To the Friends of Man's Best Friend

Over the last month or so, we have been hearing more and more information coming to light concerning the investigation of dogfighting allegations in a Virginia home owned by Atlanta Falcons' Quarterback Michael Vick and any involvement he may or may not have.

Big Daddy Graham, a comedian and host of his own night owl show on 610 WIP Sportstalk radio, sums it up best when describing the nonchalant-like attitude of Mike Vick, his supporters and people involved with the case. The most important reason that this investigation has picked up steam from people across America is because we all love dogs! Plain and simple. Man's best friend and best friend for a reason. There are not a lot of people that don't love dogs and the reason why anybody wouldn't like a dog is because they are scared of them, giving more weight to the issue at hand.

My own love for dogs is evident by those who know me. My family owns two papillons, Sammy and Boomer, and have had these dogs for years. If you are unsure of what a papillion is, watch the movie Gremlins and look at little Gizmo's face (or check out the pictures with today's article). Large ears, colorful fur and easy to fall in love with. We have had Sammy and Boomer for almost nine years and it really feels like we just welcomed them yesterday.

Unfortunately, Sammy and Boomer were not our first dogs. I say unfortunately just because of the story I am going to tell you. I warn you, it isn't the easiest of tales to tell and gets very, very, very bad toward the end. Even though it happened so long ago, I still get caught up when we reminisce about it.

Years and years and years ago (seriously, it was a while ago), my Mom took me and my brother to the pound to pick up a dog. The dog belonged some friends of hers and their son went into the hospital and could no longer care for it. We never had a dog before, but Mom was willing to do so to help out her friends. Her name was Trixie and she was an old Cairn Terrier and apparently on her last limbs, so to speak. We were told at the time that she probably wouldn't live any longer than a few months and they preferred that they just put her down then and now. My mom wasn't having it and we brought Trixie home with us.

Trixie wasn't playful for obvious reasons but she was a great companion. Everyone found her to be a pretty little dog, similar looking to Toto in the Wizard of Oz but a little bigger and not as loud. Trixie never barked a day in her life until she was outside in our yard. She usually just ran around the property and exploring the world before her and the first time she barked, she actually scared herself and jumped back a bit. Odd to say, but Trixie was fearless. The one lasting memory that everyone loves to bring up is the time when Dad was cutting her hair and actually cut her face with the scissors. And Trixie never flinched or cried or anything. She was fine though but Dad felt so bad afterward (and he probably hasn't been allowed near scissors since).

Then one day in April, Mom, my brother Bryan and I all found ourselves at the Neshaminy Mall shopping for God knows what. We ended up in this pet store called Kritters and just wanted to look at the new kittens and puppies. There was one dog going crazy for our attention, so the staff asked us if we wanted to take him into a little play room. This dog went crazy, playing with toys and crowding all around us for our affection. We all fell in love but we couldn't stick around so we left him behind. The car ride home was anything but civil. We all were gushing about about how adorable he was and Bryan already named him Max. Mom doubted Dad would go for the idea of another dog. After long discussion, the idea of another puppy coming into the house for the kids wasn't such a bad one especially considering we weren't sure how much longer we would have Trixie. My Mom went back to Kritters and was immediately discouraged when hearing that the price for the dog was $500. She told the woman there that "her husband would kill her if she spent $500 on a dog." The lady explained that after a few weeks, they have to send the puppies to the local SPCA to make room for more and, without hesitation, said she'd cut the price in half. Mom responded: "His name is Max and he's coming home with me!"


Trixie was getting old though. We were told she'd only live six months but she was in our family for several years. She started losing her sight after a while and running into things. She developed a bad limp and was often sick toward the end. We weren't sure how the young pup and the old dog would get along. As if it were out of some Disney movie, the two became fast friends. They slept together at night, barked together at the nothingness beyond our gate and Max took care of Trixie when she was slowly dying. When Dad put food out for them, Trixie just lay underneath the dining room table perhaps saving her strength or just unable to get up. Max would grab a mouthful of food and carry it back from the kitchen and to where Trixie was and helped feed her. Eventually, we all had to come to the understanding that Trixie was blind, def and having trouble walking and going to the bathroom. We had to do right by Trixie by making the hardest decision any pet owner has to make. We kids said our goodbyes to Trixie and then my Dad carried her out of the house and that was the last we seen of her.

But my Mom's plan to help ease the pain with the new puppy worked like a charm. Max was still a playful puppy who loved running full speed from the kitchen and jumping onto someone's lap in the living room. Our favorite memories of Max-Man, a nickname my Mom easily formed after only moments of goofing with him, were when we had these rope bones that he would drag around and chew on. Max would grab one end of the rope while we had the other and we would wrestle around with him in our own tug of war. One day, Max wised up and while he and my Dad were battling for the rope, Max waited 'til Pop was putting extra effort into the fight and then Max let go of his end and watched it fly and smack Dad right on his head. Max then grabbed the other end and ran off while Dad recovered.

One day in December of '97, Max seemed to be getting sick because he wasn't his playful self. He'd lie around and often had coughing fits. We thought that Max maybe swallowed something that got caught in his throat. It was Christmas time, so perhaps a decoration hook or something. He also enjoyed those Tostito tortilla chips and they do have an odd shape that might get caught. Our neighbor Jimmy was a veterinarian and advised us that we'd get him to a animal hospital because even he had no clue what wrong with Max. Mom and Dad took Max to the University of Pennsylvania Animal Hospital, the best place in the city to take your pet. They ignored our description of what we've seen at home and advised us that he would be fine and whatever he may have swallowed would eventually pass. My Mom felt like there was something more to his symptoms and requested they X-ray him. The doctors adamantly denied our requests several times because they thought it'd be too much money for us to spend. Despite the cost, Mom wanted it done but "U of P" never allowed it. Later that night, Max got worse, coughing up blood periodically and Mom really got worried and called the doctors back. Again, they said it was natural and said an X-ray was completely unnecessary. We all went to bed hoping Max would be okay in the morning.

Warning:

What you are about to read is both sad and graphic.

I still remember that morning waking up and seeing Dad meet Mom at the top of the steps. It felt like a dream . . . it still does in a way. Dad just said to her "he's gone." Whether I was ignorant or perhaps just denying what I was hearing, my mind refused to comprehend what was really going on. My parents had to break it to us that Max had died over night. Despite what you believe right now, this is not the most tragic aspect of the story.

For some reason, our parents did not shield us from the horror that was lying before us. Max had bled out over night. Our puppy, barely two years old, was laying right in front of our kitchen gate in a pool of his own blood. The images you only see in movies and the beginning of every Law and Order were now burned in the minds of two 13-year old boys and the rest of the family that just had our hearts crushed instantaneously.

My Mom sued the University of Pennsylvania for malpractice and wrongful death. Kritters also had a policy on their animals that if they passed away within two years, they would replace the animal. That is how we have Sammy and Boomer today (Boomer was actually rescued from an abusive home). We also got to know the breeder that we purchased Sammy from and when he was closing his business, we helped find a home for Sammy's mom, Suzie. Suzie is an older dog with a young heart and my sister Karyn and her husband Chris take care of her now.

The saddest memory about Max is just the few words my Dad said about his passing. I never seen my Dad cry before that day as he said goodbye to Max. When I finally got the courage to ask him what made him cry, he said: "all he could think about is that he was all alone. He must've been so scared and no one was there with him. He died all alone." I still get choked up on those words even as I write them right now.

Rest in Peace Max

Back to my original thoughts, this investigation is a much more serious matter now. The Federal Government has taken over the case from Virginia prosecutors and executing search warrants throughout Michael Vick's property. Profootballtalk.com, a website that features clips from various news sectors and extensive commentary on the NFL, has dedicated a page for the continuous updates of the investigation and even made a funny yet insightful Goodfellas comparison to video of the federal investigators digging up areas on the property.

While listening to comments that Virginia prosecutor Gerald Poindexter made to the media about the Feds getting involved, I was confused because it sounded like maybe I was listening to Mike Vick's defense attorney. Poindexter wondered about race being an issue, Vick's celebrity status and why the Federal Government was involved at all, saying that it is foreign to him about "the federal government getting into a dog-fighting case..."

Would you want this for your furry loved one?

I am not a judge, jury or a powerful figure in the media (despite my wishful thinking) that can convict Vick of these allegations. As a NFL fan, I hope that Vick is not involved and that he cooperates with investigators to put an end to this ugly situation. The only guilt that is on Vick is through public opinion and the media. He is innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. But the fact that some involved in this case are not showing the seriousness that this deserves is disturbing enough.

To everyone reading, think about visiting a local SPCA or pet store and bringing home a dog. Young or old, big or small, you'll never regret it. I promise you.

NBA FINALS UPDATE

Larry Hughes is killing Cleveland's chances to be competitive in this series. His numbers: 21+ minutes per game, 1 point per game, 2+ rebounds per game, 1 assist per game and is shooting 1-10 combined in both games. He isn't committing many personal fouls, which if its a hard foul could be useful to at least give speedy point guard Tony Parker something to think about when he tries to go to the paint.

Pardon me if I boost Eric Snow's ego up, but playing only 11 minutes in game 2, and only because LeBron was in foul trouble early in the first quarter, is not enough for this team. The minutes are right, but not the situation. Snow is someone who can control the tempo and manage the offense for LeBron. His lack of a jump shot is troubling for the Cavs but his ability on the defensive side of the ball would give them an asset they need to stop Tony Parker.

The thing that the Cavs must do is not to play Eric Snow in Larry Hughes place, but to use a point guard by committee approach with Daniel Gibson's shooting touch and the fearless approach he has had throughout the entire playoffs. Snow can give you the balance on the defensive side of the ball the Cavs need with James and the long Pavlovic (who has really improved his shooting in the series but most make better decisions with the ball). The threat of Damon Jones long range shooting stroke has been an empty one until he hit two big shots in the Cav's near fourth quarter comeback Sunday night.

Hughes is not getting rebounds, playing quality defense or doing anything on the offensive end except being incredibly offensive. If the Cavs hope to turn things around, their big men have to play bigger and LeBron has to play smart and not allow this team to dig another hole to big for them to get out of in the fourth.

Our 42 of the Day

My Godson, Lil' Seanny, wearing the 4-2