I just got word from a friend that Roxie, a dog I loved and took care of during my former marriage has died. Details of her illness, last day or of her passing have not been shared with me.
Roxie was the only dog Jack would allow to touch him on a couch or on the floor. Jack, Needa and Roxie had a special bond.
Below is a story that appears in the “Dog Chapter” of my last book; “I
wrote it on the Internet so I know it’s true.” Released in April of this
year on Amazon. (with Epilogue)
ROXIE THE ROTTIE
think about second chances it is usually a term we associate with
people, not dogs. When convicts get released from prison, they are given
as second chance. When a first time offender gets probation instead of
jail time, it’s a second chance. When people find themselves in an
on-the-rocks marriage or relationship, they hope a second chance will
come. When any of us “imperfect warm blooded humans” wake up each
morning we are all given the chance to make things right again.
But sometimes the heartbreaking reality is that many in our canine
family don’t get a second chance because their only chance was ruined by
careless or thoughtless humans. When Roxie the Rottweiler was given a
second chance she seized it---like a hungry dog to a bone.
don’t know the details of her litter or puppyhood or anything about the
first several years of her life. What we know is that sometime in 2013
this malnourished, disease infested Rottweiler was found wandering the
streets of Hamtramck and was taken in by a rescue group.
Hamtramck is a tiny city that is dwarfed by Detroit; its neighbor to the
south. Detroit has had more than their share of woe in recent years and
I don’t mean to pick on them. But too often when you hear about Detroit
on the news it is because of a murder, theft or some other violent
crime. In a city with such a high poverty level and where many people
cannot afford to feed their family it is no surprise that the first one
kicked out of the house is the family dog.
There is no shortage
of neglected dogs who are abused and either die on the street of hunger
or at the hand of the sick, thugs who shoot them for fun.
always considered Roxie a smart dog because of her mannerisms, listening
capabilities and the interest she takes in people, television, what’s
on the computer screen and just about anything new she is introduced to
as she gets older. What this mellowing means is that it’s not too far of
a reach to believe that she was smart enough to know that she had to
get out of Detroit (most likely her original place of residence) and set
out for a better place on her own.
But she only made it to
Hamtramck, which still a long way away from Royal Oak. Fortunately the
Rottweiler Rescue of Michigan took her in and hoped they could help her
find a new home. There is something called “A Rott’s Prayer” written on
the web page for the Rottweiler Rescue of Detroit that reads:
I ask for the privilege of not being born
...not to be born until you can assure me
of a home and a master to protect me,
and a right to live as long as I am
physically able to enjoy life...not
to be born until my body is precious and
men have ceased to exploit it because
it is cheap and plentiful.
I know someone prayed that prayer for Roxi because she got her second chance.
When the Rottweiler Rescue took her in she was in bad shape. She was a
dog who had likely experienced the worst of the worst at the hands of an
owner who had no business having a dog. All signs pointed to her being
neglected and abused. She needed a change.
Before we were
married Christy was dating our mutual close friend Keith. He was a dog
guy like me and wanted a dog in his life. Roxie was chosen. Christy had
doubts but Keith persisted and persuaded her to let him bring her home
and she agreed. But when Roxie left the shelter it was hard for her to
adjust to her new life. In this new home there was plenty of love, food
and safety, but Roxie continued to act aggressive toward Christy in an
attempt to establish dominance.
Over and over Christy asked
Keith to Roxie back to the shelter. She was becoming too much of a risk.
As a last resort Roxie was shipped off to boot camp for training
because it was clear that things were not working out and more change
was needed. Between boot camp and the people running the shelter,
Christy was given a corrective course of action to implement whenever
Roxie would act aggressive. This simple maneuver for the 85 pound
Rottweiler was to grab her by the collar pin her down but to immediately
show her love and affection. But as often as this method was tried it
was neither simple nor effective.
Clearly, Roxie was a “man’s
dog” who responded well to Keith but the behavioral issues not going
away with Christy and this made everyone sad. The writing on the wall
was that the day was quickly approaching when Roxie would no longer be
welcome in the house.
On October 5, 2013, everything changed when
Keith was found unresponsive in the bedroom and was pronounced deceased
a short while later. Roxie was lying next to him in bed when he was
found. She never left his side. This was a turning point for both
Christy and Roxie as they both realized it was now just the two of them
together against this world of unexpected heartbreak. Roxie shared the
grief and became a different dog.
Christy and I got married in
May of 2015 and since that time there has not been a sweeter dog in our
home. Roxie instantly bonded with my greyhounds and soon became our
“tank girl.” She loves her new family and often leads the way on walks.
Roxie smiles, speaks to us and loves us as if it were her last day on
earth. We all have scars and the world can be a very unforgiving place.
This is why God gave us dogs.
Roxie became best friends with
Jack and Needa. She taught them how to beg. She loves watching
television and turns her head like the RCA Victor dog when she hears a
dog bark on TV. She is usually the one who begins the long choruses of
howling in the family room that make our house sound like there’s a pack
of wolves among us. As this happens we are all in stitches. She’ll
think nothing of walking between your legs for affection and won’t stop
pulling your hand back to her until she is satisfied that she has had
enough attention for the time being.
I love Roxie as one of my
own because now she is one of my own. I know she did not invade my life
for the purpose of trying to take any love away from Jack and Needa. She
did it to ensure that the love in her heart had somewhere else to go
because this “second chance canine” has plenty to spare.
Epilogue; September 10, 2017
At about 2:00 on May 8, 2017, Roxie tried to follow Jack, Needa and I
out the front door like she had done hundreds of times. But this time we
were not going for a walk. I had just completed my last pass thru of
the house I shared with the woman who was the love of my life and I was
leaving our house for the last time.
My eyes went blurry. Jack
and Needa knew something was up as I reached down and attached their
leashes to their collar as I sobbed.
We tried to walk out the
door. Roxie didn’t understand why I pushed her back inside, shut and
locked the door in her face and threw the key under the mat. As we
walked away for the last time, her face was pressed against the front
window, wondering why we were all leaving her.
I felt the same way
Tuesday, October 3, 2017
Think America is uniting today? Think Again
This morning I tried to find a meme I could post to project love, togetherness, compassion and support for the Las Vegas tragedy. Most of the ones I found said “United for Vegas” or something similar. But in my heart I knew that statement was a lie and in sharing it I would become an ugly part of the hypocrisy gripping our nation because the sobering truth is this:
We are not a united country.
Each day my newsfeed, the headlines of every major news outlet, late night entertainers, Hollywood elitists and even facebook friends I know personally spew a vile but to them, necessary and deserved hatred for our President, Donald Trump. It is blind hatred, over the top hatred and hatred that knows no bounds and only gets stronger every day. That is not a characteristic of a united country and we are a country of hypocrites.
As much as I’d like to join the parade of support and love for our brothers and sisters in Vegas, I can’t; at least not on their terms. This is because the unity of America is a false narrative. It is a cheap “hurrah for us” and “do as I say not as I do” saying that carries little substance or meaning anymore.
However, I do believe that individual unity exists when we lock arms with friends and strangers and it is refreshing to see that at least people are trying. I will join them in that effort and hope the movement swells, though I don’t expect it to---not when you realize how deeply cheapened the words “hope, faith and unity” have become in America.
The term “Pray for Vegas” is something being thrown around with vigor and it should be. People are posting the meme because it is the popular thing to do even if it conflicts with their (dis) beliefs in God and humanity. There is a large contingent of people using it who are the most vicious opponents of God and religion in America and say it because it is the PC thing to do. It’s true and don’t try to pretend anymore that it is not. Let that bit of hypocrisy sink in when you hear your atheist friend say “our thoughts and prayers are with them” from one side of their mouth while the other side is shouting “Fuck Trump!”
There are Christians and people of many different faiths praying for the victims. Then we’ve got Jimmy Kimmel, the windbag mouthpiece of Hollywood saying “Republican’s should be praying for God to forgive them.”
The Godless left is on full display---and again, don’t pretend it’s not.
Yesterday in Vegas we saw the best of the best in people who helped save others’ lives while on the internet we saw the worst of the worst. Immediately those opposed to guns began politicizing this event. I even have a liberal friend who I respect but their knee jerk response was that "every shooting in America is political."
Bullshit. Every shooting in America is a tragedy.
It is a sick irony that the people (and politicians) predictably will demand a tougher stance against guns yet they won’t support the police officer’s who are called on to carry it out.
The same people who pitched a fit saying football players have first amendment rights to disrespect the flag are the same ones trying to take away second amendment rights. Look at the mostly black on black gun violence in Chicago. 524 people have been murdered so far this year. It's not cops who are doing all the killing folks and Chicago has the most stringent gun laws in the USA.
Yesterday many tried to justify their “ban all guns response” by offering an excuse very popular with eight year olds: “Well, he’s doing it too,” pointing their finger at the right side of the aisle. But there wasn’t a shred of truth to that political argument yesterday and there isn’t today. Republican’s had absolutely nothing to politicize and they didn’t. Instead they were the recipients of more hatred from people who were “United for Vegas.”
More and more America is taking on the traits of criminals (dumb, lazy and stupid.) Instead of talking about our differences these days it takes about three seconds before the race card is pulled and used like a switchblade because it’s so easy to do. If someone is offended then everyone needs to be offended. You have people saying they want to save children from death by banning guns but proudly wear shirts that say “I had an abortion” and wear them like a crown. When I grew up people who violently protested in the streets were called anarchists. Today we call them Antifa and they are SUPPORTED by a political party who honestly believes the way to peace and understanding is through street violence and Fake News.
Look at the list of those blaming the President and Congress for what happened in Vegas Sunday night and you’ll see a “D” next to each of their names. Since when did kicking our fellow Americans when we are down become the American way? Since when did rubbing salt in fresh wounds become acceptable? The sad truth is that those things became acceptable/fashionable/lauded and praised the day Donald Trump took office.
Our President Donald Trump denounced what he called "an act of pure evil" and was criticized for it. Whatever. I’m over all you hypocrites.
I’ve made no secret that in order for America to truly become united again it would take another kick in the gut like September 11th. Remember when we came together, albeit briefly? That was something, wasn’t it? But those days have gone the way of the flip phone, the pay phone and families going to church on Sunday.
The closest we’ve come to a tragedy of that magnitude is this Mandaly Massacre but looking back over the last 36 hours, America was shaken but has barely flinched when it has come to uniting a movement. Before the bodies were even in the morgue and families notified there was name calling and division over guns. And despite the pleading from the voices of reason, it hasn’t let up. Remember when people used to blame the murder for murder? I don’t either.
About the only thing we can agree on (most of us anyway) is that the killer was an evil person. We don’t know what provoked him and never will. His was clearly a pre-meditated act and the media has spent all day trying to pin it on our President.
I know there are well meaning, compassionate people who will send money, give blood, provide comfort to the victims and try to do good things for others. But don’t be a fool; we are not coming together as a nation even after a tragedy of this magnitude, not when the people shouting the loudest into a megaphone about stopping hate are the ones calling our President “Hitler” out of the other side of their mouth.
We are not united under God. We are divided and it’s getting worse. So when you want to say your thoughts and prayers are with the victims in Vegas, keep in mind that those people who hate our President don’t care about your thoughts and prayers any more than they care about his.
While the President of the United States was consoling the nation, half of it was wringing their hands to come up with a new criticism, a new lie to tell about him, a new accusation to make and a new way to hate him.
We are one step closer to the next civil war. God help us all.
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
Inspired by today’s constant stream of fake news and erroneous information found on social media, Michigan author Peter Wurdock has taken matters into his own hands with his new book I WROTE IT ON THE INTERNET SO I KNOW IT’S TRUE.
In his new book (his sixth) readers are treated to over a generous helping of what he labels “Essays and musings from an underemployed writer.” His subjects are whimsical, informative, interesting and serious.
“Whenever I had writer’s block I would find a photo and compose a short essay about it as a writing exercise. After I posted it on Facebook, I was amazed at how many people would join the conversation. An added bonus was that we were able to talk about something other than politics!”
His love for dogs (especially Greyhounds) is humorously detailed in vignettes about what life has been like after adopting two of them in 2012.
I WROTE IT ON THE INTERNET SO I KNOW IT’S TRUE includes a healthy dose of music as he recalls his life as a record promoter in Nashville and some of the musicians worked while living there.
Love, loss, death and dying is illuminated as he writes about some special people who are no longer with him. The book also contains a healthy dose of his favorite subject; Michigan's Upper Peninsula and there is no shortage of nostalgic Detroit memories.
For review copies (EBook only) Contact: Petewurdock@Gmail.com
Also just released is “Where the Heart Remains,” selected fiction and nonfiction from his first five books written between 2007-2017.
Monday, January 9, 2017
Twenty years ago yesterday I packed up my car and headed to Nashville, TN with $800 in my pocket to try and break into a new level of the music business and find something meaningful. It was the night of Elvis’s birthday when I arrived and I had already secured a place to live after meeting and getting to know a musician from my numerous business trips to Nashville the prior year.
We lived in a dump on 29th Avenue North. Actually, to call it a dump was an insult to the city dumps we know, but you get the idea and my roommate made our affordable place a home through his fine taste in décor including the decoupage toilet that I’ll never forget. Upon my arrival he took me to one of the hot spots for songwriters where we had a few drinks before we went home to enjoy his Italian meatloaf.
I moved to Nashville after making trips there every month during 1996 as I met with industry leaders and up and comers. Nearly everyone told me it would take years to break into the industry so I armed myself with a “who’s who decision makers” directory and started making phone calls and writing letters.
After about two months of little success I landed a job with the top film production company that produced music videos for the stars. Though the job was only 4 days I made enough money to last another month and a half and kept writing letters. Everyone was friendly and welcoming, which was a stark contrast to dealing with industry people in New York and LA. . I knew I was getting closer to something when Garth Brook’s manager called me. It wasn’t to offer me a job but to compliment me for the letters I was writing. After receiving their form letter of rejection I wrote back to tell them I “wasn’t accepting rejection letters at this time.” I was lauded for my approach and told something would give for me soon.
I finally got a job as a bonafied record promoter, promoting music of the stars to country radio stations. This brought me closer into the fold of record executives and recording artists. In Nashville it wasn’t uncommon to see the stars of the day and label executives at the diner or anyplace on Music Row. One time I was at a songwriter’s night at an intimate room sitting next to Tom Wopat, who along with his TV cousin John Schneider was an accomplished songwriter. We sipped longnecks and kibitzed about life between the performances until finally one of the songwriters spotted him and started making jokes at his expense about the Dukes of Hazzard.
Tom didn’t say anything and being several beers into the night I got a little miffed because I thought the writers were disrespecting him. He didn’t say a word and I could not decipher if the head shaking and grin on his face was him trying to shake it off or something else. Suddenly I envisioned that Dukes of Hazzard episode when the Duke Boys got into a barroom brawl. You know, the one where Boss Hog was up to something shady? Ok . . . I know . . . it happened in every episode. I honestly thought for a minute that he would need my help because he was outnumbered three songwriters to one, so I leaned over to him and said something like “If this turns ugly I’ll take the one on the right and you take the one on the left.” I was ready for an old fashioned Duke Boy rumble.
But at that moment one of the songwriters said “We’ve got a special guest who’s going to join us and you know who he is because we’ve been making fun at his expense all night. Ladies and gentleman please welcome our good friend Tom Wopat! He took the stage and I breathed a sigh of relief..
I had many laughs in Nashville and many experiences with famous country singers but in the end when I lost my job as a record promoter I didn’t know it at the time but it was the best thing that could have happened to me because in truth, with the exception of very few artists I was promoting records for (Vince Gill, newcomer Leann Rimes and a couple others) the rest of them were a term a friend of mine had coined earlier; NTB. . .which stood for “no talent bum.” I almost got a job at MCA Records and working for a publishing company but they didn’t pan out. I wonder now what course my life would have taken if I had remained there but when I returned to Michigan I partnered with my friend, who has gone on to have an incredible career as a writer, performer, and cancer activist. Even Bruce Springsteen became a fan and recorded with him a few years back.
But without a doubt the greatest thing that happened to me in Nashville was working with my friend Eddie Mugavero. Folks, I kid you not, Eddie is one of the greatest songwriters of this generation. Known largely for his success with western swing, his ability to craft songs is on par with George Gershwin, Jerome Kern, Cole Porter, Richard Rogers and Lorenz Hart and another band from Liverpool who had a few hits. I’ve always wanted to write a musical with his tunes. It would be a modern day Grease and South Pacific rolled into one
While the other black hat tippin’, belt buckle wearin’ George Straight wannabes were writing more songs that rhymed the words “love” and “thinking of,” Eddie was and still is running circles around them with clever lyrics and melodies that demonstrate his mastering of the craft along with a unique musical acumen rarely found. Hell, I think he once wrote a song where he rhymed the word “orange” with something. He takes the best part of a bygone era and crafts songs with a 21st century flair that is beautiful, funny, catchy flowing and eloquent.
We’ve remained in tough through email and facebook and it’s hard to believe 20 years have passed. Eddie is an amazing dude and a pretty good table hockey player. We once had a tournament that lasted seven games and went into double overtime until he finally beat me with seconds remaining. He’s also a Yankee fan, but I don’t hold that against him. If you love music you should follow him on facebook and at very least check out his web page.
Anyway, that was my “20 years ago today” time capsule. Thanks for listening. Friendship is an amazing thing. Swing ya later Mugavero!