Eh?

 “So, where are you from?”

A common enough question, at least in a sane world, but becoming increasingly problematic given the seemingly ever-increasing global turmoil.

Like one heck of a lot of retirees my wife and I had envisioned doing some traveling in our ‘golden years’ (whatever that means) and so far we’ve been moderately successful save for brief interruptions from things like COVID. We often get asked the question of where we’re from out of most folks natural curiosity or simply as a conversation starter. Innocent enough on the surface  but more challenging than ever to honestly answer. Why? What’s wrong with simply saying “We’re from Denver, Colorado!”? The short answer is that it immediately shares our nationality - American. 

Years ago we were on a trip that stopped briefly in Nicaragua that to put it mildly has had an interesting relationship with the good ole’ U.S.of A and were told that if asked where we were from we probably didn’t want to acknowledge our true country of origin. So, just like that, I became Canadian, eh. If anyone pressed, especially since I don’t really sound Canadian, I was from Vancouver, just across the border from Seattle. Point being that most Nicaraguans are perhaps not up on their Canadian geography and more importantly Canadian accents to truly know what someone from the beautiful city of Vancouver actually sounds like. 

Why Canadian? Well, most folks like Canadians and for the last couple of centuries Canada hasn’t dominated global happenings and all the political and military baggage that comes along with that. Simply put, Canadians are usually not a target when traveling. Americans are. 

This Spring, while on a cruise in the Caribbean, I was again asked the “where you from?” question. I thought I’d try the “Canada, eh” response and see if I was any more successful at convincing this nice Antiguan (or whatever the proper designation is for someone from the paradise that is the island of Antigua) than I had been with the Nicaraguans. Now, he didn’t immediately tell me that I didn’t sound Canadian. Instead, what he did tell me, was that I didn’t look Canadian. Hmmmm. My travel advisor hadn’t trained me on how to look Canadian or conversely, not look American. Stereotypes aside, what does a Canadian look like? I mean, granted I’ll never be confused with Wayne Gretzky, but can you tell that William Shatner, Michael Fox, and Justin Bieber (and many more very famous and accomplished people) are all from the Great White North just by looking at them? 

We were in Morocco last year, the city of Marrakech to be specific. Depending on the political climate at any given time Americans might or might not be welcome in this beautiful country at the northern tip of Africa. Wandering the streets of the old town we were approached by two young men who, speaking English, wanted to take us on a tour (notwithstanding the fact that we were already on a tour!). I pretended not to understand them and inevitably when they asked, in English, where I was from, I immediately proclaimed “Deutschland!” (Germany) and in my best 7th grade German asked them “sprechen sie deutsch?” (Do you speak German?). They didn’t buy my being German any more than the Nicaraguans or Antiguans bought my being Canadian, eh, Fortunately our Moroccan Tour Guide (did I mention that we were already on a tour?) intervened and we were on our merry way. 

All this is a long way of getting to the fact that we are scheduled to head to Europe in December to take one of the trips on our retirement bucket list (“bucket list, eh!” - see… I really can pass for Canadian!) and with the state of world affairs are starting to recognize that once again we may well be persona non grata (unwelcome) based on our nationality. As our State Department points out: Due to increased tensions in various locations around the world, the potential for terrorist attacks, demonstrations or violent actions against U.S. citizens and interests, the Department of State advises U.S. citizens overseas to exercise increased caution. Meaning don’t stand out in the way you look or sound. If our travel history and my laughable efforts is any guide that will be easier said than done.

Anyhoo (as one of my former coworkers used to say), I thought I’d share a short video of a trip we did this Fall much closer to home where no one asked us where we were from. Granted it was only a couple of miles from where we live but the bottom line is that it was a glorious Fall day to get out and see the autumn colors from a different perspective. While you watch the video I’m going to be busy digging through my closet to find my toque (stocking hat) that proves I’m from beautiful Banff, Canada, eh!

Never have to touch your shoes again!

I was waking up this morning to a cup of hot tea, warm oatmeal with fresh blueberries, and my local paper. I don’t often read the physical print edition anymore having subscribed to the digital version some years back. But, just like with books, I love the tactile sensation of turning a physical page of a newspaper so when the Denver Post offered a deal giving digital subscribers the print edition of the Sunday Post at no cost I was excited to again lay my hands on some actual newsprint.

I know the Post didn’t make this offer out of the goodness of their corporate heart. This time of year, heading into the Christmas gift-giving season, the savvy minds at the Post knew they had to get the Sunday ad supplement in front of the eyeballs of subscribers and since digital only readers probably skip the ad section entirely this seemed like a good way to do it. Used to be that the ad supplement this time of year was thicker than the actual newspaper and I admit to actually enjoying browsing through the ads seeing what was hot and what was not for the upcoming Yuletide season. Nowadays advertisers have too many other options to divert your attention so even with this latest promotion the ad supplement as well as the newspaper itself remain woefully thin. 

Still, amidst the stories about doom and gloom that seem to be what our world is all about these days, one advertiser did successfully catch my eye and no, it wasn’t because of the two attractive and young models who seemed somewhat at odds with the message of the ad. Skechers, which bills itself as “The Comfort Technology Company” shares the tough task, like all shoe companies, of continually coming up with something new so that their CEO’s and CFO’s don’t have to go into their quarterly earnings calls sweating bullets. The ad that caught my eye this morning didn’t so much tell me what their ‘new’ product would do for me as it bragged about what I wouldn’t have to do if I spent my hard-earned money on their newest offering. Like, not bending over. Like, not touching my shoes. Like, no kidding. Now Skechers didn’t invent the slip-on shoe (or as they are marketing it - the “slip-in”) which has been around Like, Forever. But they have brought not having to do anything to do something to a new, and I would argue, lower level. “Putting on your shoes has never been easier. No bending over. No pulling them on. No hassles.” In short - “Effortless Comfort”  can be yours for only $75-$90 (yeah, I looked up the price on their website).

I know, I know - there are many among us who on any given morning roll out of bed and wonder how we are going to face another day let alone deal with the aches and pains that make bending over and touching shoes sometimes problematic. But see, here’s the thing. The two attractive and young models didn’t look the type who would have any issue at all in bending over to touch their shoes. In fact they looked fresh out of a Yoga class where contortions like ‘Downward Facing Dog’ and ‘Happy Baby’ feature prominently. In fact, they looked like they were headed for a Lululemon photo shoot and somehow took a wrong turn and ended up hawking footwear products that allow you to “Go Hands Free”. 

And what about the fine (and perhaps soon to be lost) art of shoelace tying? How will our kids ever become functional adults if they never learn “Loop, Swoop, and Pull!”? We’ve already lost kids being taught how to write in script and now this? If I wanted to be really snarky I’d say that Skechers is contributing to the ruination of our future leaders but I’ll pass since our current leaders can’t seem to walk and chew gum at the same time which is in itself another long-lost art.

Meanwhile, somewhere back in reality-land my better half and I just returned from back East where we rode our bicycles from Pittsburgh to Washington D.C. along the Great Allegheny Passage and the C&O Canal Towpath. And yes, there was much bending over and touching of shoes. No kidding. It’s trips like this that I hope will allow me to be able to tie my own shoes for many years to come. The video below shares some of our snapshots from the trail. We rode the route with a group of 12 through a company called Wilderness Voyageurs which as far as I know is making no claims other than offering great cycling vacations across the U.S. And our two guides Rachel and Jodie ably guided this group of shoe-tying bender-overs through three States and the District of Columbia. 

Oh, and one more thing - did you notice the footwear on the model on the right? What does it feature? Tied Shoelaces!!! Score one for some factory worker somewhere who apparently still knows how to “Loop, Swoop, and Pull”.

Off the beaten path: It's not for everyone...?

Nebraska's tourism slogans have ranged from "Nebraska Nice" to "The Good Life" to the current "Nebraska: It's not for everyone." For someone like me who's only real exposure to Nebraska has been driving through it on Interstate 80 I've never put any of the slogans to the test but from behind the steering wheel of a car whizzing through what appear to be endless fields of corn I'd have guessed that I'd lean toward the latest incarnation. 

Still, thanks to an Instagram ad, I had been enticed to sign up for a two-day bike ride deep into Cornhusker territory and miracle of miracles had actually been able to convince my wife to join me. Starting in Lincoln, which is the capital, the Goldenride would see us bicycle on the Homestead Trail south to the small town of Beatrice, spend the night camping in a bucolic park and then return the way we came. 88 miles of riding over two days which by September should be eminently doable for any cyclist who has put in even a modicum of in-the-saddle training on their two-wheeled steed. And better yet, the Homestead Trail is almost pancake flat which for this Colorado boy would be a pleasant change from riding the type of Colorado terrain perhaps better suited for an elevator or ski lift. 

The ad promised sunny skies and warm - not hot - weather, live music, craft beer, delicious food, and a football watch party where the Cornhusker fans (of which there were many) could revel in University of Colorado Coach Prime leading the Buffs to their second consecutive win. I guess "Victory: It's not for everyone" also rings true for Nebraskans. But I digress...

The weather certainly lived up to the hype with temps in the 70's and low 80's, sunny skies as promised, and little wind. All in all a cyclist's dream forecast. A group of around 250 set off from downtown Lincoln not quite at the crack of dawn with most reaching Beatrice by early afternoon where we set up our tents in the very pleasant Chautauqua Park. There was even a shower truck provided complete with supplied soap and shampoo and most importantly, hot water. Food trucks were on hand to fill hungry tummies or you could take a shuttle to some of the other culinary establishments in town. All I can say is that there was a tad less corn in the fields by the end of the day. And the Tidball-Barger Band wasn't half bad either.

Did I mention beer? The free shuttles did a booming business taking folks to the local drinking establishments which I am sure were most appreciative of the unexpected but more than welcome crowd of folks a wee bit thirsty after battling 40+ miles of crushed limestone trail. Perhaps the only downside to Goldenride 2023 was that some of the already quite gregarious cyclists returned to Chautauqua Park somewhat more boisterous than when they left such that the start of 'quiet hours' in the park were delayed by an hour or two... or three. Still, I can understand they had to drown their sorrows from that afternoon's loss on the gridiron and the good news was that by next morning no one seemed much the worse for wear. 

The ride back to Lincoln was uneventful and peaceful as the miles slowly passed by beneath or wheels. The trail looked vaguely familiar from what we had experienced the day before (it's an out and back ride after all) but going the other direction one was able to glimpse nuances and perspectives different from the prior day. 

All in all, the Goldenride Bikefest delivered on everything it promised and offered a type of ride and terrain (rails to trails) not readily available in Colorado. If I hadn't been on the Goldenride I'd probably have been doing a gravel race in Gunnison that same weekend but I've got to say taking a break from the competition-focused events of my home State was a luxury much appreciated. And kudos to the organizers for putting on such a well-run event. On a spin from the new Nebraska slogan, they got it right when they advertised their ride: "Honestly, it's for everyone."

Here's a quick snapshot of what Goldenride was like:

Being all you can be at Great Clips

Nothing like a haircut to remind me of the passage of time.

I'm going out to lunch today with two very special friends and went to my local Great Clips since I was beginning to look like Shaggy the dog and wanted to make myself presentable. Don't know if you frequent Great Clips, but at my local salon the online wait times have been creeping up over the years. I figured on a Thursday morning I'd be able to log in, head to the salon, and plop into the chair for my semiannual 'above the ears and above the collar' trim. Not so fast buddy. A thirty minute wait was ahead of me. Interestingly, the salon has like 10 chairs but I've only ever seen two or three in use. Oh well, they say that time is money, but not quite sure who's pockets all that green is going into.

Another sign of the times is that I had a different 'stylist' than I've seen before. Not sure if 'stylist' is the right term for what my head of thinning hair really needs. I'm more the 'do the best you can with what I've got' kind of guy and I'm the first to admit there's not as much to work with up there as there once was.

Growing up it seemed like the Marine haircut was the in thing. Now, when I was five or six I had no aspirations to be a Marine though I did like G.I. Joe. Regardless, I'd end up with hair so short you'd need a micrometer to measure it, which as I understand is exactly what they do in the military. Only problem was this was the 60's and long hair (thank you Beatles) was becoming a thang so me walking around like a dwarf recruiting poster didn't enamore me in the eyes of the hip and cool hippies of the day. I tried to make up for it and fit in by wearing stylish bell bottom trousers which worked pretty well except I kept tripping. 

My 'stylist' today was in a talkative mood and for once so was I. Turns out we both have dogs so the thirty seconds it took for my 'above the ears and above the collar' trim flew by. 

I mentioned the passage of time... Ain't none of us getting any younger, that's for sure. How do I know this? Well, I part my hair, what's left, to the left but my 'stylist' had other ideas and insisted on combing the few remaining strands to the right. And we all know how uncomfortable it is to force hair where it does not want to go. So we compromised and I ended up with what looks like a small (very small) mohawk brushed straight ahead. At least I can tell which way the wind blows. Maybe next time I'll remind my 'stylist' of the "to the left" but by the next one of my semiannual visits there may not be anything left to comb. 

So there you are. The hourglass of time passes nowhere more quickly than in a barber (is that even still a thing?) chair. On the bright side, the hair's thinning fast enough that there may soon come a time when I no longer need to answer: "Did you check in online?"  

Is a new (E)Bike in your future?

Usually I get to view major societal shifts only from afar and normally from the comfort of my couch as I watch the evening news. Over the last couple of years one of those shifts has been hitting ( literally, as you'll see) closer to home. 

Downtown Denver, which I only visit occasionally anymore, has already gone through the phenomenon of electric scooters and to a somewhat  smaller degree BikeShare programs. With the scooters its to the point that regular pedestrians actually making the effort to perambulate under their own power are advised to keep their heads up lest they be run over as folks whiz by on equipment provided as part of Denver's "Micromobility Program" through two vendors - Lyft and Lime. Granted, the website for the program has wonderful 'guidelines' on how said scooters and ebikes should be used which I doubt anyone reads and fewer follow (anybody out there seeing scooters NOT exceeding "6 miles per hour"?). With a cap of 2,930 scooters allowed per company you now see scooters almost everywhere and often discarded on trails and in parks and wherever else the battery decides to give up the ghost. The website has info on how to report 'incorrectly' parked scooters and ebikes (ebikes are capped at no more than 600 per company) but as with the old adage that 'no good deed goes unpunished' it places the onus of reporting these miscreant scooters (and e-bikes) on the good-deed-doer through a tedious five step process and then completing an online form. If any of this sounds like bureaucracy, albeit well intentioned, run amuck then you'll understand why in a nutshell I live in suburbia.

As an avid cyclist I frequent bike trails, bike routes, and bike lanes as they meander across the Denver area. Ebikes have been growing in numbers over the years and can be seen anywhere a regular bike is allowed and, increasingly, even in places where 'motorized vehicles' are specifically excluded. For Denver residents you only need to think of Waterton Canyon on the south side of the metro area. In another example of bureaucracy, albeit well intentioned, run amuck, ebikes are technically not allowed on the Canyon's road with the EXCEPTION that:

"Class 1 and 2 e-bikes used as part of an ADA accommodation in Waterton Canyon are permitted on Denver Water’s portion of the path, depending on the size, weight and speed of the device, so long as it wouldn’t cause a safety risk because of crowds or trail conditions (e.g. on a busy day) and so long as the requestor can provide credible assurance that they require an accommodation (emphasis added) to access the facility."

And yes, there is a formal, and required process to gain permission: 

"...those seeking ADA accommodations in Waterton Canyon can contact our Recreation team at recreation@denverwater.org. You will need to be able to provide credible assurance that you require an accommodation to access the facility before arriving." 

I doubt that many, if any of the ebikes one now encounters up the canyon and even farther on the Colorado Trail have bothered to show their need for real accomodation. As the saying goes: easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission.

To say that local and State governments are struggling on how to manage the growth (and yes, regulation) of scooters and ebikes is an understatement. And in Colorado its about to get much more difficult as the State has announced its ebike rebate program that will give rebates up to $1,400 toward the purchase of 1,000 ebikes every month (emphasis added) starting this month (August). 

I'm admittedly ambivalent about the whole concept of ebikes. For those who are differently abled I think they are a great addition that allows greater access to the outdoors. My first introduction to an ebike was on the Mickelson Trail more than ten years ago when my wife and I were biking up a long grade on our way from Edgemont to Deadwood, South Dakota on one of the premier rails-to-trails routes in the country. Suddenly we heard "On your left!" and saw a blur go flying by. I silently cursed to myself wondering how a motorcycle got on the trail. When we caught up to the husband and wife 'blur' that had whizzed by us we were introduced to not a motorcycle but a motorized (electric) bicycle - our first ebike. The couple explained that, due to health issues, they could no longer pedal regular bikes and needed the electric assist to get them up and over the hills. 

More recently, in fact just last month my wife met another ebike in a far more intimate way. As in CRASH. We were riding one of our favorite trails in the mountains ( the Mineral Belt in Leadville, Colorado) and, as seems to be our wont, were pedaling up the long climb from the parking lot to the trail's high point. There is a section where the trail crosses Land Fill Road (far prettier than the name implies) where you have to watch for vehicles before crossing the road. As we were pedaling up toward the intersection a group of cyclists came whizzing down the trail, across the intersection, and the third of the four cyclists slammed into my wife. What turned out to be an ebiker, a young lady in her sixties, had turned her head to warn her companion behind her that a car was indeed approaching the intersection and to be careful. That turn of the head was a rookie mistake that every cyclist, and apparently e-cyclist (ebiker?) has made - when you turn your head on a bicycle the handlebars tend to turn in the same direction, thus swerving the lady's ebike smack into my wife. 

The impact swept both my wife and the ebiker off the side of the trail with my wife taking the brunt of the impact as they hit the rocky ground. My wife's helmet barely missed a watermelon-sized rock. As the ebiker disentangled herself and lifted her ebike up my wife lay stunned (for all we knew, unconscious) flat on her back with her mountain bike still on top of her. Two of the party of cyclists were retired Doctors (one an ER and the other a Primary Care doc) so we were able to provide quick and responsive care. Fortunately my wife was not injured to the point of needing an ambulance (though later x-rays and a visit to our own doctor revealed the full extent of injuries) so my wife and I were inclined to treat the incident as a typical bike on bike encounter. The lady who had hit my wife was very apologetic and took full responsibility saying she had not even seen my wife before crashing into her. She offered to pay for any bike repairs to my wife's bike. By this time my wife was able to stand and while scraped and bruised didn't think she had been too severely injured and thought she'd be able to get back to our car under her own power. The lady who hit my wife was unscathed as she had landed on my wife rather than on the rocky ground. So, thinking all was well, we went our separate ways.

What's the difference between being hit by a regular bicycle and an ebike you ask? Lets start with weight. The average weight of a standard modern road bike is about 18-20 pounds. Interestingly, for racing bikes the UCI, which governs professional bike racing, requires racing bikes must be a minimum of at least 14.99 pounds which means bike manufacturers actually have to engineer extra weight into their designs as they could produce bikes lighter than this. According to one manufacturer's site the average weight of an e-bike is on average somewhere between 52 to 55 pounds. The difference primarily comes from the weight of the battery and electric motor as well as a beefier, and heavier, frame to accommodate the extra weight. Hearken back to your High School physics class: Momentum equals Mass (weight) times Velocity.

Then there's the motorized aspect. The ebike rider not only has the momentum produced by their own power but also assisted through the electric motor. There are three primary classes of e-bikes (Class 1, 2, and 3) with class 3 ebikes capable of reaching 28 mph before the electric motor stops providing assistance. Its no wonder the couple in the Black Hills were able to fly by us going uphill. 

There's also what I call the novice component to riding an ebike. Granted, some experienced cyclists make the switch from a traditional bike to an ebike but I'd hazard a guess that a fair number of current and future ebike owners are folks who wouldn't be caught dead riding a regular bicycle. Because of this unfamiliarity with cycling they don't necessarily have the learned skills to safely handle a 50 pound bike cruising at 20 plus miles an hour. Even though I ride several thousand miles every year on everything from road to gravel to mountain bikes it would give me pause before I hopped on an ebike and set out merrily on one of my local trails. The lady who hit my wife was honest enough to acknowledge that her ebike was brand new and she was on only her second ride with it. 

My wife's visit to her own doctor uncovered no broken bones although he suspected major internal bruising to the ribs and sternum (the ebike's handlebars directly impacted my wife's sternum). My wife's right ankle was also severely bruised and though extremely sore she could bear weight on it. Bike riding, at least for a couple of weeks, would be out as my wife could not comfortably hold her own handlebars due to the pain in her chest. 

Now, all of this is not an argument against ebikes. It is however a cautionary tale about what the future is likely to hold for all users of multiuse trails and paths and roadways. And it unfortunately raises the question of regulation. My wife's doctor, who has seen a dramatic increase in the number of ebike-related injuries he's treating asked her if we had filed a police accident report. When she said no, he chided her and reminded her that she had been involved in a motor vehicle accident. Would she have reported being hit by a car? A Motorcycle? "Of course" she replied. What was the difference in this instance he queried? Upon further reflection, she had no answer. Quoted in a recent Wall Street Journal article, Kenny Fischer, co-founder of Denver-based FattE-Bikes, tells people its "...not a heavy bike. its a light electric vehicle."

Folks may wrongly assume that bicycles and e-bikes are two sides of the same coin when it comes to safety. Not so according to statistics slowly starting to reveal the contrast. A June 2023 article in Fortune magazine highlighted some of the newest data. While the U.S.'s NTSB (National Transportation Safety Board highlights the “lack of complete, consistent and reliable data” that likely leads to vast underestimations of the actual statistics, their report noted that “fatalities associated with e-bike ridership have also increased exponentially.” And in other countries that have a longer and deeper history with power-assisted bikes better data is emerging. In the bicycling-crazy Netherlands a Dutch study found that e-bike riders were 1.6 times more likely to wind up in the emergency department than riders of regular bikes. What does that mean for the U.S.? Consider that in 2021 608,000 electric cars and trucks were sold in the U.S. By comparison, more than 880,000 e-bikes were purchased. In Europe that year more than 5 million were sold. In the North American market e-bike sales in 2023 are expected to near 1.76 billion dollars; by 2028 that number is forecast to top $4 billion. . 

So one way or another ebikes are in my, and your future. My wife may never own an ebike but she's already literally felt their impact. There's a local law firm who advertises itself  as 'the cyclist's advocate'. I suspect they have no idea how much future business they may see not just defending cyclists who have been hit by vehicles but also going after ebikers who have caused injuries and damage to those around them. 

Will there come a day:

• when ebikes outnumber 'regular' cyclists?
• when people recognize that e-bikes are not the same as traditional bikes and should not be treated as if they were
• when ebikes are allowed everywhere, even where non-motorized vehicles are currently prohibited?
• when 'drivers ed' classes are required for ebikers just as they are for motorcyclists and other motorists?
• when ebikes need to be registered as the motor vehicles they are?
• when ebikers (like other motorized vehicle users) are required to provide proof of insurance when involved in an accident?
• when a police report should be filed anytime an ebike is involved in an accident? (if we had to do it again, this would have happened)
• when ebikes continue to become more powerful further blurring the line between ebike, moped, and motorcycle? (Even Harley Davidson is now offering an electric motorcycle...)
• when I feel like a chump for sweating and grinding my way up a steep incline under the blazing sun while the person to my left cruises by with no real effort at all? Wait... that day is already here....

Oh for the love of... Part two

Meet Misty.

Misty

We know we can't even begin to 'replace' Yukon who we lost two weeks ago but our surviving pet, Mr. Bentley, needs a companion and everyone from vets to friends tells us we have a relatively short window to introduce a new dog into our pack. Mr. Bentley is now ten years old and though in good health we can see the loss of Yukon has hit him just as hard as it did my wife and I. Years ago when we lost our first Husky, Tundra, the surviving one, Chinook, did the same thing as Mr. Bentley is doing now. I call it ghosting. Literally in just two weeks his coat has become noticeably more grey. Ten year old Huskies are normally starting to grey as they age and Mr. Bentley was no exception but he's now a shade lighter than just weeks ago. 

So even though we are still grieving for Yukon, we set about searching for a new pet. The decision would ultimately rest upon Mr. Bentley's approval, as it did ten years ago when we introduced him to Yukon. Chinook and Tundra, our first pair of Huskies, had been rescued through Polaris Husky Rescue in Fort Collins (Polaris seems now to have been absorbed by North Star Siberian Husky Rescue who's website seems not to be maintained or active any longer...) and our second pair, Mr. Bentley and Yukon, had also come to our home through a Husky Rescue so we knew we would be looking through either a Rescue or animal shelter for our next pet. 

Since this decision was primarily about getting Mr. Bentley a companion (Huskies seem to generally do better with another dog to play with and keep them out of trouble!), being able to introduce them in person (in dog?) was critical. Sadly, in my opinion, 'shopping' for a new pet through a rescue seems to have gone the way of all things retail - look online, find what you want, order and it will be delivered. Granted, with the rescues we contacted there is still some vetting of the new owner including reference checks to ensure a good forever home but the in person (in dog?) introduction of the actual dogs seems to have gone by the post-pandemic wayside. 

We also perused the online offerings of the local animal shelters. Pet owners will not be surprised by the massive numbers of dogs and cats ( and hamsters, chickens, rabbits etc.) in animal shelters needing homes which in my mind begs the question of why there are still so many puppy mills and (some) unscrupulous breeders churning out more pets in an already saturated market but suffice it to say there was no way we were going to add to the coffers of businesses (and yes, they are businesses) who's primary concern is turning a dollar.

Ultimately we settled on Foothills Animal Shelter as it is in our neck of the woods (one of the rescues we considered was in Oklahoma and had more than 200 huskies available - and yes, we would have made the trip for the right doggie). We had never been to Foothills Animal Shelter (FAS), though it has been around since 1976, so didn't really know what to expect. Located right off of West 6th Avenue in Golden, Colorado, FAS focuses on several communities from Golden, Wheatridge, and Westminster to Arvada, Lakewood, and Edgewater as well as the greater Jefferson County area. While not technically a no-kill facility FAS does have an impressive record of placing/reuniting pets. In 2022 FAS sheltered 8,978 pets which was up 21% from 2021. 6,033 pets were adopted (up 14%) and 2,022 pets (up 20%) were reunited with their owners. I'm getting these statistics from the FAS 2022 Annual Report which I'm sure most pet owners never look at as they're focused on the micro level of adopting or finding their lost pet. 

I'm all in favor of no-kill shelters but am pragmatic enough to realize that we don't live in a perfect world (which is news to absolutely no one) but I wanted to see how hard FAS was striving to avoid euthanizing animals. There's a somewhat cold sounding statistic called the "Live Release Rate" and Foothills number is 93%. Kudos to Foothills for at least making this number readily visible in their annual report as I could not easily find it for other local municipal shelters. Is 93% a good or bad number? Hard to say, but according to the National Database of Shelter Animal Count:

               data shows that not only are more dogs entering shelters than are leaving, the non-live outcome rate for dogs has nearly doubled (from 5.6% to 10%) when comparing Q1 2021 to Q1 2023. This means nearly twice as many dogs did not leave shelters alive during the first three months of 2023 compared to the same period in 2021.

Another plus in favor of FAS was that they do allow in person (in dog?) meetings between current and potential adoptive pets. Mr. Bentley met with two Huskies up for adoption and he (as well as my wife and I) all agreed that Misty (her shelter name was Jesse, but had only been given that name several weeks prior) was the right fit for us. She is our first female dog and I joke that Mr. Bentley and I are now definitely outnumbered gender-wise but heck, that was already the case when it was Mr. Bentley, Yukon and I as I can confirm that happy spouse does indeed make for a happy house. 

Misty is purportedly 8 years young though she is exhibiting more puppy-like traits than her age would suggest. She is clearly not ready for her canine AARP card. She was picked up in Westminster as a stray and had no collar or microchip and apparently no doggie owners came looking for her. And yes, she is spayed and will not be adding to the out of control pet population. Thankfully she is housebroken and has a gentle and loving personality. Already our hearts are opening to this new bundle of fur. As for Mr. Bentley, he seems accepting of his new canine companion though he is still getting used to her antics. They tell us it will take about a month or so but we're cautiously optimistic as we welcome Misty to her new forever home...

Misty and Mr. Bentley getting acquainted

Oh, for the love of...

Oh, for the love of... Dog. 

The trip down from the mountains was a little speedier than normal. In retirement I've admittedly become one of those dreaded drivers who actually approximates the speed limit. Not that I sit in the left lane pegging the 55 or 65 mph  while watching a line of traffic build up behind me, but I enjoy driving, which is, at least in Colorado not the same thing as enjoying driving FAST. The advantage of retirement is not being under a continual time crunch to be somewhere, ANYWHERE, other than where I actually AM so I have the luxury of being able to enjoy the drive without constantly checking my watch.

Not so last Thursday. Don't think I've ever driven the route from Leadville to Denver as fast as I did that afternoon. With apologies to all the cars and trucks I passed at an exorbitant speed I had SOMEWHERE to be and the normal two hour timeframe for getting there wasn't going to cut it. Amazingly, at least to me, is that as fast as I was going (80 mph at times) other drivers were still routinely passing me. I-70 - Mountain NASCAR - lived up to its reputation.

That SOMEWHERE I was in such a hurry to reach is generally referred to with two simple letters: E and R though on this trip the patient had paws instead of feet. My wife and I had come back from a bike ride to find Yukon, one of our two Siberian Huskies, standing in his kennel, head drooping, looking like he had had a stroke. He was wheezing and having difficulty breathing and we knew immediately something was seriously wrong. There are Vets and a Pet ER in Leadville but we made the decision to rush him down to the vets he normally sees at VRCC in Denver. 

Halfway to Denver Yukon lost control of all his bodily functions. By the time we reached the ER in Englewood they had to lift him onto the gurney. The prognosis was grim. What had been a healthy and exuberant bundle of fur that morning was at death's door suffering from aspiration pneumonia. He had a temperature of 106 degrees, organ failure, and his blood test results did not bode well for recovery. In consultation with the vet and praying that we were doing the right thing, we made the heart-wrenching decision to put our beloved Yukon to sleep. 

I clearly understand that in a world where people are dying needlessly in the hundreds, thousands, and millions from everything from war, famine, mass shootings and gun violence to pandemic, addiction and drunk driving some might question the appropriateness of mourning the passing of an animal when so many of my own kind are leaving life behind. For me it does not need to be an either-or; I can, and do, mourn for both. But candidly, though I've had the delight of canine companionship through all of my life, losing my Yukon has hit especially hard. As I told the vet, this - the decision to pit your pet down - doesn't get any easier though I've now felt the life leave from more pets as I've held them than I care to think about.

For dog lovers, every wet nose and wagging tail is special and unique. Every happy yip and bark brings joy. Joy... a feeling of great pleasure and happiness. Yukon brought so much of it into our lives that I fear the emptiness left behind will never quite be filled. 

Yukon's introduction to Life was not gentle. He was born to a backyard breeder who for whatever reason couldn't place (sell) or simply didn't want this weeks-old ball of fur born with one brown and one blue eye and a brown tinge to his coat and decided to throw him out on the streets of, of all places, Wichita, Kansas to fend for himself. By the time he was rescued he was severely malnourished and underweight and you couldn't blame him for being afraid and skittish around people. But that wasn't Yukon. Despite the cruelty meted out to him as he entered this world, he loved people. Just this 4th of July we were at the holiday parade in Leadville and Yukon reveled in the attention from kids and adults alike as they stopped to pet him and they in turn experienced, if but for a moment, some of the boundless love this dog had to give.

Love is a word that perhaps gets overused. Love between humans is often complicated. Who truly knows what is in another's heart? Love also can be fleeting, you need only look at the divorce statistics to see that people fall in and out of love all the time. There is a purity of Love given by a pet that I have yet to experience with those of my own kind and if I grieve for my Yukon that grief is because that type of Love is so rarely found and I will desperately miss it. If the Love in Yukon's now-still heart could only be forever shared this World would be a better place. 

I often looked into Yukon's eyes and hoped he knew he was loved as much in return by my wife and I. Every breed is special in its own way but if you've ever gazed into the eyes of a Siberian Husky and tried to fathom what you see then your heart and soul has swelled in wonder of what those depths have to share. Dogs are long since removed from their wild forbears but in the one blue and one brown eye of Yukon I could get a glimpse of a world sadly long lost to mankind. They say that not all who wander are lost; in Yukon's gaze I felt at peace, at home, and free to roam.

When we rescued Yukon his name was Blade, a moniker we never felt remotely fit him. Why we settled on the name Yukon is pure serendipity but it was foretelling. Yukon would get to visit his namesake and it was as if he was going home. I'm not overly religious but if there is a Heaven I hope, Yukon, it looks and smells and sounds like the great, wild Northcountry you got to experience in your youth.

Apologies to those who are not pet people for waxing on about the loss of my Yukon. Perhaps if you had ever met and seen him light up with happiness to greet you or been slapped by a tail wagging in pure bliss as you petted his head, you could indulge me in sharing, just for a moment, the love shared between a very, very special dog and one oh so ordinary human being. Yukon - from my still beating but now inconsolable heart, Thank You. May the ground beneath your paws be forever padded in pine needles.