Andy Young: Making a case for trophies

By Andy Young

I got the first of what I assumed would be many athletic trophies when I was a member of the championship baseball team in my hometown’s Little League.

Never mind that I rarely played; back then 9-year-olds were only there to chase foul balls, coach first base, and go through the stands passing the hat so the coaches could give each kid 15 cents after the game to go get something from the snack bar.

Recently I learned that the word “trophy” originated from the Greek “tropaion,” which referred to captives, weapons, property, or enemy body parts that were collected in war.

That information surprised me, since like most people I had previously assumed the word had derived from some Latin term meaning “dust collector.” Fortunately, none of my subsequent trophy-worthy honors ever involved the forcible removal of anyone else’s body parts.

I knew in my soul that someday I’d need a huge trophy room to properly display all the individual awards I’d win for my many astounding baseball and basketball exploits. After all, those multiple Major League Baseball and National Basketball Association Most Valuable Player awards I’d earn during my dual-sport career would need proper displaying.

And besides that, I’d likely need more space in the future, since my trophy wife (and later our trophy kids) would undoubtedly be awash in athletic accolades as well.

There are more different kinds of trophies than there are ice cream flavors. They can look like a knight standing atop a reel of film (the Oscar), an old record player (the Grammy), or a football player (the Heisman Trophy).

There are trophies that look like cars, dogs, pianos, horses, typewriters, microphones, elephants, donkeys, fish, ballet slippers, Rubik’s Cubes, and pinking shears.

Still others are shaped like singers, mechanics, doctors, accountants, police officers, dancers, fishermen, chefs, librarians and hunters. Trophies are regularly handed out to top performers and coaches in baseball, softball, football, basketball, hockey, soccer, lacrosse, volleyball, swimming, tennis, wrestling, pickleball, rowing, gymnastics, running, jumping, throwing, pole vaulting, and skiing.

There are also trophies for non-athletes like bowlers, race car drivers, and golfers.

Unfortunately, it’s now officially spring-cleaning season, and who wants to waste time relocating clutter, vacuuming up dirt, washing windows, de-cobwebbing the basement, mopping the kitchen floor until it returns to whatever its original color was….or dusting off old trophies?

After a long winter, the last thing(s) I want to waste time on involve cleaning the garage, freshening up the cellar, or disinfecting bathrooms.

That’s why I always start my seasonal home-cleansing ritual small, by sanitizing my dream-come-true, appropriately sized trophy room.

The most recent addition to my trophy collection came in 1984, when a softball team I was on took home the league championship.

Actually, I had to leave at mid-season, since I had taken a job 4,000 miles away.

I felt guilty about that, since at the time it was obvious to all concerned it was my batting, fielding, and leadership skills which had led us to victory in seven of our first 10 contests. Thankfully though, the team somehow won 23 of their 24 games after my departure.

The upside to having a modest number of trophies: my long-anticipated display case isn’t just a dual-purpose one; it’s portable! And the only times I have to temporarily move my two treasured statuettes are when I need to reheat soup, melt butter rapidly, or make a quick bag of popcorn.

Finally, I keep an old pie plate atop my portable miniature trophy room. It’s a convenient place to stash all the hate mail I get from bowlers, race car drivers, and golfers. <

Insight: Barking up the right tree II

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

When our dog Fancy arrived in our household, my wife and I had no clues about how to coax proper behavior from a puppy. Our previous dog had been older when we adopted her and required little training. However, this new puppy was a boundless bundle of energy, and every experience was new to her.

Ed Pierce and Fancy upon completion of
her Basic Obedience Training class in 2017.
COURTESY PHOTO

While working for the newspaper, I had met a well-respected dog trainer who offered weekly lessons in a large garage adjacent to her home that had been converted into a training facility and kennel. I asked the trainer, Carolyn, if we could bring Fancy for Basic Obedience Training on Saturday mornings near our home in New Hampshire and she agreed.

For the next four months, we spent an hour every Saturday morning at Carolyn’s studio practicing basic commands and taming an incorrigible and spirited little creature with a mind of her own.

We learned how to sit and stay, lay down and come when called. We learned how to walk properly on a leash, how to heel, and basic doggie manners when encountering other dogs nearby.

Carolyn was also a breeder of Dobermans, a type of large dog which must have seemed intimidating to Fancy when she saw them there during her training.

At first, I wasn’t sure any of this was going to work. Fancy was intensely curious and somewhat anxious. She didn’t like being put on a leash and balked the first few times that Carolyn tried to teach her something new.

She was put into a crate in the mornings when we went to work, and we hired a staff member from the school where my wife worked to come in several times a day and let her outside for a while.

The crate was kept in the dining room and somehow it didn’t take Fancy very long to figure out if she leaned hard enough on a side of the crate, she could get it to move on our wood floor. That’s how I came to regret hanging a nice jacket over the back of a dining room chair one day only to come home from work and find the jacket torn to pieces inside the dog crate by Fancy.

She also severely tattered several of the sofa cushions and anything close by she could find to chew on. My wife tried recovering those shredded cushions, but they were too far gone for salvaging. When we eventually placed the sofa by the road hoping some impoverished college student would see it and haul it back to their apartment, we were mistaken. It sat there for weeks with its ratholes, and I ultimately had to pay a junk-hauling service to relocate it to the dump.

The puppy also had atrocious table manners. During dinner, if you weren’t careful, she would jump and snatch items off your plate in a fraction of a second. I can’t begin to tell you how disappointing it is to sit down at the supper table to a full plate of food only to have a puppy leap and in one swoop grab a Sloppy Joe sandwich and swallow it whole. It didn’t matter what it was, it could be burgers, grilled cheese sandwiches, or slices of toast, anything you fixed to eat was fair game for Fancy.

In discussing this bad behavior with Carolyn, she suggested either putting Fancy in a crate in another room during dinner or placing her on a leash and keeping my foot on the leash to prevent her from leaping up and grabbing food off the dinner table while we were eating. We tried the crate option first but abandoned it because we couldn’t stand the crying, loud whining, and barking coming from Fancy while we were eating. The leash idea worked better, but have you ever tried to eat a meal one-handed while holding a dog leash in the other hand?

Over time, Fancy came to love going to Caroline’s for training on Saturday mornings. She did learn how to sit, stay, heel, lie down and come and she even was able to exhibit those tasks on cue and off-leash.

She scored 100 percent on her Basic Obedience Test and graduated from Carolyn’s Canine College with a certificate and a trophy. Because that training was successful, we continued visiting with Carolyn and Fancy eventually completed Good Neighbor Training and Therapy Dog Training with her. She was able to sit quietly when surrounded by a dozen other larger dogs and not growl during her final Therapy Dog test.

More than anything, the training was beneficial for Fancy in learning to control her excitement and teaching her the correct way to behave and how to interact with people and other animals.

Fancy is now 8 and has settled down quite a bit. She loves going for walks in our neighborhood and is great with children and is very gentle. On occasion though, every now and then she feels compelled to leap and grab a burger off our dinner plate, so we’ve adapted to eating in a guarded manner and not to walk away from the table, even if only for a minute, leaving our plates unguarded. <

Insight: Strange and unusual cat behavior

Gracie the cat lived to be the age of 16 and loved to catch
water drips from the bathtub faucet. PHOTO BY ED PIERCE

By Ed Pierce Managing Editor

I confess that I don’t know very much about cats or cat behavior but having had several cats as pets through the years, I do know strange and unusual animal behavior when I see it.

For the most part, I’m a dog person and although the cats I’ve been associated with have been great, they have at times exhibited odd and quirky habits that can only be described as aberrant.

The first cat our family took in was when I was in high school. A young woman from our neighborhood knocked on our door carrying a box of Siamese kittens and asked if we would like one. Up until that point my mother and father were opposed to getting a cat because my brother had hay fever, and they thought the car hair would aggravate that.

But both my brother and I were able to talk them into taking in this adorable kitten. He quickly became a favorite and got along well with our dog. So much so, he loved to gulp down the dog’s food when the dog wasn’t around.

As the kitten grew, so did his quirky habits. He loved to fall asleep on top of the sofa and from that vantage point, he was able to look out the window and watch the birds flying by. But it also spelled trouble for anyone choosing to sit on the sofa as he zealously defended his territory by grabbing and biting anyone’s head who dared to sit near him. 

He also took great delight in seeing how far he could fling cat litter away from his cat box. Flying pieces of cat litter were a sight to behold and reminiscent of Jack Nicklaus hitting out of a sand trap on the 16th hole whenever he visited his cat box.

When I was in the U.S. Air Force stationed in Frankfurt, Germany, we took in a small kitten we called Benson. He was a grey tiger-striped little fellow who was curious about everything. For some reason, he loved to eat paper and was known to climb and to claw furniture to his own amusement.

I quickly learned to stash my important military papers in a safe location upon arriving home as he once ate three copies of my temporary duty orders that I left inadvertently on our kitchen table.

He also had another unusual habit that drove us crazy.

My wife and I had purchased a brand-new plaid sofa and love seat for our apartment and within six months, the armrests of both pieces of furniture were in shambles.

Even though we provided him with a scratching post set up in another room, this cat would slowly torture us by jumping up on the armrest, yawning, and then vigorously strapping his claws as much as he could get away with before we chased him away from doing that. It became a ritual for him, and we tried everything to prevent him from doing it, including covering the armrests with vinyl. It made no difference to Benson as he’d knock the vinyl off and soon the armrest fabric was shredded and reduced to stuffing.

He wouldn’t bother any other furniture in our apartment, just the armrests of the sofa and love seat.

Another odd trait of Benson was he would climb up on my chest while I was sleeping and whack me in the nose on weekends until I got up and fed him. It never happened during the week, just on weekends. It was like he had some sort of internal clock that mandated this strange behavior every Saturday and Sunday morning.

The other cat I’ve had was a tiger-striped beauty named Gracie. She was 2 when I rescued her, and she soon had to have surgery to rebuild her bladder after suffering from bladder stones. The veterinarian prescribed pills to give her after her surgery and said we should wrap her in a towel to try to give them to her.

That proved to be near-impossible, and she kicked and fought being given a pill each time she was supposed to have one. It was like going to war using hand-to-hand combat.

Gracie was frightened by dogs, and she chose to stay upstairs in our townhouse when our dog was downstairs. Once when we were at work, the dog hopped over a baby gate separating the upstairs from the downstairs and chased Gracie under our bed. The dog became stuck and when I got home, Gracie was sitting on top of our dresser and all I could see was the dog’s tail wagging underneath our bed.

It didn’t take long for us to catch on to Gracie’s most unusual habit. She’d wait in the bathroom until we took a shower and then sit under the faucet and try to catch the water drips in her mouth. This game went on for years and continued as we moved from the townhouse to seven years in one home, a move from Florida to New Hampshire, and then from a home in New Hampshire to another in Maine.

Cats are gorgeous creatures and make fine pets, but I much prefer dogs. <

Insight: Paying the price for the infamous ‘Raisin Toast Incident’

By Ed Pierce

Managing Editor

Anyone who would pay $487 for a single slice of raisin toast would certainly have to be out of their mind, right? But it’s exactly how much a slice of bread imbedded with raisins cost me last month.

I normally don’t purchase raisin bread at the grocery store very often, but my wife asked me to bring home a loaf when I did my normal weekly shopping a few weeks before Christmas. We each enjoyed several pieces of raisin toast during breakfast in the days leading up to what I now call the infamous “Raisin Toast Incident.”

On a typical Wednesday morning, I got up, fixed myself some coffee and then woke my wife up so she could eat breakfast and start getting ready for work. Our 4-year-old lab-mix dog, Fancy, was wide awake and waited patiently for me to take her for a walk.

After scrolling through emails on our computers, my wife decided it was time for her to shower as she continued to prepare for work. Having taken the dog for her walk, I thought I’d fix myself some breakfast while my wife was in the shower.

I settled on a bowl of Cheerios, some V-8 juice and a single slice of raisin toast. Fancy sat in the kitchen near me while the toaster worked its magic and I retrieved a cereal bowl and poured the milk for my Cheerios. I put a little butter on the toast, gathered my breakfast on my desk and prepared for my morning meal.

But that was interrupted suddenly by the sound of my wife’s voice coming from the shower. Her towel was in the laundry and she needed a new one. I dutifully got up and stepped away from my desk to bring her a clean towel and was only gone from my desk for less than 30 seconds.

Yet, seeing the piece of raisin toast unguarded was apparently too much temptation for Fancy. By the time I got back to my desk, she was headed out the door and down the hallway with the slice of toast in her mouth. By the time I caught up with her she had swallowed the toast whole and I quickly retreated to my computer to look up if raisin toast could harm our dog.

I read with astonishment that raisins are highly toxic for dogs and told my wife I was going to immediately take Fancy to the 24-hour emergency veterinarian care facility for treatment. I put Fancy in the back seat of my car, and we made it there in a little more than a half-hour.

While I waited in the car, the veterinarian and vet tech team members took Fancy inside and induced vomiting by administering hydrogen peroxide. They were able to get some of the slice of raisin toast back that way, but not all of it.

After an hour, they also did a blood test on her to determine if her kidneys had processed any of the toxicity in the raisins. Thankfully, they had not. The veterinarian released Fancy back into my care and recommended another blood test the following day to ensure that no toxins remained in her system from consuming the raisin toast.

He told me that although raisins can be deadly for dogs, it is unknown precisely how many raisins a dog can tolerate for them to be toxic. Since it was also unknown as to how many actual raisins were in that slice of toast she ate, he thought she would be OK and but couldn’t be sure for a day or two.

The following afternoon my wife took Fancy to our veterinarian for the follow-up blood test and that turned out negative for toxins.

Between the emergency veterinarian treatment ($388) and the local vet’s blood test ($99), the entire sordid episode cost us a grand total of $487 and just a few weeks before Christmas too.

In hindsight, we learned some hard lessons that day. First, always check to see if there is a towel available before stepping into the shower. And second, never, ever, leave unattended food that could be toxic to animals within easy reach of our dog Fancy.

The infamous “Raisin Toast Incident” was entirely avoidable, and I’ll certainly know better in the future. Just glad everything worked out OK, even though our bank account suffered because of my inattentiveness and our dog could have met a much worse fate. <

Insight: The science of gratitude

By Lorraine Glowczak

Snow turns the world into one huge outdoor adventure for my dog, Zarah. She prances, runs, eats it and sticks her nose as far into the snow as she can. The fact that she is unable to speak my language, her joyful play makes it obvious how grateful and happy she is.

A happy dog in snow

The snow this past Friday was no different, but I noticed something that I hadn’t observed before. Once the newness of the snow wore off, Zarah let the beagle in her take over and began sniffing out the voles that make their home under the snow. At one point, her nose and head were buried so deep in the snow, intent on catching her prey that she missed an easy catch as a vole popped up from the white ground behind her and ran in a hopping manner toward the woods.

Smiling, I remember the times I was so intent on reaching for a goal that I missed what was right before me. They say feeling grateful helps to correct narrow vision, at least that is what Annette Bridges suggests in this week’s quote, “Gratitude helps us to see what is there instead of what isn’t.”

Thanksgiving reminds us to be grateful for those things we have, and in doing so, it helps us see those things we often miss throughout the year. There is some evidence that being thankful on a daily basis contributes to psychological health and makes us more joyful.

Before I continue, I think it is important to recognize that the holidays can be a time of sadness and anxiety for some who grieve what is not there (family, friends, etc.) The absence of these things cannot and should not be easily dismissed nor the feelings associated with those absences. If this is the case for you, may there be some peace in your heart as you go through this holiday season.

But, for the typical, everyday experience, Harvard Health online states, “Gratitude is strongly and consistently associated with greater happiness. Gratitude helps people feel more positive emotions, relish good experiences, improve their health, deal with adversity, and build strong relationships.”

A Science Daily article concurs with the above findings. “Numerous studies show that expressing and experiencing gratitude increases life satisfaction, vitality, hope, and optimism. It contributes to decreased levels of depression, anxiety, envy, and job-related stress and burnout. Perhaps most intriguing is that people who experience and express gratitude have reported fewer symptoms of physical illness, more exercise, and better quality of sleep.”

But if you are still not convinced that being thankful plays a role in a more joyful life, you can perform your own study. You don’t have to be a traditionally trained scientist to discover if these findings are true for you. Test it out. Try gratitude for a certain amount of time and – see what happens.

Now, back to the gratitude experienced by my dog last week. I’m curious how grateful she might be about the snow if she had to shovel the sidewalk.

From our home to yours…..Happy Thanksgiving.