Jacki Skole's Blog, page 2

Coming soon: The House that Emily Built

October is Domestic Violence month. To raise awareness of this very important issue and of the powerful role pets play in the lives of many victims, I will be posting a story I began reporting a couple of years ago. It didn’t find the literary home I was hoping for, but I believe it’s too important a story to languish on the hard drive of my computer.

The full piece will be posted later this week. Here’s a preview…

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It would be her word against Johnny’s*.

Again.

Still, Deborah* dialed 9-1-1. She feared what Johnny might do next. He’d already burst into their bedroom screaming. He’d already grabbed her by the feet and dragged her off the bed paying no mind to her right leg, still in a cast a month after what she called “the stomping.” He’d snatched her cell phone and shattered it. And she was sure he’d put Patton outside. Otherwise, the ninety-pound foxhound would certainly have barged into the bedroom and gotten up in Johnny’s face, barking, backing him away from her, as Patton typically did when Johnny got aggressive.

At least she’d hidden her stepfather’s old cell phone in a kitchen drawer.

Now, as Johnny spoke with the two responding officers, Deborah sat on the porch of his Butts County, Georgia home. It was July 11, 2014, just before midnight. I’ve got to get out of here, she told herself. The statement had become a mantra, intoned more urgently after each fight. But Deborah wasn’t where she needed to be financially. Despite squirreling away money for months, the thirty-nine-year-old hadn’t saved nearly enough for a place of her own—a place she, her daughter, her stepfather, and their three dogs could call home.

Deborah absently stroked the tiny Chihuahua curled in her lap. At least, she thought, she wouldn’t be heading to jail like Johnny. The officers arrested him on charges of disorderly conduct. They issued Deborah a warning. The sergeant told her he didn’t want to risk further injury to her leg by taking her into custody. Deborah watched as the sergeant led Johnny, now in handcuffs, to a waiting patrol car. Of course, Johnny would be back the following day, and with her stepfather and daughter out of town, Deborah would have to face him alone.

It was still hard for Deborah to reconcile the Johnny she’d met at church with the man she now lived with. Johnny’s generosity and zeal for helping others had endeared him to her and earned him her pastor’s seal of approval. And then there was Johnny’s goofy side, which made him so unlike other rodeo cowboys she knew — “hard, macho” guys, like her ex-husband. Maybe, she’d told herself, cowboys were different in Johnny’s native Oklahoma than they were here in Georgia.

As the patrol car began to snake its way down the long driveway leading out to the main road, Sheriff’s Deputy James Sanders walked over to Deborah. This was the officer’s third dispatch to the secluded lakeside house in the past month. He’d seen enough to know that the slender blonde sitting before him was in trouble. Sanders handed Deborah a green and white pamphlet with a list of county agencies and urged her to call the local domestic violence shelter. “If you don’t leave,” Sanders said, “he’s going to kill you.”

Deborah looked at Sanders. “I can’t leave,” she said. “What about my dogs?”

Patton, the foxhound; Lucy, the Chihuahua; and Scarlet, a Chow—were family, Deborah told Sanders. They were why she hadn’t already left the lake house. They were why she was saving for a place of her own. They were why she had no choice but to stay—even if staying meant risking her life.

to be continued…

*Last names have been dropped to protect privacy.

Rising: Dispatches from the New American Shore

As rivers crest and floodwaters recede following Hurricane Florence’s deadly dance through the Carolinas, residents are beginning to take stock of what’s left of their communities, their neighborhoods, their homes. They will hope that Florence is the last of the Atlantic season’s hurricanes, but the season doesn’t end until November, and weather experts warn there are more storms to come; one or two may even become hurricanes. That’s worrisome news for those living along the East and Gulf Coasts.

Of course, if we make it past this year’s hurricane season unscathed by another monster storm, we still face next season and the seasons after that. And experts tell us the coming storms will likely be more powerful and more destructive. If you want to understand why, the New York Times provides some answers in a story with the sobering headline: Humans are Making Hurricanes Worse. Here’s How.

If you want to understand the dramatic impact that these storms–along with rising sea levels and other by-products of climate change–are having on coastal communities, pick up journalist Elizabeth Rush’s new book, Rising: Dispatches from the New American Shore. In it, Rush reveals how lives, livelihoods, and entire ecosystems are undergoing irrevocable changes that are destined to leave many of these communities uninhabitable. Rush, who writes prose that verges on poetry, has a keen eye for detail and a wellspring of empathy for the people whose worlds are in danger of being washed away. (My full review is at EcoLit Books.)

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The photo above comes from an ABC News video of dogs being rescued from a flooded neighborhood in Jacksonville, North Carolina.

Book Review: American Wolf

When I’m in public with Galen, I often hear parents say one of two things to their children. The first: Look at that old dog. To which I think: Nope. Not old. Gray since birth. The second thing parents say is: Look at that dog. He looks like a wolf. To which I think: He is a she. And she sure does. Sort of.

I’ve been looking at photographs of wolves recently. Not just any wolves, but those whose stories are recounted in Nate Blakeslee’s riveting book, American Wolf: A True Story of Survival and Obsession in the West. The pictures were taken by wildlife photographer Jimmy Jones.

One take away after looking at the images: wolves are magnificent, regal creatures.  Another: Galen might be able to pass for a wolf thanks to her coloring, but her floppy ears make her all dog.

A dog in wolf’s clothes?

You will find my review of American Wolf at EcoLit Books.

Take Two: Grab a tissue… or two, or three

A news story recently caught my attention. It was about a dog, in Brazil, who has been sitting outside a Sao Paolo hospital for some four months. You probably know where this story is going.

The dog’s owner–a homeless man–died at the hospital in October. The dog, it seems, chased the ambulance to the hospital, and he’s been waiting there for his owner ever since. Hospital employees have given the dog–a mutt–a blanket, and food and water. They even found him a home at a local kennel, but the dog escaped and returned to the hospital.

Amazing. But not unbelievable.

You see, the story reminded me of a post I wrote more than five years ago, back when I blogged at she’s a dork. I dug it up and pasted it below:

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You’ve probably seen the heartrending photo of a Labrador retriever lying in front of his owner’s flag-draped casket. If not, here it is:

The dog is Hawkeye; his owner, a Navy SEAL, was killed in Afghanistan in August 2011, when a rocket-propelled grenade hit his Chinook helicopter. The photo – and the story – went viral as an iconic depiction of the profound bond between people and their pets.

Now comes Tommy, a seven-year-old German shepherd in San Donaci, Italy, who has been attending mass for the last two months at the church where his owner’s funeral was held and where, before she died, they attended mass together daily.

Tommy in Santa Maria Assunta church

You can read the full story here.

But so far as I know, only one dog has been memorialized in bronze for his exceptional loyalty.

In 1924, Hidesaburo Ueno, a professor at Tokyo Imperial University adopted an Akita he named Hachiko. Each morning, dog and owner would walk to Shibuya Station, where Ueno would catch a train to the university.

Each evening, Hachiko would return to the station to welcome the professor home. But on May 21, 1925, Ueno didn’t return; he’d died after suffering a stroke during a faculty meeting. From that night on, for nearly ten years, Hachiko returned to the station at precisely the time Ueno’s train was due to arrive.

A newspaper story about the loyal Akita lured people from all over Japan to visit him. In 1934, a bronze statue of Hachiko was erected in front of the station’s ticket gate with the dog on hand for its unveiling. During World War II, the Japanese melted the statue to use its bronze for the war effort, but in 1948, the original sculptor’s son created a replica, which still stands today. The statue is said to be one of the most popular meeting places in all of Tokyo.

Hachiko’s statue

Hollywood knows a good story when it hears one, and Hachiko’s was too good to pass up. Thus:  Hachi: A Dog’s Tale, A True Story of Faith, Devotion and Undying Love hit U.S. theaters in 2009. The story is true only in the Hollywood sense; produced for an American audience, it is set in a quaint New England town, and the professor is played by a very handsome Richard Gere. Joan Allen is Gere’s wife, and Jason Alexander is Carl, the train station attendant. My family rented the movie a couple of years ago and cuddled on the couch to watch it, without any notion of its Japanese roots.

Reading about Tommy started me thinking about Hachi, the movie, and then Hachiko, the dog. And then I thought about my dogs. For me, Galen is more than a companion or a best friend – she is a deeply loved member of my family, as was Gryffin before her. I’m not alone in my thinking. A 2011 Harris poll found 92% of dog owners considered their pooch part of their family.

Back to Hachi:  The movie is definitely worth watching.  Just be sure to grab a tissue… or two, or three.

Actually, grab a whole box. If you’re anything like me, you’ll need it!

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I can still see my first dog. For six years he met me at the same place after school and convoyed me home—a service he thought up himself. A boy doesn’t forget that sort of association.

– E.B. White, author of Charlotte’s Web and Trumpet of the Swan

DOGLAND turns 2! Win a signed copy.

In 2012, I decided I was going to write a book. The idea was a mix of hubris, crazy, and a whole lot of naiveté. I had never before written for any kind of print publication–my  background was in TV news. Nor did I know anything about the world of publishing, beyond the not-very-helpful concept of subsidiary rights, which I learned during a stint as a summer intern at Simon & Schuster (gulp!) nearly three decades ago.

Yet, now it’s July 2017, and DOGLAND turns two. The feedback I’ve received from people inside and outside the animal welfare community has been remarkable. As a writer, you brace for the criticism your work will inevitably engender and embrace any accolades that come your way. I am fortunate. Accolades have outnumbered criticisms.

People have asked if there is another book in the works. The answer: Not right now. Will there ever be? I don’t know. I am no longer naive to the world of publishing. I need to find the right topic to believe that lightning might actually strike twice.

So for now I celebrate DOGLAND’s turning two. If you haven’t read the book, head over to Goodreads to enter the DOGLAND Give-away. You have through August 25 to enter to win. And if you’ve yet to spread the word about the book, please do so. There’s no better publicity than word-of-mouth.

ENTER TO WIN at Goodreads.com.

 

 

New Releases

If you felt like your life was breaking apart, where would you go to try to put it back together?

If you’re thirty-year-old Cooper Gosling, you’d go to the South Pole. For a year. Seriously.

Gosling is the central character in Ashley Shelby’s debut novel, South Pole Station, a wry, compelling story of relationships, art, science, climate change, and life at the bottom of the earth.

You can read my full review at EcoLit Books.

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In dog news, Megan Leavey hits theaters July 9. The film is the true story of a Marine colonel and her military combat dog, a handsome and vicious German shepherd named Rex. The reviews I read are mostly good, with the strongest coming from Peter Travers in Rolling Stone. One commonality among the reviews: Tissues are a must.

You sort of get that idea from the trailer.

Snowflakes in a Blizzard

Technology, as everyone knows, is forcing all sorts of industries to adapt to new realities. The book publishing industry is no exception.

From the advent of online book-sellers to e-readers to print-on-demand, it’s never been easier—or cheaper—to buy books. And there are a lot of books to buy. With the rise of self-publishing, anyone with a story can tell it. That, of course, is good. But as Darrell Laurant writes on his blog, all those books are “bad news for individual writers, because the chance that someone will randomly pick up or click on a particular book has decreased exponentially.”

A couple of years ago, Laurant, a former journalist and author, created a blog he hoped would connect readers with authors whose books don’t typically get the publicity accorded those published by the likes of Simon & Schuster, Penguin, or Harper Collins. “I find most of the books that interest me by going to the websites of small publishers,” Laurant told me. That’s how he found DOGLAND—he was perusing the offerings of my publishing company, Ashland Creek Press, a boutique press out of Oregon that publishes works whose themes emphasize environmental protection and animal welfare. Curiosity piqued, Laurant emailed me and asked if he could feature DOGLAND on his blog.

One of the things I love most about the blog is its name: Snowflakes in a Blizzard. “I chose the name,” Laurant writes, “because getting noticed for a writer in this market—especially a new, unknown writer—is like a snowflake trying to stand out in a blizzard.” Amen!

There’s no way to know how many people buy the books Laurant features, but he has more than thirty-two-hundred followers, so he must have a pretty good record of featuring books worth reading. So I urge you to check out Laurant’s blog and to spend some time sifting through snowflakes. You may find one that piques your interest.

New signing, new book review, and new stats

Save the Date! I will be participating in the Princeton Public Library‘s Local Author Day on Saturday, March 25 from 1:00-4:00 p.m. I’ll be joined by some forty authors from the New Jersey/Pennsylvania area. So please, stop by, meet authors, buy fabulous books.

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For dog lovers who love fiction, check out my review of Neil Abramson’s Just Life at EcoLit books. Abramson–an attorney by day, novelist by night–has written a page-turner of a book grounded in suspense, ethical ambiguity, and the human-canine bond.

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Euthanasia in America’s animal shelters is on the decline. That’s according to Shelter Animals Count, a five-year-old non-profit created to do what no national humane organization had done: build and maintain a national database of sheltered animals.

According to SAC, some 5,500 dogs and cats are euthanized in the United States each day. That’s two million a year. Certainly that’s way too many, but it’s better than where we were just a few years ago when Best Friends Animal Society, an SAC founding member, estimated four million dogs and cats were killed annually. And it’s a far cry from where we were in the 1970s, when shelter killings stood at 17 million.

The good news: The trend is moving in the right direction. The challenge: We need to get it moving faster.

A Georgia shelter dog tries to get a passerby’s attention.

A tug-at-your-heart kind of essay

Growing old isn’t easy. Not that I consider myself old. I’ll soon be pushing fifty, but these days I think fifty may be the new thirty. Still, there’s some fleeting knee pain here, random wrist pain there. Mentally, there are the black holes that swallow words I’m searching for, leaving me to wonder whether I’m on a hormonal roller coaster toward menopause or I’m coasting toward dementia. But what might be even harder than growing old myself is watching Galen grow old. I didn’t have that opportunity with Gryffin. Sometimes I think that may have been for the better; sometimes I don’t.

Growing old is, in a sense, what Call My Name is all about. Posted on the fabulous blog, Full Grown People, it’s a beautiful, tug-at-your-heart, wipe-away-a-tear kind of essay about a Lab named Remi, the author, and the passage of time. (For those of you who can’t bear to read about dogs and death, no worries. I’m not giving anything away by telling you that Remi doesn’t die. Still, you might want to grab a tissue.)

I read Call My Name this morning and highly recommend it. You can read the essay . I also re-read Father Time, a post I wrote after meeting Gryffin’s brother in Israel, an encounter that took place a couple of years after Gryffin passed. You can read that here.

Gryffin

 

Book Review: Being a Dog

Dogs can sniff out some pretty incredible things—explosives, drugs, cancer, criminals—the list continues to grow, bounded only, says cognitive scientist Alexandra Horowitz, by human imagination.

In her newest exploration of doghood, Being a Dog: Following the Dog into the World of Smell, Horowitz explores why the dogs’ olfactory system so surpasses our own and how scientists are teaching dogs to use it to accomplish remarkable and life-saving feats. Horowitz also throws out a challenge to readers–and it’s one she’s undertaking herself. She wants readers to think about how they engage their own sense of smell–hint: Horowitz says over millenia humans have “unlearned how to smell”–and to start sniffing again. Dogs, she says, can teach us how.

You can read my full review of Being a Dog: Following the Dog into the World of Smell at EcoLit Books.