Pyr Spring Fest 2008
(As told to me by Lotzi and Gilda)
I'm told that Pyrs don't mind a three hour trip. I was told this on my way to the Appalachian Great Pyrenees Rescue in Richmond as we were coming from Baltimore . I was told this by the two most recent additions to my family, Lotzi and Gilda. They were dozing at the time. Not that they slept the whole time. They were very excited about some of the trip, but Pyrs don't like to waste energy. Or at least that's what I'm told.
The first most obvious thing about the Pyr Spring Fest was the fact that most Pyr owners drive vans, like me. My van has enough room for three bucket seats and two very large dogs. I would imagine that's par for the Pyr course.
It was nice to finally meet Ms. Victoria face to face. We were introduced mostly by Lotzi who evidently went by the name “Kevin” at one time. (He's never completely told us of his past, being a dog of mystery.)
After signing in, we listened to Miss Victoria give us a little talk on what Pyrs should eat. She said that since they can be highly allergic Pyr owners need to be very discriminating in what they feed their dogs. No beef, no corn, no wheat, no sugar. Lotzi told me later that chocolate chip cookies and most flavors of ice cream were fine too. I told him I doubted it. Gilda said she's okay with whatever chicken bones she can find on our walks. I told her we're not walking through the back alley anymore. Gilda asked me, “Who are you again?”
The next event that we participated in was the Parade of Pyrs. It was interesting, and heartbreaking, to hear the stories that came with each dog. Each person stepped up and spoke about his Pyr companion. One dog was tied up for years by the side of the road. Another was used for breeding and then taken to a kill shelter when all used up. Lotzi and Gilda bravely stood by when it was our turn. Lotzi's memory sometimes works against him, like when someone comes up behind him too quickly, or when he hears a loud sharp noise, like a firecracker. He'd rather stay in the moment, when he can. Both Lotzi and Gilda told me that they missed their last owner, Miss Sandy Zimmerman, who was a fixture with the AGPR until her untimely death, but they're happy with us too.
When Miss Karen gave us a talk about grooming, Lotzi volunteered. (Sometimes he surprises me. Like I said, he's a dog of mystery.) He got up on the table and let Miss Karen work on him. She showed us how to get out mats and get rid of tear stains, among other things. I couldn't help but notice the swagger in Lotzi's step when he was finished.
Now as far as the contests, our dogs like them as much as any other Pyr. And that's the problem. I couldn't wait to get Lotzi and Gilda in the fastest cookie eater contest. I explained to them, no running, no jumping, and no commands. You just eat a cookie. You eat a cookie like it's going out of style. You guys can do that. It was made for a Pyr! That's when Gilda looked the other way. I could have sworn I heard her mumble, “Yeah, yeah, yeah,”
Needless to say neither one of them bothered with the cookie. I don't know. Was it too much pressure? What should have been a photo-finish type of thing ended up being an endurance contest. Who will give up first – the dog or the guy with the stop watch?
This brings us to the 40-yard dash. Now for a Pyr, THAT'S an endurance contest. It takes a Pyr a long, long time to casually saunter down a 40-yard corridor. It takes a Pyr a long, long time to decide to casually saunter down a 40-yard corridor. When I first showed the 40-yard dash contest to my dogs, I could have sworn I heard Gilda mumble, “Pyrs don't dash”. (I've noticed she mumbles a lot lately.) We watched some of the other contestants run. One of them really took off. The conversation among us went something like this:
Me: “Wow! Did you see that? That Pyr looked like a rocket!”
Lotzi: “Can't be a Pyr.”
Gilda: “No, that's not a Pyr. Must be some kind of mix.”
Lotzi: “Yeah, a mix.”
Gilda: “Yeah, whatever he's mixed with looked like a rocket.”
Lotzi: “Yeah!”
Me: “Come on guys, it's our turn.”
Gilda: “Who are you again?”
Well, my dogs “ran”, sort of. Everyone was cheering for them to cross the finish line. They cheered for quite a long time. I still owe three people a box of throat lozenges.
After we participated in the 40-yard dash, we went to the obstacle course. I couldn't help but overhear Lotzi ask Gilda, “If we didn't like the 40-yard dash, what makes him think we're going to like an obstacle course?” I just played it cool. I am the master, after all. Right? RIGHT?
We watched the other dogs go through the course. The conversation among us went something like this:
Me: “See?” You run around that cone.”
Lotzi: “Why would you run around a cone?”
Me: “Because that's part of the contest.”
Gilda: “But it's faster to go straight.”
Me: “Oh, great. You can't eat a cookie fast. You can't run the 40-yard dash fast, but now you're worried about going fast.”
Lotzi: “We're just trying to help.”
Me: “Now he's got to sit.”
Gilda: “Sit? Why would he sit? It's some kind of race, isn't it?”
Me: “He sits because he's TOLD to sit!”
Gilda: “Like I said, why would he sit?”
Lotzi: “Watch! The second he sits, they're going to make him get up. Look! See?”
Me: “Come on guys, it's our turn.”
Gilda: “Who are you again?”
For us, the best part of the day came near the end. A young lady was walking a Pyr mix to her car. We happened to overhear her say that she was taking her dog to his forever home for the first time. We just watched the dog swagger next to her. He held up a proud curl-tail. He didn't have time to talk. He was going home. Lotzi and Gilda were speechless.
“There are always, in every area of live, human beings who can be counted on to act recklessly and selfishly, leaving behind them a trail of trouble and hurt and then there are always those others who come along to repair the damage. Where there is human suffering, they're the ones who found and run orphanages, homes for the beaten wives or unwed mothers in need of help. They found ministries for prisoners and their children like Charles Colson and his thousands of volunteers They open training centers for the jobless, refuges for the addicted or destitute, hospitals for the sick, and hospices for the dying in every corner of the world. We honr these people, even when we ourselves may lack their heroic idealism, because we know that theirs is a calling and bears witness to the best in humanity,
You will find all across the world the same kind of people helping neglected or mistreated animals. Theirs, too, is a special calling, not a distraction from ther work of human love and charity but very much a part of it. They take in the orphans and give shelter to the stray, neglected, beaten, or malnourished. They follow in the path of sport hunters, trappers, whalers to help the “wounded or lost”. They collect the discards from our farms, zoos, and laboratories. They follow debates in Congress and all the legislatures of the world, on the scene to make a case for forgotten animals. And though their efforts are often belittled, if all of a sudden they stopped their work, we would notice.”
- Matthew Scully called Dominion: The Power of Man, The Suffering of Animals, and the Call To Mercy .
Thank you, AGPR.
Joseph J. Stefan