Why I love living in Boyne City

Today is a great day to affirm why I love living in Northern Michigan, in general, and Boyne City in specific. It's 50 degrees, sunny, with no snow on the horizon - knock on wood. Yesterday morning as I did yard duty at school, I watch ducks flying and two bald eagles soaring. After school, there were four turkey vultures soaring out in back of the house. (Something must have died nearby.) Watching these big birds fly by gliding on air currents, swooping to the ground and back, is amazing.

This morning before school, we let the dogs out the back door. I started to make oatmeal and out the slider, no more than five yards away stood a beautiful doe. I saw her, but the dogs who were running around the yard didn't. She stood perfectly still watching me through the window and listening for the dogs. Jim and I had been seeing tracks for a while, but feared that three noisy dogs were more than deer wanted to mess with. We'd been startled in the dark by the running noises in the woods, but the actual deer sitings, other than the white tails floating like ghosts in the distance have been few and far between. I just watched the doe for five minutes, before Sassy and Molly picked up the scent, with Bo not far behind. Sassy barked twice and the doe and her companion deer ( just saw the tail), trotted off a bit further into the side woods. We could still see them. They had obviously figured out that the e-fence keeps the dogs from chasing into the woods. Jim and I watched a while longer. Sassy saw their movement, barked and they ambled slowly over the ridge, where they were out of sight.

I got to school and found out staff had nominated me twice in the last month for Rambler Pride award, an anonymous way for staff to give positive reinforcement to each other. Once was for understanding kids and handling discipline so well. The other was in conjunction with the principal for changing the school climate from a negative one to a postive one. So, that was nice, to say the least.

Today ten minutes before the end of school, a mother came in concerned that there had been a drunk man at the bus stop and that the kids had hovered in back of her to stay away from him. She worried about what would happen at the end of the day, because she was picking her kid up and there wouldn't be another adult there. I called the Boyne City Police Department and asked the dispatcher, if on five minutes notice, she could have a squad car at the bus stop to just wait and watch there until students had safely unloaded. She responded that she could. I literally hung up the phone and walked out to bus duty. The police car was already there making sure the buses hadn't left, yet. Then, it was off to wait at the bus stop.

No offense to my Vista friends, but I used to call from Alta to say there was a young man dealing drugs with his pitt bull half a block from the school, and school would let out in a few minutes. Rarely, was I able to get a police car dispatched, even if I called repeatedly. Sadly, the young man with the pitt bull was later shot and killed in a local park, leaving the dog tied to the fence. I've always mused, "If only someone had intervened sooner." He was only 16 or 17 years old. For contrast - here, it was possible a drunk MIGHT show up again at the bus stop, and the police were all over PREVENTION - what a concept! It's a small town.

Jeff sent two things from Korea, his guitar priority mail, and some videos book rate. I called the post office when the tapes didn't come in. I had been worried, because both Jim and I got calls about a package needing postage from Korea. A week later when I found out Jeff had sent two packages, I called the post office panicked that someone had called each of us for different packages and my ignoring the call made them send the one they called me for back. The clerk said only one package had arrived, but he had called both of our cells to make sure someone knew about it. He explained that book rate takes a long time. He said, surely they would have noticed another package from Asia. He told me not to worry, because if I hadn't called back, he would have tried again. Now that he knew I was looking for another box, he'd track the tapes and be on the lookout for them. Sure enough, yesterday, the tapes arrived - not in my mailbox (1/4 mile from the house), not with a note saying to go the post office to pick up - but right next to my downstairs front door. In Boyne City, even with governmental cutbacks, somehow, the basic systems aren't overwhelmed, like they are in Southern California.

Today, Jim had Molly at the Chamber office, so since it was a shortened day for Good Friday, we went to eat at Water Street Cafe, while Molly watched the Chamber office. Everyone who came in the Chamber was petting her and making a fuss. We knew half the folks at the restaurant. It felt like Vista's Curbside Cafe.

I went home to see the contractor working on my bathroom who explained where he was on the project. The interior designer had stopped by, let herself in, inspected and left grout color samples, but I'm sure she's picked one out. Sassy and Bo had the run of the house and yard. Those who know Sassy know the minor miracle it was that she had made her peace with both the interior designer and the contractor and basically ignored their comings and goings.

I frisbee-tossed with Bo in the yard. It's his second day with a Frisbee (actually a disc) and he's all over it. He's catching about a third of what I'm tossing. Sassy will chase it on the ground and then shake it and run away with it. Molly will catch, if she doesn't have to run and it's a perfect throw. Bo will be awesome, if I can ever learn how to throw the thing right.

Then, I remembered that I had two books due today at the library. When I got a library card, they gave me a PIN to renew books online, but of course I never went online to do it, and I lost the paper with the PIN. I phoned the library. Sue Conklin, whose husband runs the Main Street organization answered the phone. She renewed my books for me over the phone, and talked me through getting a new PIN to boot. No bureaucratic hassle.

I think of any of the things I've done so easily today, and how much a nightmare any one of them would be in a big city. There was no roaming wildlife in the woods, no Frisbee room in the yard for entertainment. There were contractor hassles, post office hassles, police response hassles, and library hassles. We DID have a great restaurant where we ate lunch and knew everyone, which we've replaced with a restaurant here. I thank my lucky stars for living in a small town and being able to enjoy wildlife in its natural environment.

Molly and the toddler

The sun was shining with a cool breeze in Vista, California where Love on a Leash Golden Retriever was visiting Alta Vista High School with owner/handler Jamie Baumann. Alta Vista is a continuation school for students who have fallen behind in regular high school try to catch up. On the Alta Vista Campus is a Teen Parent nursery, so teen parents have childcare for their babies, while they complete high school.

It was a festival spirit, as lunch break was extended for a Valentine’s Day feast. The student rock band had just begun to play. One of the students had asked Jamie to get a picture of him in the band. No problem. It was then, that Jamie broke the cardinal rule of therapy dog handling. She left Molly in a downstay in the middle of the grassy quad, while she just ran over to take a picture or two. Molly knew the command. She had a great downstay. No problem. Right?

After snapping a few shots, Jamie looked back to check on Molly from about 25 yards away. To her horror, Molly was lying just as she should, but a toddler had toddled shakily away from her mother and was picking up the end of Molly’s leash. Molly was lying on the leash and it was tangled through her legs. The toddler grabbed the end of the leash and started to pull. Jamie didn’t know what to do. If Jamie called Molly, Molly would come, but the baby girl would certainly fall over. If Molly put any pressure on the leash at all, the toddler would fall. She was very wobbly in her new walk on her own. She was holding a valentine lollipop in one hand and the leash in the other. Jamie decided make no quick moves and watch to see what would happen. She was hoping against hope that Molly wouldn't slurp the lollipop from the baby girl’s hand.

To Jamie’s amazement, as the toddler pulled the end of the leash, Molly gingerly got up, carefully untangling herself and putting no pressure on the end of the leash. Then, this big Golden retriever started to follow the toddler, making sure there was always slack on the leash. At this point, Jamie who had the camera, took the picture. Who would have believed it?

Our therapy dogs have a tremendous capacity to know how to behave with or without us. Molly knew just how to interact with this inquisitive and precocious toddler. Jamie learned not to let go of the leash again.

Jamie Baumann is a dog trainer with Jamie’s Dog Training Company in Vista, California.

The boss comes to lunch

We moved into our new home on Tax Day, April 15, 2003. Molly arrived in May. During the summer, I had time off to be with Molly. I took her everywhere. She was a hyper pup, full of energy, warmth and joie de vivre. The only down side of Molly seemed to be her immune system. After her first innoculations, she swelled up and had a seizure. From then on the vet had to keep her all day for the immunizations. She had fairly constant hives for the first couple of years of her life, until we put her on Flint River Ranch Fish and Chips (Trout and Sweet Potatoes). Now, four years later, she still has bouts of hives, but they seem to be seasonal and environmental in nature.

Back to my story - summer was idyllic. I worked shortened days and hung out with Molly. She was delightful. Yes, she chewed up a few socks, some woodwork and there were the two holes in the carpet, but all in all she wasn't a bad pup. When she was about four months old, I invited the other high school principal and my assistant superintendent boss over for lunch to check out my new house and my new puppy. In fact, these were the first visitors since the unfortunate baby bird incident.

When we arrived, Molly leapt on the front room sofa to see out the window. She jumped on all, wiggled uncontrollably, got gold dog hair on their dark pants, and mouthed their arms, making sure there was plenty of dog slobber on their long-sleeved shirts. She was an absolute out-of-control maniac, grabbing at their food, pawing at the chairs. She pawed so hard that the new easy chair actually came apart. (I quickly pushed the arm back together before they noticed.)

In short, we scarcely could eat lunch, because my spoiled puppy didn't like dividing my attention with anyone. Lunch with the boss was miserable, to say the least.

Jamie meets Molly

Molly joins the Baumanns

I ordered and named Molly before she was conceived. Both of my kids, Jeff and Chelsea, were grown and gone. Empty nest feelings were setting in. I needed a Golden retriever, I insisted. I promised to train it. It would be the perfect dog, I promised. I would call her Molly.

Jim, my husband, couldn't believe I actually wanted a dog. There had been a time when with two small children I had banished our two previous mutts with their fleas and dirt to the back yard. I rarely interacted with them. They ran with the kids as they grew. They grew old and died, outside yard dogs.

We had had the freedom of being dogless for a decade. Wasn't it time to travel and enjoy life as a couple?" my husband asked. I was quite convincing about how committed I was to getting a dog and training it as a true, well-mannered companion.

A friend who worked with my sister had a Golden retriever that she intended to breed. I ordered a female and told her the dog would be named Molly. Out of the womb, Molly was called by her name, treated as special, played with the most, and scandalously pampered. She was the ONLY female born in a litter of 10 pups. She was the runt of the litter and the lightest in color. She was going to be my perfect dog.

A couple of weeks after Molly was born, a bachelor friend Mark Putnam and I took the two-hour drive in rain to view the pups. Molly fit in my hand, limp with eyes barely opened. Mark fell in love and reserved the second lightest and largest pup in the litter. He named Molly's brother, Max.

At eight weeks, Molly came home to our brand new house. I had picked out the carpet not to show Golden retriever hair. The dog pen had cement footings, so she couldn't dig out. We were ready to love our new perfect pet.

As promised, I enrolled Molly in puppy school. She barked and peed the floor in each and every puppy classes, paying no attention at all to any of the commands that we were supposedly teaching. Just before our third class, new neighbors stopped by to introduce themselves to me and invite us to the first annual Fourth of July block party. I took them out to our back yard to see our new landscaping shaping up. I introduced them to my new puppy.

Molly was jumping, wiggling, and running. All at once, we all gasped as we saw the hurt baby bird fluttering helplessly. It was almost as big as Molly's head. Three women ran toward the poor thing to save it from harm, but Molly was much faster than we were. She grabbed it in her mouth and ran round and round. We chased and screamed, but in one gulp, Molly swallowed it whole. My new neighbors and I were horrified. We were all fighting back the retching.

I quietly led the new neighbors back out to the front door. After a pregnant pause, we tried valiantly to refocus on the upcoming party. Finally, I said how nice it was to meet them. "If you ever want to experience another 'Wild Kingdom' moment, just stop by," I lamely joked, as I closed the door.

Of course, the question for the puppy class instructor that evening was, "Can swallowing a bird whole hurt this puppy? Will it block something? Will she need an operation?"

The instructor said, "Watch the poop. Hopefully it will just pass through."

I couldn't bear to do it, but my husband Jim took on poop patrol duty. He reported a couple of days later that a bird skull had shown up. Guess Molly wasn't going to die from eating a bird. Jim and I decided to skip the Fourth of July party. We became known in the neighborhood as the people whose mean puppy ate the poor, helpless, baby bird. As the story was passed from neighbor to neighbor, it became more and more embellished. We decided it was best to lie low.

And this is how Molly, "my perfect dog," began her life in our family. The time it would take to help Molly become my "perfect dog" ideal had started to set in. We had a long way to go.