Now that we’re all sequestered together, and restaurants are closed, it means most of us are cooking our meals at home. Last night we broke down and ordered a mushroom and caramelized onions, 18-inch pizza to pick-up from Bill’s Pizza. Probably the best pizza joint in Palm Springs. It was pretty good. Not good like Back East but good enough in a pinch. Pizza is best when it’s right out of the oven. So we ate the first two slices right in the truck. Morgan was in the back and must have smelled something delicious because he barked and then we felt guilty. So I reached back into the covered bed of the truck and gave him a bite of a cooled down section. That kept him happy until we got home.

But for the most part we’ve been cooking our meals at home. We’ve had a lot of soups that we keep going for a few days, adding ingredients as we go along. One person who loves to see us cooking is – Morgan! He sits right by the edge of the kitchen area and watches us intently. We swear that he licks his chops in anticipation. We call him our little sous-chef.

We only allow him to sit at the edge of the kitchen because I’m always afraid that I might drop something on Morgan or trip over him. My kitchens have always been small and it worries me.

So, here’s my question – Do you let your dog (or cat) come into the kitchen?

My answer to this question is “No.” Now, I’ve seen some Facebook posts of Goldens licking the pots and pans in a dishwasher and they are precious. So, I want to be clear with everyone that I ask this question with no judgement. Only curiosity. And to hear the funny stories.

Tell us the rules in your kitchen and where your best friend(s) likes to hang out when meals are being cooked?

We recently went up to Santa Barbara because James’ film was playing there. James has a lot of friends in Santa Barbara, two of whom work at the university. They are brilliant scientists. We visited their office on one of the days. Morgan was with us. The first thing I saw when we got out of the elevator of their building was a sign that read: Animal Resource Center. My heart dropped. I wanted to leave immediately. I knew I didn’t belong there. We stayed for a brief time. But the words on the sign have haunted me since. Though I didn’t say anything to the two friends who worked at this lab, my feelings for them have changed.

It’s easy to push away the horror that these “rodents” – rats and mice – are subject to.  The words we use to label things and animals and people are important. Weeds are anything we want to use Roundup on. In the last century bald eagles and golden eagles were considered vermin so they could be shot and poisoned nearly into extinction. We do the same for people by calling them alien.

All of my other blogs that I have previously written involve Morgan, dogs and Golden Retrievers. And that is what motivates this one as well.  I unequivocally oppose the Golden Retriever muscular dystrophy studies at the Texas A&M University. It makes sick. It makes me outraged and sad that there are these sweet crippled animals held captive in a lab. These poor Goldens are bred to have muscular dystrophy and are forced to live out their lives in pain and distress. The lucky ones are euthanized (killed) when they are six months old.  As I stood there in front of the sign in Santa Barbara, with Morgan next to me, I could not not be reminded about the Goldens in Texas. Here’s a link to an article from the Dallas Morning News from this past August about this cruel situation.  https://www.dallasnews.com/news/education/2019/09/12/texas-am-researchers-quietly-bred-sick-dogs-in-hopes-of-finding-human-muscular-dystrophy-cure/

But it isn’t just Goldens. I have also been following and taking online actions for the group called White Coat Waste Project. They are actively trying to end dog experiments at the VA. The dog of breed they focus on are beagles. They also work to free monkeys. Universities in Michigan use dogs for testing.

How can I reconcile my love for Morgan and all dogs, and think that testing and experimenting and keeping these other dogs in cages to be alright? I can’t. Many of us consider our pets to be family. I do so as well. This could have been Morgan. I cannot accept testing on family members. And for me it doesn’t stop with dogs or cats. It includes monkeys, where macaques and marmosets are mainly used.  But we also know that rabbits are used in many other tests, cosmetic products for one example. I just discovered that Purina uses 1400 cats and dogs in tests for their food. That is so hypocritical. Do no wrong Purina!

Where do we draw the line? At what species is it okay to test and experiment on? And who gets to decide this? These animals feel pain and fear. These animals have not agreed to this arrangement. This is a form of bullying. The mighty rule over the weak and meek. We don’t test on lions and wolves and other more ferocious animals. We use the weakest. The most peaceful.

There’s no point is discussing advances in medicine. There’s a group called Physicians for Responsible Medicine who claim that most animal tests are never approved by the FDA. They rarely lead to any advantages for humans. Several thousand diseases affect humans, of which only about 500 have any treatment. A novel drug can take 10 to 15 years and more than $2 billion to develop, and failure occurs about 95 percent of the time. They advocate that this money would be better spent finding alternative research options. Mainly using computers.  I’ve been HIV+ for forty years. I don’t want them testing on animals to find a cure for me. There are computer models that can do the job now. The past is the past. We can’t change it. But we can change the future. The current system is not working. Cures are not coming quick enough. It’s time to end all animal testing. That’s my opinion.

As I sit here writing I still wonder if I should have made my displeasure known to these friends. I chose not to at that time and place. I feel guilty about it. I chickened out. I’m upset with myself that I didn’t speak up. It’s so easy to not speak out for those without a voice. When I did AIDS activism all those many years ago I did it to speak out for those who couldn’t. For those who were too afraid. Or too sick. Now I feel that same way about animals.

I wonder what’s going to happen if and when I see these two friends again. How long can I remain quiet? I know I’ll try to avoid them. But sooner or later it will probably happen.

Here’s my request. Before anyone responds to this article please remember to be kind to each other. There will be no attacks, no foul language, no vulgarity. Keep your comments focused on your own opinions and not on anyone else’s. Any inappropriate comments will be deleted right away. I won’t tolerate any offensive comments on Rescued By Goldens Facebook page and I won’t tolerate it here, either.

Here’s some other information I wanted to include. So far, Oscar nominated actor and director, James Cromwell, has protested these tests. Paul McCartney has protested these tests. Pamela Anderson has offered to adopt all the dogs. Miami+Tennessee quarterback and alumnus, Ryan Tannehill, has sent a letter to the Dean protesting these tests. A growing chorus opposes these cruel tests.

Morgan will soon be turning 12. We rescued him when he was about one year old. Now his face is turning that whiter, sugary look. I know it well. My first Golden, Nicholas, lived to be nearly 15. His face turned almost completely white.

I’ve often said that there’s nothing more comfortable than an old dog. I still believe it’s true. An older dog is like stepping into your favorite slippers. There’s a deeper kind of love with an older dog. It’s different than when you get a puppy. A puppy is adorable and energetic. The love is lighter. It’s more fun. Every day is a new surprise. With a puppy they roll and jump. They run and slide. With a young dog the trick is to keep him/her from charging ahead too fast.

It’s gentler with a senior dog. You try to coax them along; making sure he or she keeps going. Morgan has always been an active dog. We still make sure to exercise him twice a day. Our vet says, “Keep him moving. Keep the muscles active.” The commercial on TV says, “A body in motion, stays in motion.” One thing I’ve learned about an older dog is that they refuse to do anything they don’t like to do. Kind of like older folks. So I know he likes the walks along the golf course. And out at the beach in the park above the ocean cliff. I treasure these walks as much as I enjoyed the hikes up to the surrounding peaks when we all were younger.

Over the years, patterns have developed. You know each other well. You know what each other likes and needs. Morgan has always enjoyed barking at other dogs.  He would bark at every dog we met. At first we were upset by this. Then we noticed how much he and his BFF, Angel Cody, loved to bark at each other. Their tails up wagging with happiness. We’ve learned to accept this about Morgan.

It goes both ways. Morgan has learned to accept that it takes us forever to get out of the house. When we take Morgan out with us in the car, he refuses to get in until we start the engine. Why? Because he knows that we forget things and go back inside two or three times before we really drive away. He knows us as well as we know him.

Having an older dog is precious time. Share with us a special moment that you’ve had loving an older dog.

We recently attended the opening night movie of the Palm Springs International Film Festival, All Is True, directed and staring Kenneth Branagh. The cast also included Judi Dench and Ian McKelllen, all actors that I admire. But the film lacked any of Shakespeare’s cleverness. Afterwards, my partner and I attended the premier party.

We found a table and devoured the delicious food, getting plenty in a doggie bag for Morgan. A short time later, three Latinas sat at the table with us. After the initial greetings my partner asked them if they enjoyed the film. At first I thought they would say they didn’t. Imagine my surprise when each of them said they liked it.  I chimed right in that I thought it was dull and tedious and lacking in any of Shakespeare’s wit.   They responded by saying that they related to Shakespeare’s daughter and what she went through as a woman.

A cold breeze settled upon the table – What more could three Latinas have in common with two older white gay men? – until the Latina sitting closest to me asked me about the dog design on my brown corduroy holiday pants. I responded that they are Golden Retrievers; that I’ve had three of them. She immediately reached for her phone and suddenly I was looking at pictures of her beautiful Golden boy. Now we were best friends. Shortly, the other two women showed their pictures of one’s chihuahua and the other’s Australian shepherd.

Feeling a connection to these fellow dog lovers, my rigid opinion of the film melted away. I realized that they did have a point. Back then women couldn’t be published, so when Shakespeare’s daughter wrote her poems and stories she used her brother’s name. When this fact was revealed to Shakespeare he refused to believe that his daughter was so talented. Now, 400 years later, women are still fighting to be treated equally in the work place.

We left sharing each other’s Facebook pages and wished each other well. We laughed at how our furry friends had given us something meaningful to share in common. Dogs transcend age, gender, race and all the other isms. I think that’s why we humans love them so much. Our dogs don’t judge. Our best friends break down barriers.

All This is True!

One of my favorite things to do on FB is looking at all the pictures and videos of our furry companions. I love seeing them in all their different situations. Swimming in the water. Jumping around ready to chase a ball. Rolling on their backs. Lying in bed with the one they own and hanging out with their bros and sisters. I especially love learning all their different names. It made me smile last week when I found two Goldens with birthdays on the 4th, named “Freedom” and “Indie”. I think it’s clear what motivated the names of these two Goldies.

It made me think about how I chose the names for my boys. I called my first Golden, Nicholas.  He joined our home three weeks before Christmas, so I thought of St Nicholas. Then I added Nickelby after the Dickens character, Nicholas Nickelby.

Willy, my second Golden was named after his breeder who had long straggly hair, a lot like Willie Nelson. I dropped the “ie” and made it a “y”. I added the name Shakespeare to make Willy Shakespeare, keeping in tradition of famous English writers.

When our current Golden (Morgan), rescued us, he was named Sparky by the rescue group.  Since I had a neighbor with a dog named Sparky I decided that that wasn’t a good match. Our new boy was rather wild, like a pirate, so we named him after Captain Morgan of the Jamaican rum company. Captain Morgan was basically a pirate who eventually cleaned up his act and was Knighted. Much the way we hoped for with Morgan – a pirate soon to become Golden royalty. We decided to name him Morgan McGillicuddy after McGillicuddy’s Soda Fountain Shop where I grew up in South Boston.

What about you? Tell us how you chose the names of your four-legged family member(s)?