voice speaks from the back table.
“Not in the market to buy, just admiring a good looking horse, that’s all.
“Anyone here work for the Circle J? I’m looking to hire on if there’s work.”
From the same man who replied about the roan, at the back table the new reply comes, “My dad and I are looking for two hands. How long have you been punching cows?”
Sipping his beer slowly, Tyler turns and looks at the man called Johnny. “Since, I was a young teen which is about half my lifetime right now. What are you paying?”
“The usual, you get thirty bucks a month, room and board. We also supply relief horses so you don’t work yours to death. We don’t mind if you do it, just not the horses.” Johnny starts laughing at his own remark and a couple of others follow suit.
Tyler looks around the room watching who sides with Johnny. I wonder if they were on the raid with him yesterday.
Johnny says, “I’m heading back to the ranch tomorrow around mid morning. Meet me out front around ten. You can ride out with me and talk to my dad. I’m sure he’ll hire you.”
Monday, November 8, 2010
Chapter Three Sheriff McLane
“Well, I buried the couple and their two children near one of the corrals yesterday. I wanted to report it to you. I couldn’t find anything to mark the grave, whoever goes out will be able to pick out the spot.”
“What are you doing in these parts stranger?” stated in a negative tone.
“Just looking for some work, is anyone you know hiring a hand?”
“Circle J always seems to be looking for a hand; you can probably find one of their boys over at the saloon. They could tell you.”
“Can you get a hot meal in this town?”
“At the far end of the street on the left hand side is a small place its good with hearty portions.”
“Is there a livery stable I can put up my horse for the night?”
“Right across from where you want to eat is a small stable, just tell Sam, I sent you.”
“Thanks, I’ll go put up my horse and then have something to eat. I’ll try and find one of those Circle J riders you mentioned to see if they are hiring.” Tyler leaves the sheriff’s office with an uneasy feeling.
He is unable to put a finger on it; something seems missing in the way the sheriff isn’t really interested in what happened. Tyler unties Tequila and walks her down to the stable across from the dining establishment.
As he passes some horses tied up in front of the saloon, he notices that one horse’s rear shoe is making marks in the ground with the same indentation he saw where the raiding party tied up their horses. Coincidence could be, but I doubt it. However, that information doesn’t prove a damn thing. Right now it’s something to keep in the back of my head. I’m glad I didn’t mention the shod horses to the sheriff just yet.
“What are you doing in these parts stranger?” stated in a negative tone.
“Just looking for some work, is anyone you know hiring a hand?”
“Circle J always seems to be looking for a hand; you can probably find one of their boys over at the saloon. They could tell you.”
“Can you get a hot meal in this town?”
“At the far end of the street on the left hand side is a small place its good with hearty portions.”
“Is there a livery stable I can put up my horse for the night?”
“Right across from where you want to eat is a small stable, just tell Sam, I sent you.”
“Thanks, I’ll go put up my horse and then have something to eat. I’ll try and find one of those Circle J riders you mentioned to see if they are hiring.” Tyler leaves the sheriff’s office with an uneasy feeling.
He is unable to put a finger on it; something seems missing in the way the sheriff isn’t really interested in what happened. Tyler unties Tequila and walks her down to the stable across from the dining establishment.
As he passes some horses tied up in front of the saloon, he notices that one horse’s rear shoe is making marks in the ground with the same indentation he saw where the raiding party tied up their horses. Coincidence could be, but I doubt it. However, that information doesn’t prove a damn thing. Right now it’s something to keep in the back of my head. I’m glad I didn’t mention the shod horses to the sheriff just yet.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Chapter Two Heading to Town
Tyler heads Tequila northeast after they go over the rise as they leave from the ranch.
Northeast will take him to the town of Silver Lake. With heat waves simmering off of the trail, it feels like they are riding on top of a stove. He will not travel too far before he makes camp. After what he just experienced, he is not in the best of moods.
Riding for a spell, estimating they are close to five miles from the ranch this should be enough for a safe distance.
Spotting a cluster of trees, he moves Tequila slowly over to where they stand. Stretching from the saddle, Tyler notices there have been more than a few campsites made here in the past. Seeing fresh water running in a nearby stream this is a perfect place to stop for the night. There is enough of a grazing area for Tequila and a good field of vision all the way around if any one should come by. “This is the place for the night girl. I know it’s very early for us to make camp but I’m bushed and you can probably use the rest too.” Tequila whinnies.
Wearily he steps down, loosens the saddle cinch, and removes Tequila’s saddle and blanket. He takes off her bridle and puts on a regular halter. Next he clips a twenty foot lead rope to her halter and walks her to the stream to drink. When she finishes he moves her to the center of a good grazing spot and stakes her to the ground. Carefully Tyler lifts her hooves looking for stones and cleans them with a hoof pick. Taking a brush from his saddle bag, he begins giving her a good grooming which she loves. Tequila turns her head and gives him a big long sigh. “Spoiled horse.”
After the brushing, he moves over to a tall wide tree trunk, sitting next to it gives him some good shade. Even though feeling hungry he needs to pause and think about what he just saw and how it might relate to another incident he is aware of. Sensing he is feeling more than sorrow right now. He is down right angry about what he had to do back there. Something is definitely wrong around these parts and the local sheriff should be informed.
Northeast will take him to the town of Silver Lake. With heat waves simmering off of the trail, it feels like they are riding on top of a stove. He will not travel too far before he makes camp. After what he just experienced, he is not in the best of moods.
Riding for a spell, estimating they are close to five miles from the ranch this should be enough for a safe distance.
Spotting a cluster of trees, he moves Tequila slowly over to where they stand. Stretching from the saddle, Tyler notices there have been more than a few campsites made here in the past. Seeing fresh water running in a nearby stream this is a perfect place to stop for the night. There is enough of a grazing area for Tequila and a good field of vision all the way around if any one should come by. “This is the place for the night girl. I know it’s very early for us to make camp but I’m bushed and you can probably use the rest too.” Tequila whinnies.
Wearily he steps down, loosens the saddle cinch, and removes Tequila’s saddle and blanket. He takes off her bridle and puts on a regular halter. Next he clips a twenty foot lead rope to her halter and walks her to the stream to drink. When she finishes he moves her to the center of a good grazing spot and stakes her to the ground. Carefully Tyler lifts her hooves looking for stones and cleans them with a hoof pick. Taking a brush from his saddle bag, he begins giving her a good grooming which she loves. Tequila turns her head and gives him a big long sigh. “Spoiled horse.”
After the brushing, he moves over to a tall wide tree trunk, sitting next to it gives him some good shade. Even though feeling hungry he needs to pause and think about what he just saw and how it might relate to another incident he is aware of. Sensing he is feeling more than sorrow right now. He is down right angry about what he had to do back there. Something is definitely wrong around these parts and the local sheriff should be informed.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Chapter One Smoke Ahead
Tyler and his paint mare, a Missouri Fox Trotter, have been on the trail for two weeks. Nearly out of supplies, he hopes to reach the next town by the end of the following day. Taking off his hat and wiping his forehead and neck with his blue bandanna, he stretches up in his stirrups to see if there is some shade and water for himself and his horse to take a break. Reaching over his saddle horn he gently rubs Tequila’s sweaty neck. “I know its hot girl; I’m trying to find us some shade. One good thing about this heat, there’s no flies out.”
The noon time sun overhead is roasting everything on the surface. It must be over a hundred Tyler thinks to himself. The sky looks a royal blue without a cloud in it, what we need right now is a lot of rain. Everything is so dry that grazing is starting to turn brown, not good for horses or cattle.
Looking east he notices traces of smoke coming up just over the next rise. He is close enough to scent the smell of smoke. Smoke can mean a number of things. Ranchers burning brush which is not too smart in these dry conditions or something drastically wrong ahead of him. Reaching for his Colt, checking to make sure that all six of the cylinders are loaded and then reaching to check and make sure his Winchester has a round in the chamber he moves on.
Heading Tequila in that direction hoping it is only a rancher burning some brush and they can offer him and Tequila some water. Maybe his wife could part with some leftovers. Hardtack is getting tiresome.
Nearing the top of the rise he looks down upon the ranch and sees the house and barn smoldering. Pulling up on Tequila’s reins, he pauses to survey the situation in front of him. There are no horses in the corrals, or cattle he can see. From where he sits he can’t make out if anyone is around.
Slowly, walking Tequila downhill, he draws his Winchester from its scabbard and lays it across his saddle in front of him. Tyler feels tension building in Tequila’s muscles. She is bothered by the smell of smoke and death.
Approaching the smoldering buildings he sees where the bodies are lying on the ground. He dismounts and ties his horse to a rail post. Holding his rifle in his right hand he moves around looking for anyone who might be lingering.
The noon time sun overhead is roasting everything on the surface. It must be over a hundred Tyler thinks to himself. The sky looks a royal blue without a cloud in it, what we need right now is a lot of rain. Everything is so dry that grazing is starting to turn brown, not good for horses or cattle.
Looking east he notices traces of smoke coming up just over the next rise. He is close enough to scent the smell of smoke. Smoke can mean a number of things. Ranchers burning brush which is not too smart in these dry conditions or something drastically wrong ahead of him. Reaching for his Colt, checking to make sure that all six of the cylinders are loaded and then reaching to check and make sure his Winchester has a round in the chamber he moves on.
Heading Tequila in that direction hoping it is only a rancher burning some brush and they can offer him and Tequila some water. Maybe his wife could part with some leftovers. Hardtack is getting tiresome.
Nearing the top of the rise he looks down upon the ranch and sees the house and barn smoldering. Pulling up on Tequila’s reins, he pauses to survey the situation in front of him. There are no horses in the corrals, or cattle he can see. From where he sits he can’t make out if anyone is around.
Slowly, walking Tequila downhill, he draws his Winchester from its scabbard and lays it across his saddle in front of him. Tyler feels tension building in Tequila’s muscles. She is bothered by the smell of smoke and death.
Approaching the smoldering buildings he sees where the bodies are lying on the ground. He dismounts and ties his horse to a rail post. Holding his rifle in his right hand he moves around looking for anyone who might be lingering.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Something different for you to read
Owning Gregory gave me the idea of writing about my visions of the old west. My second novel "A Cowboy's Vengeance" was released last month. It is available in hardcover, softcover and e-book by going to http://www.joesmiga3.com/ or to Barnes and Noble, Amazon or your independent book store.
Next week I will begin posting excerpts from the book.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Chapter Eighteen Epilogue
This book is being published with a two fold purpose. One I want everyone to know the quality relationship I had with my dog. Second, I want to reach dog owners to educate them about what she went through and what she died from. Dog owners I cannot reach through my local cable TV program.
Last but not least, I needed a way to educate vets. I know Tova’s vet is talking up what he learned from this experience when he goes to conferences. I personally called every small animal college in the country telling them about it and asking them to make sure their students are aware of this. I offered to send them the report. Everyone I spoke to requested it. Interesting enough only three of them told me they were aware of Cryptococcosis. Some said it’s probably in their database but no one seems to be identifying with it. I realize that no one can learn everything but I want this book to be a wake-up call for vets and for dog owners.
Last but not least, I needed a way to educate vets. I know Tova’s vet is talking up what he learned from this experience when he goes to conferences. I personally called every small animal college in the country telling them about it and asking them to make sure their students are aware of this. I offered to send them the report. Everyone I spoke to requested it. Interesting enough only three of them told me they were aware of Cryptococcosis. Some said it’s probably in their database but no one seems to be identifying with it. I realize that no one can learn everything but I want this book to be a wake-up call for vets and for dog owners.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Chapter Seventeen After the Burial
I am numb. It is five in the evening, Linda is preparing dinner and I’m not even hungry.
My mind is still trying to comprehend she is gone. Most of the evening, I have tears coming down my checks. Linda tries to console me. When we put Copper down twelve years ago, I cried carrying her from the vet’s office and throughout the time we buried her. She was a great dog, but she was really Jake’s dog and I didn’t have the same emotional attachment to her as I had with Tova.
Tova was my dog.
Two days later, her vet called me. “Joe, I want you to Google something. He spells it for me. After you do, call me back so we can talk.”
I log onto Google search and type in, “Cryptococcosis.”
My first reaction is, “Oh My God.”
In short form, Cryptococcosis is a fungal disease that affects the respiratory tract, eyes, skin and the central nervous systems of dogs. The fungus exists in the environment and in tissues in a yeast form. The fungus is found in soil and fowl droppings. Transmission is by inhalation of the spores or the contamination of open wounds. The infection first shows up as lesions on the lungs, facial regions, legs and cerebral cavities. It rapidly spreads to their central nervous system and eyes. Organs may be involved and if the brain is involved the dog will show signs of circling, behavior changes, accompanied by sneezing and coughing, and in some cases blindness. Tova showed some of these signs.
After sitting almost motionless in front of my monitor for a few minutes, I printed out what the Google report stated about fungal diseases. As painful as this was to digest, it made logical sense to me. Being a hunting dog, Tova frequently had her nose to the ground.
I called the vet. His office said he would call as soon as he was through with a patient.
Ten minutes later, he calls. “What did you find?”
“It’s hard to believe what I just read.”
“Joe, I’m sorry, I’ve never seen or heard of this before and neither has my associate or the internal medicine vet Tova saw. We are all shocked. I’ve been talking to all of my fellow vets and they’re never heard of anything like this. I’ve searched the internet since we put her down and just by accident I found this. I really believe this is what she picked up. She lasted fifteen months after contracting it because she was so healthy.”
He ends the conversation as sympathetically as he can. I still can’t believe a beautiful healthy dog died from some damn fungus from bird droppings.
My next concern is to call my vet in California who takes care of my horses on my daughter’s property. I’ve seen bird droppings dried on the corral rails before and I want to know if we could lose a horse.
When he gets the message he returns my call and says, he’s never heard of a case in California.
My mind is still trying to comprehend she is gone. Most of the evening, I have tears coming down my checks. Linda tries to console me. When we put Copper down twelve years ago, I cried carrying her from the vet’s office and throughout the time we buried her. She was a great dog, but she was really Jake’s dog and I didn’t have the same emotional attachment to her as I had with Tova.
Tova was my dog.
Two days later, her vet called me. “Joe, I want you to Google something. He spells it for me. After you do, call me back so we can talk.”
I log onto Google search and type in, “Cryptococcosis.”
My first reaction is, “Oh My God.”
In short form, Cryptococcosis is a fungal disease that affects the respiratory tract, eyes, skin and the central nervous systems of dogs. The fungus exists in the environment and in tissues in a yeast form. The fungus is found in soil and fowl droppings. Transmission is by inhalation of the spores or the contamination of open wounds. The infection first shows up as lesions on the lungs, facial regions, legs and cerebral cavities. It rapidly spreads to their central nervous system and eyes. Organs may be involved and if the brain is involved the dog will show signs of circling, behavior changes, accompanied by sneezing and coughing, and in some cases blindness. Tova showed some of these signs.
After sitting almost motionless in front of my monitor for a few minutes, I printed out what the Google report stated about fungal diseases. As painful as this was to digest, it made logical sense to me. Being a hunting dog, Tova frequently had her nose to the ground.
I called the vet. His office said he would call as soon as he was through with a patient.
Ten minutes later, he calls. “What did you find?”
“It’s hard to believe what I just read.”
“Joe, I’m sorry, I’ve never seen or heard of this before and neither has my associate or the internal medicine vet Tova saw. We are all shocked. I’ve been talking to all of my fellow vets and they’re never heard of anything like this. I’ve searched the internet since we put her down and just by accident I found this. I really believe this is what she picked up. She lasted fifteen months after contracting it because she was so healthy.”
He ends the conversation as sympathetically as he can. I still can’t believe a beautiful healthy dog died from some damn fungus from bird droppings.
My next concern is to call my vet in California who takes care of my horses on my daughter’s property. I’ve seen bird droppings dried on the corral rails before and I want to know if we could lose a horse.
When he gets the message he returns my call and says, he’s never heard of a case in California.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Tova A Very Special Dog entry submitted for an award
Yesterday, I filled out the registrartion and sent four copies of the soft cover book along with it to the 23rd annual Benjamin Franklin Awards program of the Independent Book Publishing Association. The book is being entered under the animals and pets category. There are over fifty categories. Each category will have a gold and two silver awards. Wish me luck, Joe.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Chapter Sixteen Problems
I ask, “What is happening to her? She can run, play and act normal most of the time but she is becoming disoriented when she lies still. It is like she is fearful.”
The reply is, “They believe something is destroying her immune system but they don’t know what.”
Friday night and Saturday night are terrible. She is up every four hours and I’m afraid to give her anymore pain medicine than I am already. I have been sleeping on the couch near her for a week now. My presence doesn’t seem to matter.
During the weekend I deliberately watch her walk up and down the stairs and noticed she is hitting the wall. At dinner time I tried to give her a scrap off of my plate to give her some enjoyment. She took it and acted like she didn’t have it and was looking for it.
I lifted her upper lip and found the piece of meat stuck between her lip on her left side and her upper gum. I could see she had no feeling on the upper left side of her mouth. She could not feel it was there in her mouth. Oh God, she is falling apart and we don’t know what to do for her. I feel so helpless.
After watching her throughout the weekend I decided to put her down. She is developing more and more problems and only getting worse. I love her too much to see her suffer like this.
On Monday morning, we walk around Dorr’s pond on our regular routine. The way she walks around the pond you would never know she is not feeling well. When the vet’s office opens at eight I make an appointment to put her down at 3:00.
We will have our regular walk around the pond once more before the appointment. The rest of the day is very trying for me. It is an internal conflict between my wanting her to survive and knowing she really isn’t going to get better.
The reply is, “They believe something is destroying her immune system but they don’t know what.”
Friday night and Saturday night are terrible. She is up every four hours and I’m afraid to give her anymore pain medicine than I am already. I have been sleeping on the couch near her for a week now. My presence doesn’t seem to matter.
During the weekend I deliberately watch her walk up and down the stairs and noticed she is hitting the wall. At dinner time I tried to give her a scrap off of my plate to give her some enjoyment. She took it and acted like she didn’t have it and was looking for it.
I lifted her upper lip and found the piece of meat stuck between her lip on her left side and her upper gum. I could see she had no feeling on the upper left side of her mouth. She could not feel it was there in her mouth. Oh God, she is falling apart and we don’t know what to do for her. I feel so helpless.
After watching her throughout the weekend I decided to put her down. She is developing more and more problems and only getting worse. I love her too much to see her suffer like this.
On Monday morning, we walk around Dorr’s pond on our regular routine. The way she walks around the pond you would never know she is not feeling well. When the vet’s office opens at eight I make an appointment to put her down at 3:00.
We will have our regular walk around the pond once more before the appointment. The rest of the day is very trying for me. It is an internal conflict between my wanting her to survive and knowing she really isn’t going to get better.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
An Appreciation Article Regarding The Gift of Sight
Sight is a precious gift. When you realize you are having sight problems, it can be traumatic. In the mid 1990’s, my local eye doctor told me I had genetic cornea problems in both eyes. He said he would monitor them and began seeing me every six months. Over the next few years my vision became cloudy in both eyes, and this was a detriment to my driving safely.
I was sent to the Concord Eye Care Center in Concord, NH. Dr. Gordon Hand examined me and told me the left eye should have an immediate cornea transplant and the right eye would also need one within a short period of time. On, January 9th, 1996, he did the left eye and on December 8th, 1998, he did the right eye. His expertise and care for his patients was above and beyond what I’ve previously experienced with any other doctor.
Those transplants gave me back my sight, and left me with a special appreciation about those who donate their organs for someone else to have a quality of life. Since that time I have an organ donor notation on my driver’s license.
This year, 2010, I again experienced vision problems. My eye doctor diagnosed cataracts. I made an appointment with Concord Eye Care.
I learned that Dr. Hand was retiring in two weeks and I would be seeing their new cornea specialist, Dr. James Goldman. Meeting Dr. Goldman for the first time was a surprise. I read his credentials before meeting him and when he first walked through the door I was surprised how young he looked, of course everyone looks younger when you’re my age.
Dr. Goldman agreed with my local doctor that my cataracts needed replacement. Unlike my genetic cornea problems, this was due to the aging process. He explained the process of surgery to me since it is a little more difficult having had previous cornea transplants.
Then he broke the news to me, the cornea transplant in the left eye was starting to decompose. He told me I have been fortunate to have mine for this length of time. He would do the cataracts and see if my left eye vision would improve with only the one surgery.
On February 25th, 2010, the right eye was done. The surgery was so successful that the vision I now have in that eye is 20/25 without glasses. On May 17th, 2010, the left eye was done. While the cataract surgery in the left eye was successful, the decomposition of the cells causes them to thicken the cornea surface, which doesn’t allow vision correction with glasses to be consistent.
I decided to go along with his recommendation of a partial cornea transplant for reasons that are too long to put into this article. September 2nd, 2010, he did the surgery. It was successful.
I always thought, Dr. Hand was one of a kind at Concord Eye Care. Dr. Goldman performed three surgeries on my eyes this year and for each one he made sure I understood everything and was very informed on what and how he would be doing the procedures. Dr. Hand hired the right man to replace himself.
I am writing this article in hopes it reaches out to those individuals living with impaired vision which could possibly lead to total loss of vision. With today’s technology that isn’t necessary. Remember, the key is always to find the right surgeon who has the expertise and trust them. This pertains to any surgery you might need. You must do your own homework.
I am fortunate my local eye doctor sent me to Concord Eye Care.
I was sent to the Concord Eye Care Center in Concord, NH. Dr. Gordon Hand examined me and told me the left eye should have an immediate cornea transplant and the right eye would also need one within a short period of time. On, January 9th, 1996, he did the left eye and on December 8th, 1998, he did the right eye. His expertise and care for his patients was above and beyond what I’ve previously experienced with any other doctor.
Those transplants gave me back my sight, and left me with a special appreciation about those who donate their organs for someone else to have a quality of life. Since that time I have an organ donor notation on my driver’s license.
This year, 2010, I again experienced vision problems. My eye doctor diagnosed cataracts. I made an appointment with Concord Eye Care.
I learned that Dr. Hand was retiring in two weeks and I would be seeing their new cornea specialist, Dr. James Goldman. Meeting Dr. Goldman for the first time was a surprise. I read his credentials before meeting him and when he first walked through the door I was surprised how young he looked, of course everyone looks younger when you’re my age.
Dr. Goldman agreed with my local doctor that my cataracts needed replacement. Unlike my genetic cornea problems, this was due to the aging process. He explained the process of surgery to me since it is a little more difficult having had previous cornea transplants.
Then he broke the news to me, the cornea transplant in the left eye was starting to decompose. He told me I have been fortunate to have mine for this length of time. He would do the cataracts and see if my left eye vision would improve with only the one surgery.
On February 25th, 2010, the right eye was done. The surgery was so successful that the vision I now have in that eye is 20/25 without glasses. On May 17th, 2010, the left eye was done. While the cataract surgery in the left eye was successful, the decomposition of the cells causes them to thicken the cornea surface, which doesn’t allow vision correction with glasses to be consistent.
I decided to go along with his recommendation of a partial cornea transplant for reasons that are too long to put into this article. September 2nd, 2010, he did the surgery. It was successful.
I always thought, Dr. Hand was one of a kind at Concord Eye Care. Dr. Goldman performed three surgeries on my eyes this year and for each one he made sure I understood everything and was very informed on what and how he would be doing the procedures. Dr. Hand hired the right man to replace himself.
I am writing this article in hopes it reaches out to those individuals living with impaired vision which could possibly lead to total loss of vision. With today’s technology that isn’t necessary. Remember, the key is always to find the right surgeon who has the expertise and trust them. This pertains to any surgery you might need. You must do your own homework.
I am fortunate my local eye doctor sent me to Concord Eye Care.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Chapter Fifteen 2006
For Linda, Tova and myself the year was our typical year. That is until early September a month before bird season.
I came home from my primary care physician’s office. As I walked in the front door Linda hollers out from her office, “Take a look at Tova’s head.”
I did exactly that and nearly had a canary. It looked like someone hit her on the left side of her head with a bat. It was shrunk in. Immediately, I called her vet and said I was bringing her in.
As soon as we walked through the door the doctor came out from another patient’s time and took one look at her skull. “Who hit her?” he asks.
“No one. She’s never out of our sight.”
He orders one of this technicians to give her an x-ray and goes back in to finish with his previous patient.
I wait while she is being x-rayed and the other staff members inquire what happened to her. None of us has ever seen anything like this on any dog before.
The doctor looks at the x-ray before he sees me. The technician brought Tova up from the lower level and she is just as spry as she always is. She doesn’t realize that she looks a little lop sided.
The vet comes out and tells me there is nothing wrong with her skull. He recommends that I take her to an internal medicine vet and makes an appointment for me that morning. His technician tells me there is no sign of any tumor on the x-ray. At least that is positive.
Tova and I head for home before going to the internal medicine vet’s office. Linda is anxiously waiting for some kind of word. All I can tell her is we really don’t know and she has another appointment in half an hour on the other side of town.
Tova and I head over to the internal medicine vet’s office. She is young and very perky. You can see how much she loves animals they way she handled Tova. She is going to do blood work, a CAT scan and some other tests that I really cannot remember four years later. What I do remember is she told me they would cost $1,200. So I suggest if you need to go to one you bring your credit card. I paid for the tests and told her to call with the results.
Two hours later she calls and said the blood work shows her liver readings were higher than a dog normally has. She is concerned if she put Tova under for a CAT scan she could have problems with the anesthesia and die. What she recommends we do is an ultra sound instead. I approve the change.
Other than the unusual blood work Tova cleared everything with flying colors. What the heck did she contract?
The next day, I spoke to our regular vet again and he said she is not showing any signs of problems because of her liver. Some dogs are known to have higher readings. I told him what I spent with the internal medicine doctor and still don’t have anything to make any intelligent decisions. I told him I would just wait and see how she is until we find something concrete to make good decisions. I just wanted her to have a good quality of life and at that point, we didn’t know what was going on because she was feeling pretty good.
I came home from my primary care physician’s office. As I walked in the front door Linda hollers out from her office, “Take a look at Tova’s head.”
I did exactly that and nearly had a canary. It looked like someone hit her on the left side of her head with a bat. It was shrunk in. Immediately, I called her vet and said I was bringing her in.
As soon as we walked through the door the doctor came out from another patient’s time and took one look at her skull. “Who hit her?” he asks.
“No one. She’s never out of our sight.”
He orders one of this technicians to give her an x-ray and goes back in to finish with his previous patient.
I wait while she is being x-rayed and the other staff members inquire what happened to her. None of us has ever seen anything like this on any dog before.
The doctor looks at the x-ray before he sees me. The technician brought Tova up from the lower level and she is just as spry as she always is. She doesn’t realize that she looks a little lop sided.
The vet comes out and tells me there is nothing wrong with her skull. He recommends that I take her to an internal medicine vet and makes an appointment for me that morning. His technician tells me there is no sign of any tumor on the x-ray. At least that is positive.
Tova and I head for home before going to the internal medicine vet’s office. Linda is anxiously waiting for some kind of word. All I can tell her is we really don’t know and she has another appointment in half an hour on the other side of town.
Tova and I head over to the internal medicine vet’s office. She is young and very perky. You can see how much she loves animals they way she handled Tova. She is going to do blood work, a CAT scan and some other tests that I really cannot remember four years later. What I do remember is she told me they would cost $1,200. So I suggest if you need to go to one you bring your credit card. I paid for the tests and told her to call with the results.
Two hours later she calls and said the blood work shows her liver readings were higher than a dog normally has. She is concerned if she put Tova under for a CAT scan she could have problems with the anesthesia and die. What she recommends we do is an ultra sound instead. I approve the change.
Other than the unusual blood work Tova cleared everything with flying colors. What the heck did she contract?
The next day, I spoke to our regular vet again and he said she is not showing any signs of problems because of her liver. Some dogs are known to have higher readings. I told him what I spent with the internal medicine doctor and still don’t have anything to make any intelligent decisions. I told him I would just wait and see how she is until we find something concrete to make good decisions. I just wanted her to have a good quality of life and at that point, we didn’t know what was going on because she was feeling pretty good.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Book Review of "Sarah's Key"
Sarah’s Key
By Tatiana de Rosnay
My wife finished the book Sarah’s Key and said, “You should read this.” She explained a bit about the book, I didn’t know if I was ready to read another book about the holocaust and the death camps. However, I did place my name on the reservation list at the city library. It took a couple of weeks before I was able to obtain it.
From the beginning of the book, I became captivated by Sarah’s tragic story and those of thousands of French Jews. I hadn’t felt this personally involved in a holocaust story since I read the diary of Anne Frank. While Anne’s is a true story, this fictional novel recreates the tragedy of what the French Vichy government tragically did on July 16th and 17th, 1942. With some of history’s most inhumane treatment over 13,000 Jewish men, women and children were rounded-up and stored in the Velodrome d’Hiver, an indoor cycle track. For days they had no toilet facilities, no food, no water, medical care or blankets before they arrived at their final destination, Auschwitz for adults and the children in camps elsewhere.
The story begins with the French police invading the homes of French Jews in the early morning hours of July 16th. The young girl, Sarah, is ten years old, frightened, she hides her four year old brother in their favorite hiding place. She expects that she will be able to come back and release him. As the families are taken from their apartments some neighbors try to plead for them while many make anti-Semitic comments or merely sneer at the victims as they are dragged from the safety of their homes.
This fictional novel is told from two sides, one being Sarah’s and the other being an American woman journalist, Julia Jarmond, married to a Frenchman. Her journalistic task is to obtain the facts of what happened so her Paris based American magazine can do a feature story for the 60th anniversary of the event.
The book is a heart-wrenching illustration of how a child in these circumstances must deal with survival and also the tremendous guilt she possessed for locking her brother in the storage space. She has no idea if he was rescued and fears the worst, to her, it is all her fault.
Meanwhile Julia is uncovering some of the deep sense of French guilt and why they choose not to admit how they were responsible for gathering over 13,000 people.
The plaques, in the area of the cycle track, spell out the round-up was by the Germans, negating any French responsibility.
This book is very compelling and a must read.
By Tatiana de Rosnay
My wife finished the book Sarah’s Key and said, “You should read this.” She explained a bit about the book, I didn’t know if I was ready to read another book about the holocaust and the death camps. However, I did place my name on the reservation list at the city library. It took a couple of weeks before I was able to obtain it.
From the beginning of the book, I became captivated by Sarah’s tragic story and those of thousands of French Jews. I hadn’t felt this personally involved in a holocaust story since I read the diary of Anne Frank. While Anne’s is a true story, this fictional novel recreates the tragedy of what the French Vichy government tragically did on July 16th and 17th, 1942. With some of history’s most inhumane treatment over 13,000 Jewish men, women and children were rounded-up and stored in the Velodrome d’Hiver, an indoor cycle track. For days they had no toilet facilities, no food, no water, medical care or blankets before they arrived at their final destination, Auschwitz for adults and the children in camps elsewhere.
The story begins with the French police invading the homes of French Jews in the early morning hours of July 16th. The young girl, Sarah, is ten years old, frightened, she hides her four year old brother in their favorite hiding place. She expects that she will be able to come back and release him. As the families are taken from their apartments some neighbors try to plead for them while many make anti-Semitic comments or merely sneer at the victims as they are dragged from the safety of their homes.
This fictional novel is told from two sides, one being Sarah’s and the other being an American woman journalist, Julia Jarmond, married to a Frenchman. Her journalistic task is to obtain the facts of what happened so her Paris based American magazine can do a feature story for the 60th anniversary of the event.
The book is a heart-wrenching illustration of how a child in these circumstances must deal with survival and also the tremendous guilt she possessed for locking her brother in the storage space. She has no idea if he was rescued and fears the worst, to her, it is all her fault.
Meanwhile Julia is uncovering some of the deep sense of French guilt and why they choose not to admit how they were responsible for gathering over 13,000 people.
The plaques, in the area of the cycle track, spell out the round-up was by the Germans, negating any French responsibility.
This book is very compelling and a must read.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Chapter Fourteen Thanksgiving Day Hunt
Tova and I left home around 8:30. It would take us close to an hour to get to the farm in Contoocook where I wanted to go.
Arriving in Hopkinton the town before Contoocook, she realizes where we are heading and starts whining and pacing back and forth because she is excited.
“Only about ten more minutes, girl.”
We pull off onto the farm’s property and park in the area on the left hand side just off from the road. I get my gear on and place my unloaded shotgun on the roof of the Suburban. Tova is already decked out in her orange vest and her electronic collar which is not operating yet. All I have to do is put on her bell collar and start her collar functioning. She is squirming around to get out of the truck and get going.
Hurry up, Dad. I can’t wait to get out there.
“Hold it girl, just give me a minute.”
When she is on the ground I energize her collar and pull my shotgun off of the roof to load it.
There is a patch of low grass we must cross before we get to the first large field. We see all of the corn is cut; hopefully, we can pull a bird or two out of the gullies between the two fields ahead of us.
Tova is about ten yards off to my right and we are about halfway across the grass patch when a hen pheasant comes up right in front of her. The bird flies directly over her head and starts heading towards the car and the other side of the road. Tova is not far behind her.
At this point, I am swinging my gun around in the direction of the farmhouse about one hundred fifty yards away but will not fire. My next concern is my dog chasing that damn bird across the road and possibly getting hit by a car.
I call her a couple of times and she is oblivious to my commands because she is so focused on the bird.
I also whistle trained her over the years and always relied on the whistle before I used the electronic collar.
I gave on good loud long blast on the whistle and she stopped in her tracks. The bird keeps going but I didn’t care. What was more important is my dog’s safety.
I called her back. She took another look at the bird flying away and resigned herself that I wanted her with me and headed back.
When she got back I told her she was a good girl and wanted her to feel she was okay with what she did.
But, she got away. Maybe I could have got her if she came down.
We turned back to the fields and walked about another ten yards and the strangest thing happened in all of my years of pheasant hunting.
A large rooster came up in front of us and headed towards the field. He was an easy shot. Tova was pleased we got him after all of the running she put in to chase the hen.
You could see the joy in her eyes as she handed the bird to me.
Okay, dad let’s go get more.
I couldn’t believe that bird stayed still there all the time I was shouting for Tova and blowing my whistle for her to return. It must have realized how close we were but never tried to take off or run off while I was busy trying to retrieve Tova.
Those two were the only birds we saw that morning. At least we were coming home with one and a good story to tell.
Arriving in Hopkinton the town before Contoocook, she realizes where we are heading and starts whining and pacing back and forth because she is excited.
“Only about ten more minutes, girl.”
We pull off onto the farm’s property and park in the area on the left hand side just off from the road. I get my gear on and place my unloaded shotgun on the roof of the Suburban. Tova is already decked out in her orange vest and her electronic collar which is not operating yet. All I have to do is put on her bell collar and start her collar functioning. She is squirming around to get out of the truck and get going.
Hurry up, Dad. I can’t wait to get out there.
“Hold it girl, just give me a minute.”
When she is on the ground I energize her collar and pull my shotgun off of the roof to load it.
There is a patch of low grass we must cross before we get to the first large field. We see all of the corn is cut; hopefully, we can pull a bird or two out of the gullies between the two fields ahead of us.
Tova is about ten yards off to my right and we are about halfway across the grass patch when a hen pheasant comes up right in front of her. The bird flies directly over her head and starts heading towards the car and the other side of the road. Tova is not far behind her.
At this point, I am swinging my gun around in the direction of the farmhouse about one hundred fifty yards away but will not fire. My next concern is my dog chasing that damn bird across the road and possibly getting hit by a car.
I call her a couple of times and she is oblivious to my commands because she is so focused on the bird.
I also whistle trained her over the years and always relied on the whistle before I used the electronic collar.
I gave on good loud long blast on the whistle and she stopped in her tracks. The bird keeps going but I didn’t care. What was more important is my dog’s safety.
I called her back. She took another look at the bird flying away and resigned herself that I wanted her with me and headed back.
When she got back I told her she was a good girl and wanted her to feel she was okay with what she did.
But, she got away. Maybe I could have got her if she came down.
We turned back to the fields and walked about another ten yards and the strangest thing happened in all of my years of pheasant hunting.
A large rooster came up in front of us and headed towards the field. He was an easy shot. Tova was pleased we got him after all of the running she put in to chase the hen.
You could see the joy in her eyes as she handed the bird to me.
Okay, dad let’s go get more.
I couldn’t believe that bird stayed still there all the time I was shouting for Tova and blowing my whistle for her to return. It must have realized how close we were but never tried to take off or run off while I was busy trying to retrieve Tova.
Those two were the only birds we saw that morning. At least we were coming home with one and a good story to tell.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Chapter Thirteen 2003 After Surgery
By October, I was ready for bird hunting and so was Tova. We were in the field early on opening day.
The sun was just starting to come up and the pheasants released by Fish and Game were trying to warm themselves in the sunlight around the edges of the high grass.
Tova put up her first one after only twenty minutes out there.
She was ecstatic and so was I.
As we neared the end of the first field, she is off to my right cutting her way through some high brush. Suddenly, she goes into a solid point. She is actually looking in my direction. At first I didn’t see what she was looking at.
There, nestled down, is a nice sized hen not realizing that Tova was behind her pointing her out to me. I had stopped so I could be ready when she took off. She wasn’t nervous or aware of our presence so she stayed put.
I had to move about four feet in her direction to get her to take flight. She went down with one shot. Tova was thrilled and ran to pick her up and bring her to me to place in my vest.
Now, we have our two birds and that is the legal daily limit I’ve mentioned earlier. So, I unload my shotgun and call her to head back to the car.
Are you serious? We just got here and there’s plenty of birds around from what I’m smelling.
Dogs do not understand legal limits.
Begrudgingly, she heads back to the car with me.
“Tova, we can come out tomorrow.” I say.
I don’t care about tomorrow. These birds may be gone by then.
And so it goes, with my eager dog and myself as we drive home. She’s really not mad just very determined.
The sun was just starting to come up and the pheasants released by Fish and Game were trying to warm themselves in the sunlight around the edges of the high grass.
Tova put up her first one after only twenty minutes out there.
She was ecstatic and so was I.
As we neared the end of the first field, she is off to my right cutting her way through some high brush. Suddenly, she goes into a solid point. She is actually looking in my direction. At first I didn’t see what she was looking at.
There, nestled down, is a nice sized hen not realizing that Tova was behind her pointing her out to me. I had stopped so I could be ready when she took off. She wasn’t nervous or aware of our presence so she stayed put.
I had to move about four feet in her direction to get her to take flight. She went down with one shot. Tova was thrilled and ran to pick her up and bring her to me to place in my vest.
Now, we have our two birds and that is the legal daily limit I’ve mentioned earlier. So, I unload my shotgun and call her to head back to the car.
Are you serious? We just got here and there’s plenty of birds around from what I’m smelling.
Dogs do not understand legal limits.
Begrudgingly, she heads back to the car with me.
“Tova, we can come out tomorrow.” I say.
I don’t care about tomorrow. These birds may be gone by then.
And so it goes, with my eager dog and myself as we drive home. She’s really not mad just very determined.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Chapter Twelve Four Years Old
On May 14th, of 2002, Tova turned four years old. Each of her birthdays, Linda either purchased or made a cupcake and placed a candle on it to celebrate.
Remember, this is the dog she thought she couldn’t deal with, bless her.
We did our usual thing of hiking numerous peaks, walking around the pond more times than I want to count and spending time making the kids around the neighborhood happy. It seems that since we bought her, Tova became the neighborhood celebrity, especially with the children. I mean kids of all ages from three to grown ups. Of course, I count them as kids too, especially if they are in touch with their happy child self which is important.
There is one family about seven houses up our block that has three daughters ranging from three to ten. No matter what they are doing outside, they drop everything and come to the curb to pat Tova as we go by. Boy, does she ever eat up the attention. These young ladies ask my permission to get her a dog treat. I think they had their mother buy them just for Tova. They didn’t own a dog. It got so it became competition for the middle and the oldest one, to see who would ask me first. Then that one would go running off into the house and come out with a dog cookie. Boy was she ever spoiled. She would look for the girls when we got near their house, even when they weren’t outside.
Remember, this is the dog she thought she couldn’t deal with, bless her.
We did our usual thing of hiking numerous peaks, walking around the pond more times than I want to count and spending time making the kids around the neighborhood happy. It seems that since we bought her, Tova became the neighborhood celebrity, especially with the children. I mean kids of all ages from three to grown ups. Of course, I count them as kids too, especially if they are in touch with their happy child self which is important.
There is one family about seven houses up our block that has three daughters ranging from three to ten. No matter what they are doing outside, they drop everything and come to the curb to pat Tova as we go by. Boy, does she ever eat up the attention. These young ladies ask my permission to get her a dog treat. I think they had their mother buy them just for Tova. They didn’t own a dog. It got so it became competition for the middle and the oldest one, to see who would ask me first. Then that one would go running off into the house and come out with a dog cookie. Boy was she ever spoiled. She would look for the girls when we got near their house, even when they weren’t outside.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Chapter Eleven Down with the Flu
In mid-January the following year, I came down with a bad case of the flu. I couldn’t get out of bed for three days except to go to the bathroom. Linda would bring me soup and juices so I had plenty of fluids in me.
For those three days, Tova laid snuggled up next to me on the bed except to eat and to go out to do her thing. It was as if I was her child and she was protecting me. I couldn’t believe how she stayed with me the whole time. Yet, I was really glad she was there.
During the third day she would paw me at times, why I don’t know. Was she trying to get me up? Or was she sensing I was getting better and wanted some of my attention? When I sensed her pawing me; I would pet her and usually fall back to sleep. When I got out of bed the fourth day she was dancing around me as if I had gotten home from being away on a long trip.
I have never gotten over how she stayed with me knowing that I was unable to be myself and I was ill. She had an amazing sense of what was happening in our lives. You will see more of this in this chapter.
For those three days, Tova laid snuggled up next to me on the bed except to eat and to go out to do her thing. It was as if I was her child and she was protecting me. I couldn’t believe how she stayed with me the whole time. Yet, I was really glad she was there.
During the third day she would paw me at times, why I don’t know. Was she trying to get me up? Or was she sensing I was getting better and wanted some of my attention? When I sensed her pawing me; I would pet her and usually fall back to sleep. When I got out of bed the fourth day she was dancing around me as if I had gotten home from being away on a long trip.
I have never gotten over how she stayed with me knowing that I was unable to be myself and I was ill. She had an amazing sense of what was happening in our lives. You will see more of this in this chapter.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Chapter Ten Winter Time
In January, we were getting dumped on with snow just about every weekend. Cabin fever started affecting all three of us. Linda didn’t like to walk around much in the winter because she was afraid of falling on the ice. Owning her own business, she is cautious that she isn’t laid up and out of work where she couldn’t service her bookkeeping customers. I was cutting back on my long distance traveling as the roads were quite miserable. I found I could get more accomplished over the phone. I went to see customers only when there was a real need to do so.
Tova, started to get real antsy because she wasn’t getting the physical exercise she needed.
One night, after Linda had a tough work day, she said, “I thought you told me when she turned two she would slow down. She has as much energy as a young puppy.”
“She has slowed down some but with all of this snow it’s affecting her as much as it’s affecting us. Look at us, we feel like caged animals.”
“Yeah, you’re right, but you know if it wasn’t for her personality; I don’t think I would want to continue to deal with her. She’s lucky I love her.”
“She loves you too.”
“I know she does.”
“Tova, come on we’re going to go for a walk around the neighborhood.”
Oh, you mean I can get outside for awhile. This long winter stuff stinks.
“It’s dark outside and slippery. You might fall.”
“We’ll take a flashlight and I'll put my ice cleats over my boots.”
Guess what turning the corner a block from the house, I fell. Tova just looked at me as I hit the street.
What happened, you okay? I’ll walk slower for you.
When I got off of my butt, I brushed myself off and we proceeded to head down the street. I must remember the grade of that street; snow melts during the day, runs downward and freezes over after dark. Oh well, it isn’t the first nor the last time I’ll fall. I didn’t tell Linda I fell because I knew she would feel bad.
“Tova, when I see you getting this hyper I guess you and I are going to have to walk around the neighborhood more often so mom doesn’t get stressed by your high energy. She’s not used to dealing with a large dog, especially a high energy dog.”
Just keep walking dad, I’m picking up new smells around this snow pile.
And so the winter gave us a near record amount of snow. I learned to take out my snow shoes and walk her around Dorr’s pond. This gave her more than enough exercise if I did it twice a day compared to our summer walks around the pond three times a day. It was great exercise for me too. Whenever she saw me take out the snowshoes she would run up and down the stairs and do circles before we left the house. We would walk to the pond and then I would unleash her and put on my snowshoes. She loved it.
Tova, started to get real antsy because she wasn’t getting the physical exercise she needed.
One night, after Linda had a tough work day, she said, “I thought you told me when she turned two she would slow down. She has as much energy as a young puppy.”
“She has slowed down some but with all of this snow it’s affecting her as much as it’s affecting us. Look at us, we feel like caged animals.”
“Yeah, you’re right, but you know if it wasn’t for her personality; I don’t think I would want to continue to deal with her. She’s lucky I love her.”
“She loves you too.”
“I know she does.”
“Tova, come on we’re going to go for a walk around the neighborhood.”
Oh, you mean I can get outside for awhile. This long winter stuff stinks.
“It’s dark outside and slippery. You might fall.”
“We’ll take a flashlight and I'll put my ice cleats over my boots.”
Guess what turning the corner a block from the house, I fell. Tova just looked at me as I hit the street.
What happened, you okay? I’ll walk slower for you.
When I got off of my butt, I brushed myself off and we proceeded to head down the street. I must remember the grade of that street; snow melts during the day, runs downward and freezes over after dark. Oh well, it isn’t the first nor the last time I’ll fall. I didn’t tell Linda I fell because I knew she would feel bad.
“Tova, when I see you getting this hyper I guess you and I are going to have to walk around the neighborhood more often so mom doesn’t get stressed by your high energy. She’s not used to dealing with a large dog, especially a high energy dog.”
Just keep walking dad, I’m picking up new smells around this snow pile.
And so the winter gave us a near record amount of snow. I learned to take out my snow shoes and walk her around Dorr’s pond. This gave her more than enough exercise if I did it twice a day compared to our summer walks around the pond three times a day. It was great exercise for me too. Whenever she saw me take out the snowshoes she would run up and down the stairs and do circles before we left the house. We would walk to the pond and then I would unleash her and put on my snowshoes. She loved it.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Chapter Nine Cornstalks
Tova is sniffing around the edges of the field, and I sense she is still uneasy about entering the cornfields.
For the first half hour she steps in and out of the cornfield going in about three or four rows each time. She is testing herself and I just keep saying, "Good girl."
Suddenly, she freezes inside of the third row. I know she has a bird there. Then she's off chasing it through the corn.
Stop running you stupid bird. You're supposed to fly not run. I'm supposed to be pointing you not chasing you.
She and the pheasant are doing circles inside of the corn and then he cackles and flies.
I was so intent on watching what she was doing I missed him when he broke the top of the corn and he stayed low right over the tops heading away from me just as if he knew I was standing there.
She comes out of the corn after hearing me shoot and is looking for the bird. I tell her I missed and she doesn't believe me. After all she heard the gun go off. I'm not supposed to miss according to her. She gives me those eyes of her's.
You got it and you're hiding it on me.
She gives up looking and jumping on me and starts jumping at my side to peek into my game pouch on my hunting vest.
Finally she settles down and resigns herself to the fact that I missed. This was so funny. The dog actually thinks besides reacting.
After all my work, you blew it, dad!
She heads back towards the cornfield and now she is going further into the rows of corn. I am not only proud of her, I am happy with myself for not having tried to force her last year. She figured it out all by herself.
We came home with two birds that morning, the legal pheasant limit for the day.
I had a happy dog who was satisfied and I was going to cook pheasant that evening.
For the first half hour she steps in and out of the cornfield going in about three or four rows each time. She is testing herself and I just keep saying, "Good girl."
Suddenly, she freezes inside of the third row. I know she has a bird there. Then she's off chasing it through the corn.
Stop running you stupid bird. You're supposed to fly not run. I'm supposed to be pointing you not chasing you.
She and the pheasant are doing circles inside of the corn and then he cackles and flies.
I was so intent on watching what she was doing I missed him when he broke the top of the corn and he stayed low right over the tops heading away from me just as if he knew I was standing there.
She comes out of the corn after hearing me shoot and is looking for the bird. I tell her I missed and she doesn't believe me. After all she heard the gun go off. I'm not supposed to miss according to her. She gives me those eyes of her's.
You got it and you're hiding it on me.
She gives up looking and jumping on me and starts jumping at my side to peek into my game pouch on my hunting vest.
Finally she settles down and resigns herself to the fact that I missed. This was so funny. The dog actually thinks besides reacting.
After all my work, you blew it, dad!
She heads back towards the cornfield and now she is going further into the rows of corn. I am not only proud of her, I am happy with myself for not having tried to force her last year. She figured it out all by herself.
We came home with two birds that morning, the legal pheasant limit for the day.
I had a happy dog who was satisfied and I was going to cook pheasant that evening.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Chapter Eight Two Years Old
We didn’t start training again until the third week of June. The damn black flies in the northeast are so numerous in early summer they are a pain in the you know what. Their bite is worst than mosquito bites.
When we did start where we left off last season I learned she seemed to remember all that she learned. Now it is just repetition and more repetition.
During the summer we took her to places where she could swim in order to cool off in the middle of a hike. We learned Tova could naturally swim like most dogs but she wasn’t into it like a lab or a golden. She’d go in and cool off and then come back out.
By August, we started going back to the farm to hunt pheasants. I wanted her keep her skills sharp for the on coming season which will be her second season hunting in New Hampshire’s woods.
One of the things I enjoy about living here is you can be in the woods in a half and hour or less no matter where you live in the state. It’s the kind of state if you aren’t an outdoors person you are missing a great deal of what it has to offer and won’t get to appreciate its natural beauty.
Having a hunting dog and one who is a super companion with other activities makes all of it even more enjoyable.
When we did start where we left off last season I learned she seemed to remember all that she learned. Now it is just repetition and more repetition.
During the summer we took her to places where she could swim in order to cool off in the middle of a hike. We learned Tova could naturally swim like most dogs but she wasn’t into it like a lab or a golden. She’d go in and cool off and then come back out.
By August, we started going back to the farm to hunt pheasants. I wanted her keep her skills sharp for the on coming season which will be her second season hunting in New Hampshire’s woods.
One of the things I enjoy about living here is you can be in the woods in a half and hour or less no matter where you live in the state. It’s the kind of state if you aren’t an outdoors person you are missing a great deal of what it has to offer and won’t get to appreciate its natural beauty.
Having a hunting dog and one who is a super companion with other activities makes all of it even more enjoyable.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Chapter Seven Tova's New Experience
My wife and I have been cross country skiing a number of years. We felt that since Tova was a year and a half and used to hiking with us, she would do well if we took her out in the woods while we cross country skied.
Two days before we are to go skiing my wife comes home with this fleece jacket which has a beautiful checkered assortment of colors. “This is Tova’s winter jacket. I don’t want her getting cold out there, she doesn’t have much hair,” says my wife.
Tova looks at me and of course we have to try the jacket on.
What another one. What is it with you people? I’m a dog I don’t need a coat.
Actually, it looks beautiful on her. My wife is so pleased and after a few minutes even Tova is starting to act as if she feels important in it.
Oh this is neat, I feel warm and fuzzy. Are we going out now?
Saturday arrives and the three of us load up and head out to Depot Road in Auburn NH.
There are plenty of trails there to cross country ski or snow mobile if you have one. In the spring they make good hiking and bike trails.
My wife purchased new bindings for our skis this year and they were a marked improvement over the original bindings that came with the packages.
We load Tova in the Suburban and place the skis and poles in the back.
What are they for? Are they for me? I don’t know about this now…
We are fortunate to find a parking spot and we take out the skiing equipment and remove Tova and place a leash on her to safely cross the road.
Tova watches us putting on the skis and you can see the questions in her eyes, What are you doing? What are they for?
Of course she didn’t have any skis to adjust to. Her good personality of staying close and having a lot of fun running in the snow and trying to chew on scrub pine branches when she could, made us laugh, the three of us had a ball. She’s still in that puppy stage so we had to learn not to holler at her and confuse her. If she was insistent on not paying attention I used a whistle or the electronic collar to get her attention.
She looks at Linda and me gliding on the snow along with the help of our poles. It almost looks as if she is trying to figure out what we are doing.
I have a weird family. They are trying to walk around this stuff on sticks.
Two days before we are to go skiing my wife comes home with this fleece jacket which has a beautiful checkered assortment of colors. “This is Tova’s winter jacket. I don’t want her getting cold out there, she doesn’t have much hair,” says my wife.
Tova looks at me and of course we have to try the jacket on.
What another one. What is it with you people? I’m a dog I don’t need a coat.
Actually, it looks beautiful on her. My wife is so pleased and after a few minutes even Tova is starting to act as if she feels important in it.
Oh this is neat, I feel warm and fuzzy. Are we going out now?
Saturday arrives and the three of us load up and head out to Depot Road in Auburn NH.
There are plenty of trails there to cross country ski or snow mobile if you have one. In the spring they make good hiking and bike trails.
My wife purchased new bindings for our skis this year and they were a marked improvement over the original bindings that came with the packages.
We load Tova in the Suburban and place the skis and poles in the back.
What are they for? Are they for me? I don’t know about this now…
We are fortunate to find a parking spot and we take out the skiing equipment and remove Tova and place a leash on her to safely cross the road.
Tova watches us putting on the skis and you can see the questions in her eyes, What are you doing? What are they for?
Of course she didn’t have any skis to adjust to. Her good personality of staying close and having a lot of fun running in the snow and trying to chew on scrub pine branches when she could, made us laugh, the three of us had a ball. She’s still in that puppy stage so we had to learn not to holler at her and confuse her. If she was insistent on not paying attention I used a whistle or the electronic collar to get her attention.
She looks at Linda and me gliding on the snow along with the help of our poles. It almost looks as if she is trying to figure out what we are doing.
I have a weird family. They are trying to walk around this stuff on sticks.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
A Cowboy's Vengeance
I'm excited about my third book a western thriller, It can be viewed on www.joesmiga3.com or go the the interesting links on this site and click on there. It will keep you interested to the very end.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Chapter Six Learning About Cornfields
Tova has never experienced running in cornfields before so I am curious how this is going to work out.
When we arrive, Ben tells me he wants to do the open field first and then we can try the corn fields.
It’s fine with me. I’m just happy to have my dog running with one who is experienced. This is something she hasn’t had before. When you run an inexperienced dog with one with experience, the inexperience dog normally picks up things from the experienced dog. Not overnight of course; it is a process that you want to continue.
The open field was pretty muddy that morning as we had numerous days of rain before the season opened. Both dogs did their best slouching through the puddles trying to pick up a scent.
After a half an hour of scouring the fields Sam kicks up a rooster who flies in Ben’s direction. Ben leads it for around forty or more yards then fires. Good shot the bird went down with one round. He calls to Sam to fetch the bird. For some reason Sam doesn’t respond to his command. Tova looks at me and Sam looks at me, I don’t want to send Tova as it is Ben’s bird and his dog should do the retrieving.
After three or four more commands, Sam is still adamant about going where the bird is for some reason. Ben trudges over to where the bird dropped, picks it up, and with a disgusted voice says, “Let’s go over to the cornfields.”
At the cornfields Sam rushes right in amongst the stalks and Tova looks up at the tall eight to ten foot heights and looks at me.
What are these things? They’re too big. I’m afraid!
I can sense her fear and intimidation of the height of the stalks and talk gently to her.
“It’s okay, girl. Go ahead in.”
She continues to look at me and I can see she’s not ready to try it.
Meanwhile Sam is running inside of the corn patch, chasing some birds.
I call Tova over to me and give her a few pats of encouragement. I don’t want this remembered as a bad experience for you.
“Stay with me, Tova. It’s okay. You’ll learn.”
Ben turns around and says, “Force her, she needs to learn.”
“No, she’ll learn on her own; that there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m not going to force her.”
Tova and I separated from Ben and walked around the perimeter of the cornfield. Ben tried to follow Sam’s paths around the field as well.
When we arrive, Ben tells me he wants to do the open field first and then we can try the corn fields.
It’s fine with me. I’m just happy to have my dog running with one who is experienced. This is something she hasn’t had before. When you run an inexperienced dog with one with experience, the inexperience dog normally picks up things from the experienced dog. Not overnight of course; it is a process that you want to continue.
The open field was pretty muddy that morning as we had numerous days of rain before the season opened. Both dogs did their best slouching through the puddles trying to pick up a scent.
After a half an hour of scouring the fields Sam kicks up a rooster who flies in Ben’s direction. Ben leads it for around forty or more yards then fires. Good shot the bird went down with one round. He calls to Sam to fetch the bird. For some reason Sam doesn’t respond to his command. Tova looks at me and Sam looks at me, I don’t want to send Tova as it is Ben’s bird and his dog should do the retrieving.
After three or four more commands, Sam is still adamant about going where the bird is for some reason. Ben trudges over to where the bird dropped, picks it up, and with a disgusted voice says, “Let’s go over to the cornfields.”
At the cornfields Sam rushes right in amongst the stalks and Tova looks up at the tall eight to ten foot heights and looks at me.
What are these things? They’re too big. I’m afraid!
I can sense her fear and intimidation of the height of the stalks and talk gently to her.
“It’s okay, girl. Go ahead in.”
She continues to look at me and I can see she’s not ready to try it.
Meanwhile Sam is running inside of the corn patch, chasing some birds.
I call Tova over to me and give her a few pats of encouragement. I don’t want this remembered as a bad experience for you.
“Stay with me, Tova. It’s okay. You’ll learn.”
Ben turns around and says, “Force her, she needs to learn.”
“No, she’ll learn on her own; that there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m not going to force her.”
Tova and I separated from Ben and walked around the perimeter of the cornfield. Ben tried to follow Sam’s paths around the field as well.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Chapter Five Two Weeks Later
My wife has been going shopping an unusual number of times for her personality. Both of us really hate to shop. So I know something is up.
About ten days after our first hunt Linda comes up the stairs into the living room and says, “This is for Tova.”
What she hands me is an expensive blaze orange colored hunting vest designed for dogs which also had a sturdy belly protector to guard them against cuts and bruises on their delicate sections.
My wife, who rarely spends money on herself, spent more money on this vest than she would for a dress.
“Let’s try it on her,” she says.
What is this thing? Tova is squirming around while we get her legs through the vest, around her shoulders and over her back and belly.
I don’t need a coat. Do I have to wear this?
“What do you think? How does she look?” Linda asks.
“First of all it will do what you want it to. Second she’s going to be the best dressed dog in the woods.”
Linda gives me that look. You know the look, just leave it alone.
About ten days after our first hunt Linda comes up the stairs into the living room and says, “This is for Tova.”
What she hands me is an expensive blaze orange colored hunting vest designed for dogs which also had a sturdy belly protector to guard them against cuts and bruises on their delicate sections.
My wife, who rarely spends money on herself, spent more money on this vest than she would for a dress.
“Let’s try it on her,” she says.
What is this thing? Tova is squirming around while we get her legs through the vest, around her shoulders and over her back and belly.
I don’t need a coat. Do I have to wear this?
“What do you think? How does she look?” Linda asks.
“First of all it will do what you want it to. Second she’s going to be the best dressed dog in the woods.”
Linda gives me that look. You know the look, just leave it alone.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Chapter Four The Real Thing
I kneel down and remove the clip off of Tova’s collar. Immediately she starts to track.
The grass in the field is not very high and I don’t know where these chukars are sitting. I am trying to guess where they may be so I can walk towards them and give her a little heads up.
She is running and circling as she detects bird scent. Some could be old tracks and others could be being carried with the breeze. About fifty-feet into the field she stops and points.
I don’t see any bird there and the grass is not very tall so I am skeptical that she has a bird.
I tell her there’s no bird there but she wouldn’t break point.
I heard you say to move, there’s no bird there. You can’t see it. Don’t make me move. You need to get it out, I’m doing my part.
Slowly and cautiously I approach the area right in front of her. I have to look straight down into the patch of grass. By God, there is a chukar looking straight up at me. It is nestled down so far I couldn’t get a glimpse of it until I looked straight down at it. She located her first bird.
She must have read my mind.
See, I showed you there is one there.
I stepped backwards a foot and kicked the pile of grass. Upwards flew the chukar and Tova got to see her first bird in flight. I let it get out a ways before I fired then she headed right for it.
The next thing surprised me, something I had not thought of. When the bird dropped she went over to it sniffed it and went off to look for another one. I called her back holding the bird in my hand. She returned and sniffed the bird and looked at me.
Yeah, I saw it, what do you want, I found it for you and you shot it, let’s go get another one. Should be more out here.
I placed the chukar in my hunting vest.
The second chukar wasn’t far from where I downed the first bird and it took off just as we were moving around the field. I fired at it but missed. By this time we are half way down the field heading towards the opening in the stone wall to go into the woods. Since the chukar went into the woods I was more interested in going after the roosters that Pam placed.
“Come on Tova, this way, girl. We’ve got some bigger surprises for you than chukars.”
Hey, there’s more space out here we need to check to see if we can find some more before we leave.
She keeps tracking until she sees me heading for the break in the stone wall then she comes running to be alongside of me.
One of Tova’s great attributes is she likes to stay close. She is never more than forty yards off from me. I have a bell on her collar just in case she decides to take off. You never know what a new dog will do when it can become totally distracted with the hunt. She also has a Tri-Tronics electronic collar on her in case she doesn’t respond. I don’t want her getting lost or possibly running across a road and getting hit by a car. The collar and transmitter has a range of a mile.
As we walk through the opening in the stone wall, I am wondering where Pam has placed the roosters.
We walk slowly for awhile without any indication from Tova that she has picked up a scent. As we come out of the tree line to a small meadow she makes a dash for a brush pile and freezes directly in front of it in a solid point.
After what I learned from the chukar she found I was never going to question her nose again.
Slowly, I move closer to her and suddenly the rooster comes up through the brush pile as if he was shot out of cannon. I nailed him about fifty yards away and he tumbled to the ground. She ran after him when he fell and sniffed around him as if she were checking to see if he was still alive. I tried to get her more interested in the dead bird but no dice.
I just praise her to make sure she realizes I am happy. “Good girl! Nice work! Let’s go find the others.”
This is a big bird. He’s a lot bigger than the other one.
I put him in my hunting vest along with the chukar.
The grass in the field is not very high and I don’t know where these chukars are sitting. I am trying to guess where they may be so I can walk towards them and give her a little heads up.
She is running and circling as she detects bird scent. Some could be old tracks and others could be being carried with the breeze. About fifty-feet into the field she stops and points.
I don’t see any bird there and the grass is not very tall so I am skeptical that she has a bird.
I tell her there’s no bird there but she wouldn’t break point.
I heard you say to move, there’s no bird there. You can’t see it. Don’t make me move. You need to get it out, I’m doing my part.
Slowly and cautiously I approach the area right in front of her. I have to look straight down into the patch of grass. By God, there is a chukar looking straight up at me. It is nestled down so far I couldn’t get a glimpse of it until I looked straight down at it. She located her first bird.
She must have read my mind.
See, I showed you there is one there.
I stepped backwards a foot and kicked the pile of grass. Upwards flew the chukar and Tova got to see her first bird in flight. I let it get out a ways before I fired then she headed right for it.
The next thing surprised me, something I had not thought of. When the bird dropped she went over to it sniffed it and went off to look for another one. I called her back holding the bird in my hand. She returned and sniffed the bird and looked at me.
Yeah, I saw it, what do you want, I found it for you and you shot it, let’s go get another one. Should be more out here.
I placed the chukar in my hunting vest.
The second chukar wasn’t far from where I downed the first bird and it took off just as we were moving around the field. I fired at it but missed. By this time we are half way down the field heading towards the opening in the stone wall to go into the woods. Since the chukar went into the woods I was more interested in going after the roosters that Pam placed.
“Come on Tova, this way, girl. We’ve got some bigger surprises for you than chukars.”
Hey, there’s more space out here we need to check to see if we can find some more before we leave.
She keeps tracking until she sees me heading for the break in the stone wall then she comes running to be alongside of me.
One of Tova’s great attributes is she likes to stay close. She is never more than forty yards off from me. I have a bell on her collar just in case she decides to take off. You never know what a new dog will do when it can become totally distracted with the hunt. She also has a Tri-Tronics electronic collar on her in case she doesn’t respond. I don’t want her getting lost or possibly running across a road and getting hit by a car. The collar and transmitter has a range of a mile.
As we walk through the opening in the stone wall, I am wondering where Pam has placed the roosters.
We walk slowly for awhile without any indication from Tova that she has picked up a scent. As we come out of the tree line to a small meadow she makes a dash for a brush pile and freezes directly in front of it in a solid point.
After what I learned from the chukar she found I was never going to question her nose again.
Slowly, I move closer to her and suddenly the rooster comes up through the brush pile as if he was shot out of cannon. I nailed him about fifty yards away and he tumbled to the ground. She ran after him when he fell and sniffed around him as if she were checking to see if he was still alive. I tried to get her more interested in the dead bird but no dice.
I just praise her to make sure she realizes I am happy. “Good girl! Nice work! Let’s go find the others.”
This is a big bird. He’s a lot bigger than the other one.
I put him in my hunting vest along with the chukar.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Chapter Three Beginning Hunting Skills
As spring approached, we worked out in the yard four to five times a week re-enforcing her training and starting to teach her to fetch plastic training dummies, as well as a dead pheasant trainer. Training dogs to fetch and release takes a great deal of time and patience.
Hey you threw it to me; now it’s mine. In their mind if they have it; possession is nine tenths of the law, you have to work long and patient at getting them to realize they aren’t supposed to run away with it.
No matter what we did during the day; we always had family time with our dog. The rule for her being off the couch and bed didn’t last very long. When she wanted cuddling she would get up alongside of Linda and place her head on Linda’s lap. That was the message.
Keep it up mom that feels great. I can lie here a long time while you rub my back. See I can even turn so you do my belly.
When she wanted to rough house, she knew Linda wasn’t into it so she could coax me into playing on the floor with her. She was really funny, especially if I had a long day on the road and she wasn’t about to take excuses, she would put her teeth around two fingers of my hand and try to pull me off of the coach.
I haven’t seen you all day and now you’re going to lie on the couch. Not if I have anything to say. See it wasn’t that hard for you to get up.
Needless to say, I gave in to her. As one of our other dog friends said, “She had me well trained.”
Every weekend in May through July, Tova and I would go out into the fields two towns over. I would tie her to a tree and drag a dummy soaked with pheasant scent around and across the field. She didn’t like being left in that manner. When I released her she would follow the scent trails where I dragged the dummy through the grass. On the opposite end of the fields she would have her reward a dummy soaked smelling like a pheasant. She would walk around with it in her mouth so proud of her accomplishments I could see the hint of happiness in her eyes.
You thought you were going to get away with hiding this on me didn’t you. You can almost see in her eyes.
In July, I started using a .22 caliber blank gun to see how she reacted to gun shots. It never phased her one bit. I guess it goes back to the breeder telling me they would fire shotguns so the puppies could get used to the noise and not feel threatened by it. I’m not sure if that was the reason but she definitely wasn’t gun shy, thank God. It can really be a bitch for a hunter to have a dog who is gun shy.
Next, we try real pheasants at the preserve.
Hey you threw it to me; now it’s mine. In their mind if they have it; possession is nine tenths of the law, you have to work long and patient at getting them to realize they aren’t supposed to run away with it.
No matter what we did during the day; we always had family time with our dog. The rule for her being off the couch and bed didn’t last very long. When she wanted cuddling she would get up alongside of Linda and place her head on Linda’s lap. That was the message.
Keep it up mom that feels great. I can lie here a long time while you rub my back. See I can even turn so you do my belly.
When she wanted to rough house, she knew Linda wasn’t into it so she could coax me into playing on the floor with her. She was really funny, especially if I had a long day on the road and she wasn’t about to take excuses, she would put her teeth around two fingers of my hand and try to pull me off of the coach.
I haven’t seen you all day and now you’re going to lie on the couch. Not if I have anything to say. See it wasn’t that hard for you to get up.
Needless to say, I gave in to her. As one of our other dog friends said, “She had me well trained.”
Every weekend in May through July, Tova and I would go out into the fields two towns over. I would tie her to a tree and drag a dummy soaked with pheasant scent around and across the field. She didn’t like being left in that manner. When I released her she would follow the scent trails where I dragged the dummy through the grass. On the opposite end of the fields she would have her reward a dummy soaked smelling like a pheasant. She would walk around with it in her mouth so proud of her accomplishments I could see the hint of happiness in her eyes.
You thought you were going to get away with hiding this on me didn’t you. You can almost see in her eyes.
In July, I started using a .22 caliber blank gun to see how she reacted to gun shots. It never phased her one bit. I guess it goes back to the breeder telling me they would fire shotguns so the puppies could get used to the noise and not feel threatened by it. I’m not sure if that was the reason but she definitely wasn’t gun shy, thank God. It can really be a bitch for a hunter to have a dog who is gun shy.
Next, we try real pheasants at the preserve.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Chapter Two Meeting Doctor B
Inside of the veterinarian’s office all of the technicians and clerical staff are ogling over Tova. I am as proud as a peacock. Customers with other pets are straining to see her, trying hard not to upset their own animals.
We were placed in one of the examining rooms to wait for the doctor. Doctor Bloomfield is a great vet. He is also a hunter who owns two Chesapeake Bay Retrievers. So he’s cool with hunting dogs.
As I stroke her back and her head, “Easy girl, this is okay, nothing to be afraid of.”
You take me to so many different places. Why don’t we stay put sometime?
As the six-foot doctor with a large build enters the room he looks at Tova appearing amazed at what he sees. Then he places her on the table.
Why did this man put me on this cold table? It’s slippery and hard to stand up. Ouch, watch where you grab, dummy. I don’t really like this!
While checking her for any possible imperfections or aliments he says, “You’re going to show her, right. She is show quality.”
“No, I never planned to show her. I just want a good bird dog and a good companion.”
“Well, you should, she’d win a number of awards.”
“Doc, I’m not into that. It’s not my style.”
“You’ve got yourself a good dog here. Where the hell did you steal her?”
So I proceed to tell him how I found the breeder and he just snickers and says, “You paid a lot less than she’s worth. Damn, she’ll be good, I can tell looking at her. She’ll be at least seventy pounds you know. That’s bordering on the size of a small male.”
“Hey, one of the reasons, I decided to get a female was because the stats say they range from 48-60 pounds. She’s going to live in the house. My wife’s never experienced a large dog before and she already knows this is a high energy breed. I told her if she could live through the first two years we won’t get divorced.”
“What can I tell you. I don’t care what the books say. I’m just talking from my experience. She’ll be at least seventy pounds. One more thing, I recommend you get a chip for her.” (A chip being a micro chip implanted under her skin.) I had the chip implanted before we left.
We were placed in one of the examining rooms to wait for the doctor. Doctor Bloomfield is a great vet. He is also a hunter who owns two Chesapeake Bay Retrievers. So he’s cool with hunting dogs.
As I stroke her back and her head, “Easy girl, this is okay, nothing to be afraid of.”
You take me to so many different places. Why don’t we stay put sometime?
As the six-foot doctor with a large build enters the room he looks at Tova appearing amazed at what he sees. Then he places her on the table.
Why did this man put me on this cold table? It’s slippery and hard to stand up. Ouch, watch where you grab, dummy. I don’t really like this!
While checking her for any possible imperfections or aliments he says, “You’re going to show her, right. She is show quality.”
“No, I never planned to show her. I just want a good bird dog and a good companion.”
“Well, you should, she’d win a number of awards.”
“Doc, I’m not into that. It’s not my style.”
“You’ve got yourself a good dog here. Where the hell did you steal her?”
So I proceed to tell him how I found the breeder and he just snickers and says, “You paid a lot less than she’s worth. Damn, she’ll be good, I can tell looking at her. She’ll be at least seventy pounds you know. That’s bordering on the size of a small male.”
“Hey, one of the reasons, I decided to get a female was because the stats say they range from 48-60 pounds. She’s going to live in the house. My wife’s never experienced a large dog before and she already knows this is a high energy breed. I told her if she could live through the first two years we won’t get divorced.”
“What can I tell you. I don’t care what the books say. I’m just talking from my experience. She’ll be at least seventy pounds. One more thing, I recommend you get a chip for her.” (A chip being a micro chip implanted under her skin.) I had the chip implanted before we left.
Thanks for taking me off that table, dad. I guess I can call you dad, mine seems to have disappeared. Let’s get out of here now.
We moved to the reception area so I could book her for scheduled shots.
I left not really believing him. C’mon all of the books I read on the breed say otherwise. They should be right. Wrong, full grown Tova became a lean seventy-five pounds and solid muscle. So much for the books.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Chapter One
Hey, you can put me down, I can walk. Why are you opening up those big doors? You’re not going to put me into that are you? What the heck is this thing? I’m leaving, why?
“Easy there girl, don’t be afraid. Nothing is going to hurt you.”
Easy for you to say big guy, I’m just a little puppy.
Tova yipped for awhile then fell asleep listening to music from the radio; and the rhythm of the ride, she slept most of the way home. She had comfortable blankets to curl up on and she was probably tired from playing with her brothers and sister. Waking up in this strange cage was not something she enjoyed. She began yipping again as puppies usually do and whining when yipping didn’t get her results. Fortunately, we were close to the house when she decided to take a dump. It was open the windows time; this little girl began to stink up the Suburban.
Where am I? What is the humming noise I’m hearing? Where is everyone else? This is scary! Let me out of here.
As I pull into the driveway, my wife, Linda walks out of the house. She couldn’t wait to see this puppy. I’m sure she realized I was not coming home empty handed. Gently I lifted Tova out of the cage and placed her down on the lawn. She walked around sniffing new odors and looked at us.
Why did you take me away? I was happy where I lived. Bring me back there.
Linda reached down and picks her up. You could see the pleasure in her eyes as she held another dog again. “I’ll bring her around back while you clean out the truck. Tova needs to scent the back yard.” The two of them head behind the house while I removed the cage and cleaned up the back end of my vehicle and hosed down the cage before I returned it to the owner.
Starting my vehicle, I could imagine her saying, Wait for me, don’t leave without me. Take me back home...
(Photo by Linda H. Feinberg)
Friday, June 4, 2010
Prologue---From Both Sides
I’ve been dealing with losing our dog by dreaming of getting the hunting dog some day. I subscribed to Gun Dog magazine shortly after Copper died to study how to choose a pup and a breeder. Gun Dog magazine is full of wonderful articles on all types of tips and stories of hunting dogs and their owners.
Since I already had a file on breeders I would contact, it was only a matter of finding if one of them had a female that I could check out. I wanted a female because she would be boarded in the house and I didn’t want my walls marked up as territory.
One breeder in Brunswick, Maine, had an eight week old litter ready to sell. There were nine pups in the litter, five were pre-sold before they were born, and now there are two males and two female available. My wife borrowed a cage from a friend just in case I wound up bringing one home.
Brunswick, Maine is two and a half hour drive from our home. As I pulled into the breeder’s yard I was greeted by three adult shorthairs barking to let the owner know someone was there.
The lady of the house came out; she told me she is the breeder.
We spoke for awhile about things we had already discussed on the phone. I guess I was just being sure I was making a good choice. What I learned from Gun Dog magazine is you can purchase a pup from a breeder but you need to be sure the dog is from good hunting stock. There are many breeders who breed their dogs more for show. The genetics in their lines tends to effect how they respond in the field. In other words if they don’t have the nose, it doesn’t matter how much you paid for the dog. It just won’t work.
To show me the quality of the litter, she took me out to the backyard where the puppies were. She showed me the parents and the grandparents. Taking a fishing pole with a pheasant feather attached to its line; she dragged the feather along the grass. It was amazing to watch four little puppies, tails wagging running to the feather and all four point. I had never seen such a sight before. But there was no question; they had the genes for hunting pheasants.
Next, I had to decide which female I would take. Putting each one through some of the exercises I learned about selecting a puppy, I found both dogs were about the same. However, one seemed to be more attentive to me then the other. I chose her.
After giving the breeder a check, she asked me if I had a name for her.
“I told her that she would be named Tova. Tova is an abbreviated form of the female noun spelled Tovah. It means good in Hebrew.” Since I am Jewish, I wanted her to have a Hebrew name.
She laughed telling me her son always picks names for each puppy after they are born, he had named her Zion. She thought Tova would be very appropriate for her.
Before I left the breeder gave me all of the registration papers I needed to register her with the American Kennel Club and records of her puppy shots.
Tova and I needed to head for home.
“Come on girl, we’re going home.”
But,I am home, what are you talking about?
Since I already had a file on breeders I would contact, it was only a matter of finding if one of them had a female that I could check out. I wanted a female because she would be boarded in the house and I didn’t want my walls marked up as territory.
One breeder in Brunswick, Maine, had an eight week old litter ready to sell. There were nine pups in the litter, five were pre-sold before they were born, and now there are two males and two female available. My wife borrowed a cage from a friend just in case I wound up bringing one home.
Brunswick, Maine is two and a half hour drive from our home. As I pulled into the breeder’s yard I was greeted by three adult shorthairs barking to let the owner know someone was there.
The lady of the house came out; she told me she is the breeder.
We spoke for awhile about things we had already discussed on the phone. I guess I was just being sure I was making a good choice. What I learned from Gun Dog magazine is you can purchase a pup from a breeder but you need to be sure the dog is from good hunting stock. There are many breeders who breed their dogs more for show. The genetics in their lines tends to effect how they respond in the field. In other words if they don’t have the nose, it doesn’t matter how much you paid for the dog. It just won’t work.
To show me the quality of the litter, she took me out to the backyard where the puppies were. She showed me the parents and the grandparents. Taking a fishing pole with a pheasant feather attached to its line; she dragged the feather along the grass. It was amazing to watch four little puppies, tails wagging running to the feather and all four point. I had never seen such a sight before. But there was no question; they had the genes for hunting pheasants.
Next, I had to decide which female I would take. Putting each one through some of the exercises I learned about selecting a puppy, I found both dogs were about the same. However, one seemed to be more attentive to me then the other. I chose her.
After giving the breeder a check, she asked me if I had a name for her.
“I told her that she would be named Tova. Tova is an abbreviated form of the female noun spelled Tovah. It means good in Hebrew.” Since I am Jewish, I wanted her to have a Hebrew name.
She laughed telling me her son always picks names for each puppy after they are born, he had named her Zion. She thought Tova would be very appropriate for her.
Before I left the breeder gave me all of the registration papers I needed to register her with the American Kennel Club and records of her puppy shots.
Tova and I needed to head for home.
“Come on girl, we’re going home.”
But,I am home, what are you talking about?
Sunday, May 30, 2010
The Book About Tova
A Very Special Dog
Tova is the story of an extraordinary bird dog and her owner Joe Smiga. It is about their journey together, and it is written as a tribute to Tova’s life.
In Hebrew, Tova is a girl’s name that means “beautiful” or “good.” The name perfectly fits the German shorthaired pointer that Joe Smiga and his wife, Linda, came to know and love.
Through the years of her life, Tova brought love, devotion, fun, and joy into Joe and Linda’s life, and then her life was cut short by a hidden disease. It was a disease that puzzled veterinarians and internal medicine veterinarians; a disease that destroyed her immune system, and yet no one seemed to even know it existed. The disease was called Cryptococcosis, and it robbed Tova of her life at the age of nine.
Author, Joe Smiga is on a mission to educate veterinarians and dog owners about Cryptococcosis. If caught early, it can be treated, but it comes on gradually, and the symptoms are not yet widely recognized by most veterinarians. This is something that Joe Smiga wants to change.
Author Smiga hopes that his book will serve as a wake-up call to all pet owners and veterinarians.
Uniquely original and told from not only Joe’s perspective, but from Tova’s as well, Tova is the life story of a remarkable bird dog, written as a labor of love. It is a must read for all pet owners.
Tova is the story of an extraordinary bird dog and her owner Joe Smiga. It is about their journey together, and it is written as a tribute to Tova’s life.
In Hebrew, Tova is a girl’s name that means “beautiful” or “good.” The name perfectly fits the German shorthaired pointer that Joe Smiga and his wife, Linda, came to know and love.
Through the years of her life, Tova brought love, devotion, fun, and joy into Joe and Linda’s life, and then her life was cut short by a hidden disease. It was a disease that puzzled veterinarians and internal medicine veterinarians; a disease that destroyed her immune system, and yet no one seemed to even know it existed. The disease was called Cryptococcosis, and it robbed Tova of her life at the age of nine.
Author, Joe Smiga is on a mission to educate veterinarians and dog owners about Cryptococcosis. If caught early, it can be treated, but it comes on gradually, and the symptoms are not yet widely recognized by most veterinarians. This is something that Joe Smiga wants to change.
Author Smiga hopes that his book will serve as a wake-up call to all pet owners and veterinarians.
Uniquely original and told from not only Joe’s perspective, but from Tova’s as well, Tova is the life story of a remarkable bird dog, written as a labor of love. It is a must read for all pet owners.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Book Reading and Signings
There are two up-coming book signings for the Tova book.
On Saturday, June 12th, from 2:00 to 4:00 pm, Joe will be doing a reading and a signing of his book Tova. It will be held at Barnes & Noble on South Willow Street, Manchester NH.
He will also sign any of his Behind The Lies novels you may purchase from their shelves.
On Saturday, June 19th, Joe will be doing a book signing on his book “Tova.” The signing will be held from 3:00 to 5:00 pm at The Toadstool Bookshop in the Lorden Plaza at Milford NH.
On Saturday, June 12th, from 2:00 to 4:00 pm, Joe will be doing a reading and a signing of his book Tova. It will be held at Barnes & Noble on South Willow Street, Manchester NH.
He will also sign any of his Behind The Lies novels you may purchase from their shelves.
On Saturday, June 19th, Joe will be doing a book signing on his book “Tova.” The signing will be held from 3:00 to 5:00 pm at The Toadstool Bookshop in the Lorden Plaza at Milford NH.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
My second book-TOVA A Very Special Dog
Tova is the story of an extraordinary bird dog and her owner Joe Smiga. It is about their journey together, and it is written as a tribute to Tova’s life.
In Hebrew, Tova is a girl’s name that means “beautiful” or “good.” The name perfectly fits the German shorthaired pointer that Joe Smiga and his wife, Linda, came to know and love.
Through the years of her life, Tova brought love, devotion, fun, and joy into Joe and Linda’s life, and then her life was cut short by a hidden disease. It was a disease that puzzled veterinarians and internal medicine veterinarians; a disease that destroyed her immune system, and yet no one seemed to even know it existed. The disease was called Cryptococcosis, and it robbed Tova of her life at the age of nine.
Author, Joe Smiga is on a mission to educate veterinarians and dog owners about Cryptococcosis. If caught early, it can be treated, but it comes on gradually, and the symptoms are not yet widely recognized by most veterinarians. This is something that Joe Smiga wants to change.
Author Smiga hopes that his book will serve as a wake-up call to all pet owners and veterinarians.
Uniquely original and told from not only Joe’s perspective, but from Tova’s as well, Tova is the life story of a remarkable bird dog, written as a labor of love. It is a must read for all pet owners.
TOVA can be purchased through www.tovabook.com, www.bn.com, www.amazon.com, or your local bookstore.
Joe is available to speak on this subject. Contact him at: jpsmiga@myfairpoint.net.
In Hebrew, Tova is a girl’s name that means “beautiful” or “good.” The name perfectly fits the German shorthaired pointer that Joe Smiga and his wife, Linda, came to know and love.
Through the years of her life, Tova brought love, devotion, fun, and joy into Joe and Linda’s life, and then her life was cut short by a hidden disease. It was a disease that puzzled veterinarians and internal medicine veterinarians; a disease that destroyed her immune system, and yet no one seemed to even know it existed. The disease was called Cryptococcosis, and it robbed Tova of her life at the age of nine.
Author, Joe Smiga is on a mission to educate veterinarians and dog owners about Cryptococcosis. If caught early, it can be treated, but it comes on gradually, and the symptoms are not yet widely recognized by most veterinarians. This is something that Joe Smiga wants to change.
Author Smiga hopes that his book will serve as a wake-up call to all pet owners and veterinarians.
Uniquely original and told from not only Joe’s perspective, but from Tova’s as well, Tova is the life story of a remarkable bird dog, written as a labor of love. It is a must read for all pet owners.
TOVA can be purchased through www.tovabook.com, www.bn.com, www.amazon.com, or your local bookstore.
Joe is available to speak on this subject. Contact him at: jpsmiga@myfairpoint.net.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Spring Vacation
Last week we had the beautiful experience of spending time with family in California and seeing the preserve in Lancaster, California, which is full of their state flower, the orange poppy. On our way back home we visited Red Rock Canyon in Nevada. It is a gorgeous national park with a wonderful scenic view.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Two Special Notices
Today, I am pleased to say, that Behind The Lies, is posted on a blog with a wonderful review. You can read it by clicking Bruce's Mideast Soundbites in the Other Interesting Links column.
Second, the website for Tova,went online yesterday. You can view it by clicking on Tova in the Other Interesting Links column.
I hope you enjoy both of these new opportunities for my literary work to become known.
Second, the website for Tova,went online yesterday. You can view it by clicking on Tova in the Other Interesting Links column.
I hope you enjoy both of these new opportunities for my literary work to become known.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
TOVA: A VERY SPECIAL DOG
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Author Joe Smiga Releases a Unique Memoir About A Beloved Pet’s Life: Tova
A book that is touching and enlightening at the same time
Manchester, NH – April 19, 2010 – Author Joe Smiga, a pet lover and family man, unveils his newest publication Tova, a novel inspired by the life of his beloved dog of the same name. The book, as with his first novel Behind the Lies, is published and available through Xlibris.
Tova is a book written as a tribute to the life of Joe Smiga’s dog, Tova. The author, together with his wife, experienced, as with many other pet owners, the many joys that come with having a pet dog. Tova, through many years in the Smigas’ life, brought love, fun, and devotion. This, however, came to a sudden stop at the onset of a hidden disease.
Cryptococcosis is a disease that, at the time of Tova’s life, was virtually unknown in the world of veterinary medicine. The relative lack of information on this disease contributed to the frustration and sadness brought by the dog’s sudden demise.
The author wishes to educate people about the illness. This book is made available for pet owners and veterinarians who still do not know about the dreaded Cryptococcosis disease. For more information on this book, log on to www.Xlibris.com.
Author Joe Smiga Releases a Unique Memoir About A Beloved Pet’s Life: Tova
A book that is touching and enlightening at the same time
Manchester, NH – April 19, 2010 – Author Joe Smiga, a pet lover and family man, unveils his newest publication Tova, a novel inspired by the life of his beloved dog of the same name. The book, as with his first novel Behind the Lies, is published and available through Xlibris.
Tova is a book written as a tribute to the life of Joe Smiga’s dog, Tova. The author, together with his wife, experienced, as with many other pet owners, the many joys that come with having a pet dog. Tova, through many years in the Smigas’ life, brought love, fun, and devotion. This, however, came to a sudden stop at the onset of a hidden disease.
Cryptococcosis is a disease that, at the time of Tova’s life, was virtually unknown in the world of veterinary medicine. The relative lack of information on this disease contributed to the frustration and sadness brought by the dog’s sudden demise.
The author wishes to educate people about the illness. This book is made available for pet owners and veterinarians who still do not know about the dreaded Cryptococcosis disease. For more information on this book, log on to www.Xlibris.com.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Do you feel you might want to be a writer?
As I go around making presentations and doing book signings, I continually get told people would like to write and I'm asked, what does it take to become a writer?
My first response is everyone can write if they set their mind to it. You might have to take a basic writing course. Or do as I did, take an English composition course at one of your local colleges. It’s fun to be the grandpa of the class.
Second, write about what you love and what you know. What are you passionate about? These areas will set you in the right direction.
After reaching that level, make a commitment to write. Start off with a paragraph a day. You should begin to write at least five days a week. You will find your one paragraph level will increase to two or more. Then maybe even a full page or more.
Just keep at it and ideas will come to you all during the day when you’re not even writing. Jot them down if you feel you will forget them.
My first response is everyone can write if they set their mind to it. You might have to take a basic writing course. Or do as I did, take an English composition course at one of your local colleges. It’s fun to be the grandpa of the class.
Second, write about what you love and what you know. What are you passionate about? These areas will set you in the right direction.
After reaching that level, make a commitment to write. Start off with a paragraph a day. You should begin to write at least five days a week. You will find your one paragraph level will increase to two or more. Then maybe even a full page or more.
Just keep at it and ideas will come to you all during the day when you’re not even writing. Jot them down if you feel you will forget them.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Barnes & Noble on March 27th 2010
On Saturday, March 27Th from 3-5 pm, in Manchester, NH, I held a reading and a book signing for my first novel, "Behind The Lies." The first half hour was a reading of several parts of the book and answering questions from those attending.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
What's next to view
There are no further excerpts to be posted regarding the novel “Behind The Lies.” All one-hundred and six chapters have something on this blog. If you are more curious about the book go to www.joesmiga.com for more information.
The book is now available as an e-book, from the publisher at www.Xlibris.com. It will be available as e-books from Amazon and Barnes & Noble in four to six weeks.
I will do some posts about my experience as a first time author. What I may be able to pass on to others who are currently writing or hoping to create some literary works.
The book is now available as an e-book, from the publisher at www.Xlibris.com. It will be available as e-books from Amazon and Barnes & Noble in four to six weeks.
I will do some posts about my experience as a first time author. What I may be able to pass on to others who are currently writing or hoping to create some literary works.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Chapter One Hundred Five Epilogue
Allison McDonald makes the president aware when the thirty day period for the Russians to respond has expired. “There’s still been no comment from the Russian government,” she reports.
“Allison, I am going to wait fifteen more days. That should give them enough rope to hang themselves. In the meantime, I want to know everything your people can find out about that operation.”
“I’ve been gathering that information for weeks. I figured we’d need it.”
The president smiles. This lady’s so damn good at what she does. She’s always a couple steps ahead of me.
Fifteen days later, McDonald calls again. “What would you like us to do, sir?”
“You already know what to do. Just do it.”
“Yes, sir. With pleasure.”
“Allison, I am going to wait fifteen more days. That should give them enough rope to hang themselves. In the meantime, I want to know everything your people can find out about that operation.”
“I’ve been gathering that information for weeks. I figured we’d need it.”
The president smiles. This lady’s so damn good at what she does. She’s always a couple steps ahead of me.
Fifteen days later, McDonald calls again. “What would you like us to do, sir?”
“You already know what to do. Just do it.”
“Yes, sir. With pleasure.”
Monday, April 5, 2010
Chapter One Hundred Four At The United Nations
Mary O’Rourke, Secretary General of the United Nations, stands at the podium waiting for everyone to take their seats. The gathering begins to settle down. “I wish to thank you for taking the time for this special meeting of the General Assembly,” she says into her microphone, then waits her audience out for silence.
When the ambassadors have reached an acceptable level of attention, she continues, “Members of the General Assembly of the United Nations, to maintain effective communication regarding what truly transpired here in this, our host country, over the past few days, I have asked the President of the United States to address this body. Mr. President, you have the floor.”
As the president rises to speak, the Iranian ambassador stands and shouts, “You war monger, you have decimated my country, and now you are here to give us excuses.”
Mary O’Rourke rises from her seat. Controlling her temper, she calls a halt to the Iranian’s rant. “Mr. Ambassador, you may have the floor after the president is through,” she says through clenched teeth.
The ambassador sits back down, angrily jamming on his head set to hear the simultaneous translation of the president’s speech into Farsi. When the president reaches the podium, he repositions the microphone and looks around until he has everyone’s full attention. Once he feels he has, he begins, “Members of the General Assembly, it is my duty to inform this world body about everything that has transpired in the Middle East and in the Western Hemisphere over the last few months, and particularly over the last week.
When the ambassadors have reached an acceptable level of attention, she continues, “Members of the General Assembly of the United Nations, to maintain effective communication regarding what truly transpired here in this, our host country, over the past few days, I have asked the President of the United States to address this body. Mr. President, you have the floor.”
As the president rises to speak, the Iranian ambassador stands and shouts, “You war monger, you have decimated my country, and now you are here to give us excuses.”
Mary O’Rourke rises from her seat. Controlling her temper, she calls a halt to the Iranian’s rant. “Mr. Ambassador, you may have the floor after the president is through,” she says through clenched teeth.
The ambassador sits back down, angrily jamming on his head set to hear the simultaneous translation of the president’s speech into Farsi. When the president reaches the podium, he repositions the microphone and looks around until he has everyone’s full attention. Once he feels he has, he begins, “Members of the General Assembly, it is my duty to inform this world body about everything that has transpired in the Middle East and in the Western Hemisphere over the last few months, and particularly over the last week.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Chapter One Hundred Three Aftermath of Destruction
Upon notification that the radioactive fallout is relatively low, the governor of California boards a helicopter to survey the destruction.
Flying along the perimeter of the blast before going to its center, he thinks back to cities he read about in school that were bombed in World War II. Visually he estimates buildings were either totally destroyed or nearly so within a radius of ten miles from the center of the blast, due to the explosion itself or the shockwave that followed.
The National Guard is posted on the perimeter of the blast wearing protective clothing to minimize the effect of radioactivity. They will also be well prepared to handle crowd control, the president having promised the governor that Washington will rush ‘Silent Guardians,’ also known as ‘active denial systems,’ a joystick and computer screen innovation from Raytheon that employs wave technology to repel individuals without causing injury. That’s one thing I don’t want more of – injury, the governor thinks as he surveys the carnage. The people of California have suffered enough merely for the crime of being Americans.
One thing he is pleased about is that the president has agreed to back up his order that looters will be shot on sight. Every television station and radio station is broadcasting that information every half hour. If some jerk misses it, tough shit. After twenty minutes over Oakland and part of San Francisco, the governor directs the pilot to return to his base. He is sickened by all he has seen, and now faces the biggest effort of his political career.
Flying along the perimeter of the blast before going to its center, he thinks back to cities he read about in school that were bombed in World War II. Visually he estimates buildings were either totally destroyed or nearly so within a radius of ten miles from the center of the blast, due to the explosion itself or the shockwave that followed.
The National Guard is posted on the perimeter of the blast wearing protective clothing to minimize the effect of radioactivity. They will also be well prepared to handle crowd control, the president having promised the governor that Washington will rush ‘Silent Guardians,’ also known as ‘active denial systems,’ a joystick and computer screen innovation from Raytheon that employs wave technology to repel individuals without causing injury. That’s one thing I don’t want more of – injury, the governor thinks as he surveys the carnage. The people of California have suffered enough merely for the crime of being Americans.
One thing he is pleased about is that the president has agreed to back up his order that looters will be shot on sight. Every television station and radio station is broadcasting that information every half hour. If some jerk misses it, tough shit. After twenty minutes over Oakland and part of San Francisco, the governor directs the pilot to return to his base. He is sickened by all he has seen, and now faces the biggest effort of his political career.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Chapter One Hundred Two The President Addresses The Nation
The president is escorted to the Situation Room. The CIA director, the secretary of defense, the NSA director, the chairman of the joint chiefs as well as Admiral Smith and Generals James Bradley and Victor Sanford are on their feet, expecting him.
“Please, everyone take a seat.” He sits, but barely on the edge of his seat. “First of all, I want to thank each and every one of you. I know this has been a terrible ordeal. We didn’t come out of it one hundred percent, but it could have been so, so much worse. Secondly, I will be speaking to the American people tonight at 8:00.” Once he has this much off his mind, he sags visibly.
“Now we have to get back to work. I need as much information about the whole picture as you can give me. I know that we’re going to take flack on this because of what happened in Oakland. But I believe that the people will understand at some level that we did our best. Right now, that’s all I have to say. I’ll excuse myself to put my thoughts together for tonight.”
“Please, everyone take a seat.” He sits, but barely on the edge of his seat. “First of all, I want to thank each and every one of you. I know this has been a terrible ordeal. We didn’t come out of it one hundred percent, but it could have been so, so much worse. Secondly, I will be speaking to the American people tonight at 8:00.” Once he has this much off his mind, he sags visibly.
“Now we have to get back to work. I need as much information about the whole picture as you can give me. I know that we’re going to take flack on this because of what happened in Oakland. But I believe that the people will understand at some level that we did our best. Right now, that’s all I have to say. I’ll excuse myself to put my thoughts together for tonight.”
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Chapter One Hundred One Three Down-One To Go
On board Kilo 102, the first officer, who understands and speaks passable English, is trying to make out a jumble of overlapping messages. He wants to hear whether their missile launch was a success or failure. The amount of radio traffic seems to be substantial, the tone of communications animated. He’s having a hard time making sense of it all.
Then he hears, loud and clear, that a nuclear-armed cruise missile landed in the middle of Oakland, California. He stops. That cannot be. He listens again for further transmission. The first officer starts to radio the captain but finds himself speechless. I can’t have heard correctly. Nuclear weapons? Instead, slowly, mechanically, he crosses from the radio room to the control room, seeking out the captain.
“Our launch was successful, Captain,” he reports, his voice hollow. He pauses.
The captain looks up at him with nervous irritation. “Is there something else to report, number one?”
“Did – anyone tell you that the missile we fired was carrying a nuclear warhead, sir?”
“What are you saying? There was nothing in my orders about nuclear warheads. We were supposed to be firing conventional weapons. Certainly we would have been told…”
Then he hears, loud and clear, that a nuclear-armed cruise missile landed in the middle of Oakland, California. He stops. That cannot be. He listens again for further transmission. The first officer starts to radio the captain but finds himself speechless. I can’t have heard correctly. Nuclear weapons? Instead, slowly, mechanically, he crosses from the radio room to the control room, seeking out the captain.
“Our launch was successful, Captain,” he reports, his voice hollow. He pauses.
The captain looks up at him with nervous irritation. “Is there something else to report, number one?”
“Did – anyone tell you that the missile we fired was carrying a nuclear warhead, sir?”
“What are you saying? There was nothing in my orders about nuclear warheads. We were supposed to be firing conventional weapons. Certainly we would have been told…”
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Chapter One Hundred Missile Mishap
Action on the east coast has not met with any weather problems. The west coast is another story. Above the surface, heavy winds and drenching rains cover the entire northwest, from Canada all the way south to central California.
Naval vessels trying to maintain the vigilant watch they’ve been assigned are bouncing about like corks in a pond. Aircraft flying over the given parameters have their own set of problems.
The USS Hawkeye DDG 94 is maintaining her station on the most northern point of the picket line. Her radar picks up the launching of a cruise missile from Kilo 102.
Captain Jesse Meyers runs from the bridge down to the combat information center.
“Missile launch identified,” he says, keeping his voice as controlled as possible, under the circumstances. “Get fire control ready to create a solution.”
“Aye, sir,” responds the watch officer.
“Fire Control, CIC. We have a missile launched from below the surface at 325 degrees, range fifty miles.”
Fire control officers and sailors work feverishly to create a firing solution on the radar blip they have just identified as a cruise missile heading inbound toward San Francisco.
As the turret for the Sparrow missiles begins to turn, a complete systems failure occurs. The control officer tries three more times. Each time, the turret fails to respond.
“Captain, we have a systems failure on the Sparrow launcher,” yells the Fire Control officer from the other end of the CIC.
“What do you mean, systems failure?”
“Everything just shut down, sir. We don’t know why yet. Someone else better back us up for this shot.”
“There’s an emergency restart on that system. Have you tried that?”
“Yes sir. Three times.”
“I want a report from your crew on my desk as soon as you find the problem.”
The captain grabs a phone which allows him to communicate via satellite with Pacific Command directly.
The phone rings three times, which feels like a lifetime to the frustrated captain. Finally the secretary for Vice-Admiral Kevin O’Rourke answers it.
“This is an emergency. I need the admiral, right now. This is Captain Jesse Meyers of the USS Hawkeye.”
“Yes, sir.”
Almost immediately, the admiral is on the phone. “Captain, this is Admiral O’Rourke.”
“Sir, we’ve detected a missile launch, heading for San Francisco. We are the northernmost vessel of our group and our Sparrow system has failed to operate. Notify land-based command to use their surface-launched ground-to-air missiles to take this thing out.”
“Your current coordinates for the missile, Captain?”
The captain has the watch officer give him the coordinates, which he relays quickly and clearly to the admiral.
“Captain, I want a report from you on why that Sparrow system failed to function.”
“Yes, sir. I do too. You’ll have it, as soon as I do.”
The captain and the admiral hurriedly hang up.
Naval vessels trying to maintain the vigilant watch they’ve been assigned are bouncing about like corks in a pond. Aircraft flying over the given parameters have their own set of problems.
The USS Hawkeye DDG 94 is maintaining her station on the most northern point of the picket line. Her radar picks up the launching of a cruise missile from Kilo 102.
Captain Jesse Meyers runs from the bridge down to the combat information center.
“Missile launch identified,” he says, keeping his voice as controlled as possible, under the circumstances. “Get fire control ready to create a solution.”
“Aye, sir,” responds the watch officer.
“Fire Control, CIC. We have a missile launched from below the surface at 325 degrees, range fifty miles.”
Fire control officers and sailors work feverishly to create a firing solution on the radar blip they have just identified as a cruise missile heading inbound toward San Francisco.
As the turret for the Sparrow missiles begins to turn, a complete systems failure occurs. The control officer tries three more times. Each time, the turret fails to respond.
“Captain, we have a systems failure on the Sparrow launcher,” yells the Fire Control officer from the other end of the CIC.
“What do you mean, systems failure?”
“Everything just shut down, sir. We don’t know why yet. Someone else better back us up for this shot.”
“There’s an emergency restart on that system. Have you tried that?”
“Yes sir. Three times.”
“I want a report from your crew on my desk as soon as you find the problem.”
The captain grabs a phone which allows him to communicate via satellite with Pacific Command directly.
The phone rings three times, which feels like a lifetime to the frustrated captain. Finally the secretary for Vice-Admiral Kevin O’Rourke answers it.
“This is an emergency. I need the admiral, right now. This is Captain Jesse Meyers of the USS Hawkeye.”
“Yes, sir.”
Almost immediately, the admiral is on the phone. “Captain, this is Admiral O’Rourke.”
“Sir, we’ve detected a missile launch, heading for San Francisco. We are the northernmost vessel of our group and our Sparrow system has failed to operate. Notify land-based command to use their surface-launched ground-to-air missiles to take this thing out.”
“Your current coordinates for the missile, Captain?”
The captain has the watch officer give him the coordinates, which he relays quickly and clearly to the admiral.
“Captain, I want a report from you on why that Sparrow system failed to function.”
“Yes, sir. I do too. You’ll have it, as soon as I do.”
The captain and the admiral hurriedly hang up.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Chapter Ninety-Nine Missles Airborne
Everyone stands as, once again, the president enters the Situation Room. President Egan is in no mood for formalities. “Goddammit, sit down, everybody. Admiral, Dean, what have we got?”
Dean Hargrove replies, “We’ve got missiles fired and above the surface inbound on Washington, New York, and San Francisco.”
“What about L.A.?”
“Our vessels reported a major explosion below the surface approximately where we suspected the Kilo to be. We’re assuming some sort of internal explosion.”
The president hesitates before asking the obvious question. “What are our chances of taking those missiles down?”
Before anyone can answer, a Secret Service detail headed by DeWayne Richards comes into the Situation Room. “Sir, my orders are to remove you immediately to a safe location.”
“I understand. Where’s the first lady?”
“Sir, she’s aboard Marine Two and on her way to the same location.”
“Gentlemen, I have no choice but to burden you with finishing this for me and for everyone else out there. God be with us all. Let’s go, DeWayne.”
The words of his chairman of the joint chiefs echo in Egan’s mind as he hurriedly leaves the room. “We will, sir. Be safe.”
Dean Hargrove replies, “We’ve got missiles fired and above the surface inbound on Washington, New York, and San Francisco.”
“What about L.A.?”
“Our vessels reported a major explosion below the surface approximately where we suspected the Kilo to be. We’re assuming some sort of internal explosion.”
The president hesitates before asking the obvious question. “What are our chances of taking those missiles down?”
Before anyone can answer, a Secret Service detail headed by DeWayne Richards comes into the Situation Room. “Sir, my orders are to remove you immediately to a safe location.”
“I understand. Where’s the first lady?”
“Sir, she’s aboard Marine Two and on her way to the same location.”
“Gentlemen, I have no choice but to burden you with finishing this for me and for everyone else out there. God be with us all. Let’s go, DeWayne.”
The words of his chairman of the joint chiefs echo in Egan’s mind as he hurriedly leaves the room. “We will, sir. Be safe.”
Friday, March 12, 2010
Chapter Ninety-Eight Kilos Arrive
It is the fourth day since the beginning of the uprisings on Israel’s borders. The communiqué sent from Iran to the Kilos instructed them to fire their missiles at 2400 hours GMT on the fourth day from a distance of three hundred kilometers from their targets. They were told to only fire one missile, provided the launch was successful. Their instructions explicitly told them not to assess the missile in flight or its impact, just to move out of the area immediately, and of course, they are not to attempt communications until they are two thousand miles from the enemy’s shores. They are to protect the Kilos at all costs. None of the captains know their missiles carry nuclear warheads.
Admiral Smith is conferring with Vice-Admiral Dan Peterson, Commander of the Atlantic Fleet, and Vice-Admiral Kevin O’Rourke, Commander of the Pacific Fleet, from the Situation Room.
Looking at each other on screens providing satellite visuals, Admiral Smith says, “Admirals, what do you know at this point about the locations of the Kilos?”
Admiral Smith is conferring with Vice-Admiral Dan Peterson, Commander of the Atlantic Fleet, and Vice-Admiral Kevin O’Rourke, Commander of the Pacific Fleet, from the Situation Room.
Looking at each other on screens providing satellite visuals, Admiral Smith says, “Admirals, what do you know at this point about the locations of the Kilos?”
Monday, March 8, 2010
Chapter Ninety-Seven Mission Accomplished
Following the Air Force bombardment, the NSA’s satellites seek to assess the damages caused by American missiles and bombers.
Each pass of the three satellites covering Iran shows Bandar Abbas’s naval base in a complete state of havoc. The missiles fired into the base have caused tremendous damage to the naval base itself but limited damage to nearby areas with civilian populations. Each of the known sites of enriching uranium or reprocessing plutonium has suffered catastrophic damage. Planes on the runways of Iranian air bases have been reduced to smoldering wrecks. The air bases themselves will be unusable for a long time to come. Training camps that were targeted are aflame.
John Walker personally views the images of the results from bombing the presidential offices and the Guardian Council building. Each building is totally destroyed. Earlier photos of the Guardian Council building indicate lights on at the very top floor. Since the Council members regularly met there, it is assumed they were there during the bombing run.
John Walker calls the president in the Situation Room. “Mr. Pres’dent, accordin’ to what we‘re seein’ over heah, I’d say we’ve achieved our objective. The devastation appears to be significant.”
“Thank you, John,” says the president, allowing himself to feel a measure of relief. “Now all we have to do is take out those Kilos.”
Each pass of the three satellites covering Iran shows Bandar Abbas’s naval base in a complete state of havoc. The missiles fired into the base have caused tremendous damage to the naval base itself but limited damage to nearby areas with civilian populations. Each of the known sites of enriching uranium or reprocessing plutonium has suffered catastrophic damage. Planes on the runways of Iranian air bases have been reduced to smoldering wrecks. The air bases themselves will be unusable for a long time to come. Training camps that were targeted are aflame.
John Walker personally views the images of the results from bombing the presidential offices and the Guardian Council building. Each building is totally destroyed. Earlier photos of the Guardian Council building indicate lights on at the very top floor. Since the Council members regularly met there, it is assumed they were there during the bombing run.
John Walker calls the president in the Situation Room. “Mr. Pres’dent, accordin’ to what we‘re seein’ over heah, I’d say we’ve achieved our objective. The devastation appears to be significant.”
“Thank you, John,” says the president, allowing himself to feel a measure of relief. “Now all we have to do is take out those Kilos.”
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Chapter Ninety-Six Iran Ablaze
Khasanjani stayed up late enough to know that the Shahab-3 missiles that his forces had fired at Israel have been intercepted by their Arrow II anti-missile system. Damn Jews, their technology always seems to be two steps ahead of us. Yet, he somehow doubts this to be a Jewish counter-attack, not this quickly. His ears refuse to make sense of what he’s hearing.
Fully dressed, he stumbles out of his bedroom and runs right into his wife, who is trying desperately to keep the children quiet and assured that they are safe. “That’s right. Listen to your mother,” their father says, then pushes right past her.
“Doesn’t anyone know what the hell is going on here?” he yells to the only guard in sight. “Get me my driver. I have to get to my office and find out what’s happening.”
Likewise, on the opposite side of the city, the Ayatollah Ahmajid is running like a madman down the stairs of his home, taking two at a time, his head bare – as is his scalp. He hears the sirens, but cannot imagine what’s happening. Israel cannot reach us with their planes and still be able to return safely home from this great a distance. This must be something else, but what?
Ahmajid receives Khasanjani’s third attempt to reach him by phone. “Fadil, what’s happening? The Jews cannot be reacting this quickly to our firing two rockets at them,” Khasanjani shouts into the phone over the noise in the streets. “They would have to have a plan in place. And even if they were planning a strike, it would take time to put into action.”
“I agree, Mahmoud. Calm down. I don’t know anything for sure yet. Maybe this is a reaction to something else altogether. I’m going to try and find out. Call an emergency meeting of the council. I will see what I can learn. Tell them we’ll convene in thirty minutes.”
The Ayatollah runs to the rooftop of his home, and looks about him in all directions. Practically deafened by the sound of ongoing explosions, he realizes that the explosions and fire are all coming from the west. Then it hits him. It is coming from one of our enrichment plants. Has there been a catastrophe at the plant? Is that what we are dealing with?
Fully dressed, he stumbles out of his bedroom and runs right into his wife, who is trying desperately to keep the children quiet and assured that they are safe. “That’s right. Listen to your mother,” their father says, then pushes right past her.
“Doesn’t anyone know what the hell is going on here?” he yells to the only guard in sight. “Get me my driver. I have to get to my office and find out what’s happening.”
Likewise, on the opposite side of the city, the Ayatollah Ahmajid is running like a madman down the stairs of his home, taking two at a time, his head bare – as is his scalp. He hears the sirens, but cannot imagine what’s happening. Israel cannot reach us with their planes and still be able to return safely home from this great a distance. This must be something else, but what?
Ahmajid receives Khasanjani’s third attempt to reach him by phone. “Fadil, what’s happening? The Jews cannot be reacting this quickly to our firing two rockets at them,” Khasanjani shouts into the phone over the noise in the streets. “They would have to have a plan in place. And even if they were planning a strike, it would take time to put into action.”
“I agree, Mahmoud. Calm down. I don’t know anything for sure yet. Maybe this is a reaction to something else altogether. I’m going to try and find out. Call an emergency meeting of the council. I will see what I can learn. Tell them we’ll convene in thirty minutes.”
The Ayatollah runs to the rooftop of his home, and looks about him in all directions. Practically deafened by the sound of ongoing explosions, he realizes that the explosions and fire are all coming from the west. Then it hits him. It is coming from one of our enrichment plants. Has there been a catastrophe at the plant? Is that what we are dealing with?
Monday, March 1, 2010
Chapter Ninety-Five Third Night of the Uprisings
President Egan has the five members of the Senate Armed Services Committee come to the Oval Office. Senators Daniel McGraw from Montana, Theresa Redding from Texas, Douglas Shaffer from Kansas, Timothy Dasher from New York and Mark Lozano from California appear at the appointed hour of noon.
“Senators I hate to impose on your lunchtime. However, it’s vital that we speak at this very moment.”
“Why, may I ask?” Theresa Redding seems more than a bit put out. The president chooses to ignore her confrontational tone.
“For months now, the United States has been fortunate enough to be able to read all communications coming out of and within Iran.” The president pauses for effect.
Mark Lozano asks, “How were we able to do that? Were we able to break their codes?”
Everyone suddenly seems to sense where this meeting is going. Doug Shaffer glares at the president and states, “You mean to tell us that you had first-hand knowledge of that country’s possible intentions of war and you never told us?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you now. What we learned was so vital that we couldn’t afford any leaks whatsoever, anything which might cause the Iranians to alter their code.”
“Mr. President, are you telling us you don’t trust this committee?” Tim Dasher says point-blank in frustration.
“No, Tim, that’s not at all what I’m saying. However, I am saying that telling you might have allowed a leak.”
“Senators I hate to impose on your lunchtime. However, it’s vital that we speak at this very moment.”
“Why, may I ask?” Theresa Redding seems more than a bit put out. The president chooses to ignore her confrontational tone.
“For months now, the United States has been fortunate enough to be able to read all communications coming out of and within Iran.” The president pauses for effect.
Mark Lozano asks, “How were we able to do that? Were we able to break their codes?”
Everyone suddenly seems to sense where this meeting is going. Doug Shaffer glares at the president and states, “You mean to tell us that you had first-hand knowledge of that country’s possible intentions of war and you never told us?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you now. What we learned was so vital that we couldn’t afford any leaks whatsoever, anything which might cause the Iranians to alter their code.”
“Mr. President, are you telling us you don’t trust this committee?” Tim Dasher says point-blank in frustration.
“No, Tim, that’s not at all what I’m saying. However, I am saying that telling you might have allowed a leak.”
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Chapter Ninety-Four Dealing with the Vice President
President Egan sighs, then picks up his phone and asks Janet to have the chief of staff come to his office.
From the moment she walks through the door, Maria Sterling senses that something is not quite right. “Have a seat, Maria,” the president says gravely. “I need to discuss some things with you before I go down to the Situation Room.”
“Do you want me to go with you after we speak?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Mr. President, may I speak freely?”
“Go ahead. I intend to.”
This is beginning to sound worse every time he opens his mouth, Sterling realizes.
“Maria, I selected you as my chief of staff because I saw in you a dynamic woman with the ability to get things done. Where did I go wrong?”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“I’m not in the mood for pussy-footing around. I want to know why you leaked information that ended up in two press releases to Scott Brubaker.”
“Who said I leaked something to the Post?”
“Scott Brubaker did.” The president stares intently at Sterling. “I want to know why you did what you did?”
Oh my God, the asshole couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Sterling’s response is nothing short of confrontational. “You want the contrite version or what I really feel?”
From the moment she walks through the door, Maria Sterling senses that something is not quite right. “Have a seat, Maria,” the president says gravely. “I need to discuss some things with you before I go down to the Situation Room.”
“Do you want me to go with you after we speak?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Mr. President, may I speak freely?”
“Go ahead. I intend to.”
This is beginning to sound worse every time he opens his mouth, Sterling realizes.
“Maria, I selected you as my chief of staff because I saw in you a dynamic woman with the ability to get things done. Where did I go wrong?”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“I’m not in the mood for pussy-footing around. I want to know why you leaked information that ended up in two press releases to Scott Brubaker.”
“Who said I leaked something to the Post?”
“Scott Brubaker did.” The president stares intently at Sterling. “I want to know why you did what you did?”
Oh my God, the asshole couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Sterling’s response is nothing short of confrontational. “You want the contrite version or what I really feel?”
Monday, February 22, 2010
Chapter Ninety-Three Same Day in D. C.
“What are you implying, sir?” Brubaker’s face appears genuinely puzzled.
“I’m not implying anything. I asked you a question.”
“Why would I be consorting with agents of our enemies?”
“Interesting you chose the word ‘agent,’ Scott. What do you know about your friend and occasional lover Melanie Jacobs?”
Brubaker’s reaction to this question is much as the president expected: a pro, his expression is immobile, his face as responsive as if it had been carved from granite.
He doesn’t know how to respond, the president thinks. “Take your time Scott, because it better be good. You only get one shot at this.”
“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Mr. President. We’re good friends and, yes, sometimes lovers when she’s in town. Last I heard that isn’t a crime.”
“You’re right. It isn’t – unless she happens to be an agent of a foreign nation.”
“What? What are you talking about?’
“Well, Scott, it appears that your friend, or lover, or whatever you choose to call her, is an Iranian agent. We have retrieved materials that implicate you as the source of information which she has passed on to her government.”
“This is bullshit,” Brubaker blurts out. “I don’t buy any of this.”
“And I’m not selling, Scott – I’m telling. Now, I really don’t care who you’ve screwed. I just want to know who your sources are that caused Ms. Jacobs to take such an interest in you. If you continue on playing the role of the knight in shining armor for your sources, then I have no other choice but to implicate you in crimes against the United States. Am I making myself clear, Scott?”
The Post reporter who had so confidently walked through the Oval Office door now finds himself facing charges of treason. Brubaker’s mind springs into action. Whoa. Why should I protect the chief of staff and the vice president? They’re the traitors, not me. I really don’t have much of a choice here.
“I’m not implying anything. I asked you a question.”
“Why would I be consorting with agents of our enemies?”
“Interesting you chose the word ‘agent,’ Scott. What do you know about your friend and occasional lover Melanie Jacobs?”
Brubaker’s reaction to this question is much as the president expected: a pro, his expression is immobile, his face as responsive as if it had been carved from granite.
He doesn’t know how to respond, the president thinks. “Take your time Scott, because it better be good. You only get one shot at this.”
“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Mr. President. We’re good friends and, yes, sometimes lovers when she’s in town. Last I heard that isn’t a crime.”
“You’re right. It isn’t – unless she happens to be an agent of a foreign nation.”
“What? What are you talking about?’
“Well, Scott, it appears that your friend, or lover, or whatever you choose to call her, is an Iranian agent. We have retrieved materials that implicate you as the source of information which she has passed on to her government.”
“This is bullshit,” Brubaker blurts out. “I don’t buy any of this.”
“And I’m not selling, Scott – I’m telling. Now, I really don’t care who you’ve screwed. I just want to know who your sources are that caused Ms. Jacobs to take such an interest in you. If you continue on playing the role of the knight in shining armor for your sources, then I have no other choice but to implicate you in crimes against the United States. Am I making myself clear, Scott?”
The Post reporter who had so confidently walked through the Oval Office door now finds himself facing charges of treason. Brubaker’s mind springs into action. Whoa. Why should I protect the chief of staff and the vice president? They’re the traitors, not me. I really don’t have much of a choice here.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Chapter Ninety-Two End of October
Rear Admiral Joseph DeMello, commander of the U.S. Sixth Fleet, signs for the two messages the radioman messenger hands him. He reads first the message sent him by Fleet Admiral Robert Smith. After reviewing the two top secret messages, he asks his staff, “What’s the status of the Kilo we’ve been dogging?”
“The Kilo’s on a slow run continuing towards Israel,” the operations officer replies.
“We’ve just received orders that the U.S. has moved to Condition Red. We are at war with the nation of Iran. Each military group will be receiving its orders. Our orders are to take out the Kilo. I want to do this without a great deal of fanfare. We don’t need to advertise that we have just gone to war. Do we have any boomers following the Kilo?”
“Sir, we have two LA-class boomers ahead of the Kilo at ten thousand yards,” the operations officer speaks up again. “We’ve been anticipating orders of this nature.”
“Instruct them to plot courses to take him out,” the fleet commander says with grim determination. “I want him totaled.”
“What about survivors, sir?”
“If you heard me correctly, you know there will be no survivors.”
“Yes, sir,” the operations officer said.
“The Kilo’s on a slow run continuing towards Israel,” the operations officer replies.
“We’ve just received orders that the U.S. has moved to Condition Red. We are at war with the nation of Iran. Each military group will be receiving its orders. Our orders are to take out the Kilo. I want to do this without a great deal of fanfare. We don’t need to advertise that we have just gone to war. Do we have any boomers following the Kilo?”
“Sir, we have two LA-class boomers ahead of the Kilo at ten thousand yards,” the operations officer speaks up again. “We’ve been anticipating orders of this nature.”
“Instruct them to plot courses to take him out,” the fleet commander says with grim determination. “I want him totaled.”
“What about survivors, sir?”
“If you heard me correctly, you know there will be no survivors.”
“Yes, sir,” the operations officer said.
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