An update on the sentencing in Mississippi of attorney Paul Minor and former judges Wes Teel and John Whitfield.
The sentencing hearing started last Thursday and was expected to wrap up by the end of the week. But now it looks like it will go well into next week, with a decision perhaps not coming until Friday. The hearing evidently bogged down on issues related to the assets of Minor, Teel, and Whitfield, who were convicted in March on federal corruption charges.
Once the sentences are handed down, we will provide an analysis of the Minor case. While Mississippi has nonpartisan judicial elections, all of the defendants in the case are clearly Democrats who are supported by trial lawyers and consumer groups. They were prosecuted by a Bush Justice Department, led by Republicans who tend to favor business interests.
Since the mid 1990s, Mississippi and Alabama have formed a virtual Ground Zero in the national battle between trial lawyers/consumer groups and business interests for control of state courts.
We will show you numerous connections between the Minor case and the prosecution of former Alabama governor Don Siegelman. And we will contrast the DOJ's response to alleged wrongdoing by Democrat judges and lawyers in Mississippi to its response to clear wrongdoing in our Legal Schnauzer case by Republican judges and lawyers in Alabama.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Gender Issues
Your humble blogger continues to have problems identifying the gender of our animal friends.
First, I said Babec, the lowland gorilla at the Birmingham Zoo, was a she. Then I discovered that Babec is, in fact, a he--as anyone can plainly see from this manly photo of the dude.
Then I stated that I thought Gumpie Poo, our cover schnauzer, was a she. The kind folks at Valley View Dog Breeders in Australia informed me that Gumpie Poo is a he. Oops, I did it again.
We'll try to get our gender issues straight in the future.
First, I said Babec, the lowland gorilla at the Birmingham Zoo, was a she. Then I discovered that Babec is, in fact, a he--as anyone can plainly see from this manly photo of the dude.
Then I stated that I thought Gumpie Poo, our cover schnauzer, was a she. The kind folks at Valley View Dog Breeders in Australia informed me that Gumpie Poo is a he. Oops, I did it again.
We'll try to get our gender issues straight in the future.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Another Republican Witch Hunt?
Those who have followed the Don Siegelman case might want to pay attention to news coming out of Mississippi today.
The Siegelman case is not the only questionable prosecution of Democratic public officials in the Deep South by the Bush Justice Department. Perhaps an equally questionable prosecution has taken place in Mississippi, and sentencing of attorney Paul Minor and former judges John Whitfield and Wes Teel is scheduled today in U.S. District Court.
The Mississippi case has a number of connections to both the Siegelman case and the case that is unfolding here at Legal Schnauzer. It will be interesting to see if the Mississippi case becomes part of a Congressional inquiry into selective prosecution. There are signs that it should be included.
Mississippi has nonpartisan judicial races, but it is generally understood that all of the defendants in this case are Democrats. Minor's father, Bill Minor, is a well known journalist in the state, who built his reputation on strong reporting during the civil rights era. He still writes a column that is carried in a number of Mississippi newspapers.
The Bushies went after Minor, Whitfield, and Teel twice, too. The first trial resulted in a hung jury. The second trial produced guilty verdicts.
The Siegelman case is not the only questionable prosecution of Democratic public officials in the Deep South by the Bush Justice Department. Perhaps an equally questionable prosecution has taken place in Mississippi, and sentencing of attorney Paul Minor and former judges John Whitfield and Wes Teel is scheduled today in U.S. District Court.
The Mississippi case has a number of connections to both the Siegelman case and the case that is unfolding here at Legal Schnauzer. It will be interesting to see if the Mississippi case becomes part of a Congressional inquiry into selective prosecution. There are signs that it should be included.
About 150 letters have been sent to U.S. District Judge Henry Wingate, asking that mercy be shown toward Minor in sentencing.
Minor, a prominent Gulf Coast attorney, was found guilty in March on charges ranging from racketeering to bribery. Whitfield and Teel were convicted of mail fraud and bribery.
The Mississippi case also included former Supreme Court judge Oliver Diaz, but he was acquitted both on corruption and tax evasion charges. The Bushies went after him twice, and failed both times.Mississippi has nonpartisan judicial races, but it is generally understood that all of the defendants in this case are Democrats. Minor's father, Bill Minor, is a well known journalist in the state, who built his reputation on strong reporting during the civil rights era. He still writes a column that is carried in a number of Mississippi newspapers.
The Bushies went after Minor, Whitfield, and Teel twice, too. The first trial resulted in a hung jury. The second trial produced guilty verdicts.
There are a number of interesting similarities between the Siegelman case in Alabama and the Minor case in Mississippi. Both were tried twice before guilty verdicts were finally produced. (Note how the AP story after the first trial focuses on the weak evidence presented by the prosecution. Sound familiar?) The judges in both were Republican appointees. And the charges in both were almost identical--bribery, RICO, mail fraud, wire fraud, etc.
From the Legal Schnauzer standpoint, the mail fraud charges are particularly interesting. I have overwhelming evidence of honest services mail fraud committed by Republican judges in Alabama. But after more than a year of trying, I've been unable to get anyone in the Bush Justice Department to even look at the evidence.
In fact, I recently had an e-mail exchange with Alice Martin, U.S. Attorney for the Northern District of Alabama, and I think readers will find it fascinating. It is a classic example of a citizen having smoke blown up a certain orifice by a public official. But more importantly, it shows the mindset that allows Ms. Martin to casually shirk her duty to uphold the law and apply justice equally.
Ms. Martin and other members of the Bush DOJ might want to reacquaint themselves with a little item known as the 14th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. Has to do with concepts like equal protection under the law and due process of law. These used to be fairly important ideas in America's justice system.
Let's not forget that George W. Bush is in the White House only because the U.S. Supreme Court made creative use of the equal-protection clause in ruling for Bush over Al Gore in the 2000 election fiasco.
Do conservatives still believe in the notion of equal protection under the law? There seem to be legitimate reasons to raise that question about the Siegelman and Minor cases. And as the Legal Schnauzer case unfolds here, you will see huge reasons to raise that question.
Interestingly, Alabama and Mississippi have been at ground zero as spending on state appellate court races has skyrocketed, driven largely by the U.S. Chamber of Commerce and its corporate backers.
Justice at Stake reports that Alabama led the nation in spending on Supreme Court races in 2006. Mississippi has consistently ranked near the top of such polls in recent years.
As for the Minor and Siegelman cases, mail fraud is central to both. And it is at the heart of the wrongdoing we are outlining here at Legal Schnauzer. We will soon be taking a detailed look at mail fraud--what it is and how it is proven. Mail fraud made up the overwhelming majority of the 30-some counts against Don Siegelman.
We will also be looking at cases where corrupt judges in other states are being investigated or prosecuted. Are there political overtones to those cases? We will take a look.
Meanwhile, we will keep you posted on the sentencing of Paul Minor today in Mississippi.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Welcome to my Nightmare
Let's return for a moment to the issue of the financial devastation that can result from an encounter with corrupt judges and lawyers. In a recent post, I called these folks "financial terrorists" and outlined the reasons they deserve that label.
Like the terrorists who flew airplanes into buildings on 9/11, the financial terrorists I'm aware of have been frighteningly successful in their mission.
My wife and I have received ample evidence of this. A few days ago, we began to receive phone calls from a debt-collection law firm. It's a Birmingham outfit called Ingram & Associates LLC.
A little background: Before this legal problem started, my wife and I were fortunate to have excellent credit. Neither of us has ever brought home "big bucks." But we have fairly modest tastes, and we don't have any children, so we were able to make ends meet with some margin for error.
Once this lawsuit hit and dragged on for more than five years, I became aware that our financial picture was taking a turn for the worse. Because I was unable to find a lawyer to represent me honestly, and because I couldn't afford another one after the first two cost us close to $20,000, I began to represent myself. My wife and I divided up the duties: I handled the legal side and she tried her best to keep us afloat financially.
One reason I asked her to deal with the money side is that I don't deal well with financial pressure. I've never liked the idea of being in debt, and the thought of being in debt because of someone else's criminal activities, was almost more than I could bear.
My wife juggled things as best she could, but I knew we were struggling to stay on the positive side of the ledger. The kind folks at Ingram & Associates LLC were happy to let me know, at least according to their records, how much we were struggling.
A woman named Tracey Mize seemed to be the point person for Ingram & Associates on our account. She talked to my wife one evening while I was mowing our yard, and she talked to me the next night.
Ms. Mize told me that Ingram & Associates LLC had been hired by American Express to sue me for a debt we allegedly owed. She stated that the amount was somewhere in the $10,000 range, and with attorney fees tacked on, it was about $14,000. She was calling as a courtesy, she said, to see if we could make arrangements to pay off the alleged debt.
If no arrangements could be made, she said, Ingram & Associates LLC would sue me on behalf of their client, American Express. Possible outcomes of this? She said they could garnish 25 percent of my after-tax pay and attach certain assets. For example, she helpfully pointed out, the deed to our house could be auctioned off on the courthouse steps.
I told Ms. Mize that, if we indeed owed any debt, it was because we had been the victims of a crime--that unscrupulous judges and lawyers had committed honest services mail fraud that had cost us thousands of dollars.
Initially, Ms. Mize seemed interested in what had happened to us. But she eventually made it clear that she didn't give a flip about any crime that had occurred. She simply wanted her hands on any assets of ours that had not been effectively stolen.
The conversation took a downhill turn at that point, and I wound up speaking with Ms. Mize's supervisor, one Jann Blalock. The conversation didn't get any better with her on the line.
I imagine many Americans have had experiences with debt-collection agencies or law firms. I had been fortunate to live almost 50 years without having that delightful experience. But now I've joined the crowd.
As if my wife and I didn't have enough anxiety and stress already, trying to recover from emotional and financial injuries created by criminals in the justice system, now we have to deal with a whole new kind of lawyer type.
I would be interested in hearing about experiences others have had with debt-collection firms. And the Legal Schnauzer will endeavor to keep you abreast of our interactions with the helpful folks at Ingram & Associates LLC.
Like the terrorists who flew airplanes into buildings on 9/11, the financial terrorists I'm aware of have been frighteningly successful in their mission.
My wife and I have received ample evidence of this. A few days ago, we began to receive phone calls from a debt-collection law firm. It's a Birmingham outfit called Ingram & Associates LLC.
A little background: Before this legal problem started, my wife and I were fortunate to have excellent credit. Neither of us has ever brought home "big bucks." But we have fairly modest tastes, and we don't have any children, so we were able to make ends meet with some margin for error.
Once this lawsuit hit and dragged on for more than five years, I became aware that our financial picture was taking a turn for the worse. Because I was unable to find a lawyer to represent me honestly, and because I couldn't afford another one after the first two cost us close to $20,000, I began to represent myself. My wife and I divided up the duties: I handled the legal side and she tried her best to keep us afloat financially.
One reason I asked her to deal with the money side is that I don't deal well with financial pressure. I've never liked the idea of being in debt, and the thought of being in debt because of someone else's criminal activities, was almost more than I could bear.
My wife juggled things as best she could, but I knew we were struggling to stay on the positive side of the ledger. The kind folks at Ingram & Associates LLC were happy to let me know, at least according to their records, how much we were struggling.
A woman named Tracey Mize seemed to be the point person for Ingram & Associates on our account. She talked to my wife one evening while I was mowing our yard, and she talked to me the next night.
Ms. Mize told me that Ingram & Associates LLC had been hired by American Express to sue me for a debt we allegedly owed. She stated that the amount was somewhere in the $10,000 range, and with attorney fees tacked on, it was about $14,000. She was calling as a courtesy, she said, to see if we could make arrangements to pay off the alleged debt.
If no arrangements could be made, she said, Ingram & Associates LLC would sue me on behalf of their client, American Express. Possible outcomes of this? She said they could garnish 25 percent of my after-tax pay and attach certain assets. For example, she helpfully pointed out, the deed to our house could be auctioned off on the courthouse steps.
I told Ms. Mize that, if we indeed owed any debt, it was because we had been the victims of a crime--that unscrupulous judges and lawyers had committed honest services mail fraud that had cost us thousands of dollars.
Initially, Ms. Mize seemed interested in what had happened to us. But she eventually made it clear that she didn't give a flip about any crime that had occurred. She simply wanted her hands on any assets of ours that had not been effectively stolen.
The conversation took a downhill turn at that point, and I wound up speaking with Ms. Mize's supervisor, one Jann Blalock. The conversation didn't get any better with her on the line.
I imagine many Americans have had experiences with debt-collection agencies or law firms. I had been fortunate to live almost 50 years without having that delightful experience. But now I've joined the crowd.
As if my wife and I didn't have enough anxiety and stress already, trying to recover from emotional and financial injuries created by criminals in the justice system, now we have to deal with a whole new kind of lawyer type.
I would be interested in hearing about experiences others have had with debt-collection firms. And the Legal Schnauzer will endeavor to keep you abreast of our interactions with the helpful folks at Ingram & Associates LLC.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Shining Light on Siegelman Prosecution
Scott Horton, of Harper's, is breaking new ground in coverage of the Don Siegelman prosecution.
First, Horton points out the new Birmingham Business Journal poll showing that 50 percent of respondents believe the Siegelman prosecution was politically motivated. Are these encouraging signs that Alabamians get it? Horton states that he expects that figure to rise to the 70 to 80 percent range soon.
The first step in that progression might be Horton's piece (the first in a series) on Mark Fuller, the judge in the Siegelman case. Will Fuller emerge from the Harper's series looking like an impartial, high-minded jurist? Somehow I doubt it.
Can't wait to read more.
First, Horton points out the new Birmingham Business Journal poll showing that 50 percent of respondents believe the Siegelman prosecution was politically motivated. Are these encouraging signs that Alabamians get it? Horton states that he expects that figure to rise to the 70 to 80 percent range soon.
The first step in that progression might be Horton's piece (the first in a series) on Mark Fuller, the judge in the Siegelman case. Will Fuller emerge from the Harper's series looking like an impartial, high-minded jurist? Somehow I doubt it.
Can't wait to read more.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Lessons from our Pets
Many people who are far smarter than me have pondered weighty questions about pets and what they mean to us.
Do pets have souls? Are they with us in an afterlife?
I imagine whole Web sites are devoted to such questions. A wonderful book on the subject, and many other subjects, is Are There Horses in Heaven?, by F. Morgan Roberts. Dr. Roberts was interim pastor for about three years at Independent Presbyterian Church in Birmingham, and the book is a collection of his sermons. I highly recommend it.
I don't pretend to know the answer to weighty questions about our pets. But I know what my wife and I hope--and believe. A heaven without Murphy and our other animal friends would not seem, well, all that heavenly.
Have you ever wondered about the special senses animals have? For 11 years, I knew that Murphy could see and hear and smell things in a way that I could not. But I also suspect she could sense our Creator in a way that I could not.
Many times I wonder exactly what my mission is in this time and place. I hope I'm a fairly decent husband, son, and brother, and I like to think I'm considered a reliable employee and coworker. I hope a few people consider me a friend worth having.
But I think Murphy knew exactly what her mission in this life was. And I think she sensed that from a higher power every day. Without that kind of connection from above, I don't know how she could live with the faith and trust that she displayed on a daily basis.
We humans struggle to discern our missons. And even when we think we've found them, we are easily distracted, easily turned in other directions. My sense is that Murphy never veered from the path she was meant to be on.
Here's another heavy question: Are there guardian angels, and could they take the form of our beloved pets? Again, I don't pretend to know the answer. But the thought that Murphy might be watching over us brings great comfort to my wife and me. I can't think of anyone who would take that role to heart more than Murphy would.
A shocking thought occurred to me the other day. Is it possible that even Baxter and Chloe, our lovable but (seemingly) not terribly aware kitty kats, have a special connection to the next world? This thought came to me as I read about Oscar, the cat who lives in a Rhode Island nursing home and seems to have an uncanny ability to predict which patients are about to die. He will curl up to a seriously ill patient, seemingly offering comfort in the patient's final moments of life. Even The New England Journal of Medicine wrote about Oscar. Is it possible that these patients develop a closer connection with their Creator in the moments leading up to death? Is it possible that Oscar always has a close connection with his Creator, and when he senses such a connection developing in a human, he sees it as his duty to be nearby--to help sent the person on his or her way?
I now look at Baxter and Chloe with renewed respect--and apprehension. What exactly do they know behind those baby blue eyes?
So we ask the question again: Why Legal Schnauzer? Well, Murphy represents goodness to me, and I hope something good can come out of this blog--not only for me, but for all of the Americans who are cheated and treated disrespectfully by certain judges and lawyers. I think the number of Americans who suffer because of our broken justice system is far greater than any of us knows. But it goes beyond the way these criminals treat people. They also abuse the law, the very entity they are sworn to uphold.
Young Americans are dying and being maimed in Iraq and Afghanistan, supposedly so we can promote the idea of democracy around the world. But what about our own democracy? Without honorable courts, our system of government stands on shaky footing. Shouldn't we get our own house in order before we try to sell our system of governance to others? In certain jurisdictions around the country, and certainly in Shelby County, Alabama, some parties would be just as likely to receive justice before the Taliban as they would in our "advanced" courts.
When I looked into Murphy's face, I saw (as best I could tell) a touch of God. I've looked into the faces of several judges and lawyers, and I've seen what I would call true evil. And I don't think that's too strong a term. These people lied right to my face. They knew they were lying, and they knew that I knew they were lying. And still they cheated me time and time again. And I'm convinced they do it to other people. That's pretty much a textbook definition of sociopathy. It's certainly a sign of a very sick legal culture.
This kind of systemic pathology is not eradicated unless it is confronted. And I don't believe people inside the system--lawyers, judges, paralegals, clerks--can do it. They are too close to the system. They either don't see the pathology or they lack the courage to act on it. It will take outsiders to change the system.
Judges know that, and I think that's why they almost always tell pro se parties to get an attorney. Outsiders, who might see the system for the cesspool that it really is, make judges nervous.
So is it my mission to confront our broken justice system? If it is, I can't do it alone. I was put in this position for some reason; I certainly didn't ask to be here. Perhaps I can help educate the public about the way their tax dollars are being wasted, and their constitution is being abused, by corrupt judges.
Can I discern my mission and follow it the way Murphy followed hers? We'll see.
But every time I sit down to post here, I look at the picture of Gumpie-Poo. I look at that fascinating mix of determination and joy on her face. I look at her sense of purpose. I look at her vitality.
And I think of Murphy. More than anything, I think of Murphy--and I pray that her spirit might shine through on these pages.
Do pets have souls? Are they with us in an afterlife?
I imagine whole Web sites are devoted to such questions. A wonderful book on the subject, and many other subjects, is Are There Horses in Heaven?, by F. Morgan Roberts. Dr. Roberts was interim pastor for about three years at Independent Presbyterian Church in Birmingham, and the book is a collection of his sermons. I highly recommend it.
I don't pretend to know the answer to weighty questions about our pets. But I know what my wife and I hope--and believe. A heaven without Murphy and our other animal friends would not seem, well, all that heavenly.
Have you ever wondered about the special senses animals have? For 11 years, I knew that Murphy could see and hear and smell things in a way that I could not. But I also suspect she could sense our Creator in a way that I could not.
Many times I wonder exactly what my mission is in this time and place. I hope I'm a fairly decent husband, son, and brother, and I like to think I'm considered a reliable employee and coworker. I hope a few people consider me a friend worth having.
But I think Murphy knew exactly what her mission in this life was. And I think she sensed that from a higher power every day. Without that kind of connection from above, I don't know how she could live with the faith and trust that she displayed on a daily basis.
We humans struggle to discern our missons. And even when we think we've found them, we are easily distracted, easily turned in other directions. My sense is that Murphy never veered from the path she was meant to be on.
Here's another heavy question: Are there guardian angels, and could they take the form of our beloved pets? Again, I don't pretend to know the answer. But the thought that Murphy might be watching over us brings great comfort to my wife and me. I can't think of anyone who would take that role to heart more than Murphy would.
A shocking thought occurred to me the other day. Is it possible that even Baxter and Chloe, our lovable but (seemingly) not terribly aware kitty kats, have a special connection to the next world? This thought came to me as I read about Oscar, the cat who lives in a Rhode Island nursing home and seems to have an uncanny ability to predict which patients are about to die. He will curl up to a seriously ill patient, seemingly offering comfort in the patient's final moments of life. Even The New England Journal of Medicine wrote about Oscar. Is it possible that these patients develop a closer connection with their Creator in the moments leading up to death? Is it possible that Oscar always has a close connection with his Creator, and when he senses such a connection developing in a human, he sees it as his duty to be nearby--to help sent the person on his or her way?
I now look at Baxter and Chloe with renewed respect--and apprehension. What exactly do they know behind those baby blue eyes?
So we ask the question again: Why Legal Schnauzer? Well, Murphy represents goodness to me, and I hope something good can come out of this blog--not only for me, but for all of the Americans who are cheated and treated disrespectfully by certain judges and lawyers. I think the number of Americans who suffer because of our broken justice system is far greater than any of us knows. But it goes beyond the way these criminals treat people. They also abuse the law, the very entity they are sworn to uphold.
Young Americans are dying and being maimed in Iraq and Afghanistan, supposedly so we can promote the idea of democracy around the world. But what about our own democracy? Without honorable courts, our system of government stands on shaky footing. Shouldn't we get our own house in order before we try to sell our system of governance to others? In certain jurisdictions around the country, and certainly in Shelby County, Alabama, some parties would be just as likely to receive justice before the Taliban as they would in our "advanced" courts.
When I looked into Murphy's face, I saw (as best I could tell) a touch of God. I've looked into the faces of several judges and lawyers, and I've seen what I would call true evil. And I don't think that's too strong a term. These people lied right to my face. They knew they were lying, and they knew that I knew they were lying. And still they cheated me time and time again. And I'm convinced they do it to other people. That's pretty much a textbook definition of sociopathy. It's certainly a sign of a very sick legal culture.
This kind of systemic pathology is not eradicated unless it is confronted. And I don't believe people inside the system--lawyers, judges, paralegals, clerks--can do it. They are too close to the system. They either don't see the pathology or they lack the courage to act on it. It will take outsiders to change the system.
Judges know that, and I think that's why they almost always tell pro se parties to get an attorney. Outsiders, who might see the system for the cesspool that it really is, make judges nervous.
So is it my mission to confront our broken justice system? If it is, I can't do it alone. I was put in this position for some reason; I certainly didn't ask to be here. Perhaps I can help educate the public about the way their tax dollars are being wasted, and their constitution is being abused, by corrupt judges.
Can I discern my mission and follow it the way Murphy followed hers? We'll see.
But every time I sit down to post here, I look at the picture of Gumpie-Poo. I look at that fascinating mix of determination and joy on her face. I look at her sense of purpose. I look at her vitality.
And I think of Murphy. More than anything, I think of Murphy--and I pray that her spirit might shine through on these pages.
A Hole in Our Hearts
Whenever my wife and I think of anything good--a well-turned phrase, a beautiful sunset, an inspired musical performance--we think of Murphy.
That's what she came to represent to us. For example, when a particularly good smell finds its way to my nose, I think of Murphy. My wife had the idea of caring for Murphy as mostly an indoor dog (except for our daily walks). I'd thought of having an "indoor-outdoor dog," with the fenced backyard and all of that, but my wife wasn't having it. "I want her to be clean so she can be close to us and be part of the family," she said. That turned out to be a great idea.
If you get a schnauzer bathed and groomed every 6-8 weeks or so, and brush their coats regularly, they have the most wonderful smell. It's like fresh laundry, only better. If heaven has a scent, it must smell something like Murphy's coat.
We think of Murphy every time we see a northern mockingbird, which is so common here in Alabama. With its gray covering, erect bearing, and alert/piercing eyes, the mocker reminds us so much of Murphy. And like Murphy, mockers don't suffer fools, cheaters, or intruders gladly. Ever seen a mocker dive bomb a cat who gets too close to the bird's nest? Like Murphy, northern mockingbirds take security issues seriously.
We find it ironic that readers throughout the world have come to associate the Alabama mockingbird with justice, through Harper Lee's classic To Kill a Mockingbird. To us, Murphy represents justice, too.
In many ways, my wife and I feel we owe our lives to Murphy. She was six years old when this legal nightmare started, and without her, I'm not sure we would have lived through it. She invariably made us laugh several times a day, and that alone did wonders for our mental health. And on the darkest days, she seemed to try extra hard to provide a positive, upbeat presence, one we desperately needed.
(We also owe a huge thank you to our family physician, Dr. Edward Childs of UAB Internal Medicine. I recall reading an article several years ago about the most stressful events that can happen in life. Death of a spouse was No. 1 and death of a child was No. 2. I don't recall the list exactly, but I'm pretty sure dealing with a lawsuit was in the top 10, maybe the top five. I would encourage anyone facing a lawsuit or other highly stressful event, to consult their physician. Modern medicine now has some wonderful treatments for stress, anxiety, and depression.)
Murphy was such a cool older dog. As adorable as she was as a puppy, she was even neater as an adult. When she was eight or nine, her vet gave her a "senior profile," which they do for all dogs of a certain age. We used to joke that they must have meant "senior puppy profile," because Murphy still looked and acted a lot like a puppy. Even her vet said that, if he didn't know better, he would think she was about five years old.
We joked that her favorite athlete must be Joe Namath because he was famous for the quote: "I can't wait till tomorrow because I get better looking every day."
So we were caught completely off guard when Murphy developed a cough on Sunday, January 11, 2004, and didn't show her usual interest in a walk on a cold day. She was always sniffing things on the ground, so we figured she must have gotten something caught in her nose or throat. But when the cough did not get any better, my wife took her to the vet on Monday.
Naturally, Murphy did not cough at the doctor's office. (Murphy was so good-natured that she liked going to the vet. The doctors and assistants almost always commented on what a good patient she was. Even when they put a thermometer up her butt to check her temperature, she would get a funny look on her face ["Oh, that's cold"], but she wouldn't jerk away or move.) With no sign of a continuing cough and her vital signs looking normal, the doctor thought she might have a type of benign, phantom cough that older dogs sometimes get. If the cough returned, he encouraged us to bring her back.
By Tuesday afternoon the cough had returned and seemed to be getting worse, so we scheduled an appointment with the vet for Wednesday morning. We went to bed that night with Murphy in her usual place, right between us with her head resting between our pillows. We never heard her cough all night long.
When my wife woke up, she noticed that Murphy had poo-pooed in the bed. I heard my wife say, "Oh, my baby doesn't feel good" and then she went into the bathroom to get some tissues to clean things up. She patted on Murphy, but Murphy didn't move, and my wife let out a scream.
Murphy's side was against my back, and I turned to look at her face. Her eyes were open, and she seemed OK, so at first I couldn't figure out why my wife was screaming. "She's not moving," she said.
Then I noticed Murphy's tongue was stuck slightly outside her mouth, and blood had come from her mouth and nose. I thought maybe she was choking, so I tried to press on her chest, thinking I could get something dislodged.
When she didn't respond, we frantically put a towel around her and carried her to the car. We drove to an emergency animal clinic that is about five miles from our house. The doctor there was wonderful and kind, but there was nothing she could do. It was January 14, 2004, Murphy's 11th birthday.
Based on the symptoms, the doctor said Murphy probably had died from a heart-related problem. Murphy had been diagnosed with a heart murmur when she was nine years old, but it had sounded mild. The emergency doctor, though, said heart murmurs, with little or no warning, can turn into a more serious valve problem and lead to sudden death. Also, there is a type of tumor that often grows in the heart or spleen and can cause sudden death in dogs. It is called hemangiosarcoma, and Murphy presented with a number of the symptoms.
Heartbroken, we took Murphy to her regular vet, Dr. Bill Christenberry at Caldwell Mill Animal Clinic, where she had an appointment scheduled that morning. We were in a daze, and there was nothing Dr. Christenberry could do, but it seemed like we should go there. When Dr. Christenberry and his colleagues were building their new building a few years earlier, we were one of many people who had bought commemorative bricks to honor our pets. Ours said "Murphy Shuler, God's gift." It just seemed natural to keep our appointment at Caldwell Mill.
The staff at the clinic must deal with death every day, but there was nothing commonplace or routine about the care and kindness they showed toward us. Dr. Christenberry agreed with the emergency vet on the probable causes of death, but explained that we could not know for sure without an autopsy. And he said even that is not always conclusive. We elected not to have an autopsy done, and the staff allowed us all the time we needed to be with Murphy. Dr. Christenberry prayed with us and thanked God for allowing Murphy to come into our lives.
The day we brought her home from Selma, we had taken Murphy to Dr. Christenberry for a checkup before we even took her home. She had been a great patient right from the start, and he knew how much she meant to us.
We elected to have Murphy cremated, and we keep her ashes in a wooden urn in our bedroom.
About a year after Murphy died, we adopted two Siamese cats (or Tonkinese, we're not sure), a brother and sister named Baxter and Chloe. A good friend of my wife's is a cat lover (I think she and her husband have seven cats), and she told us about Baxter and Chloe. They had a good home, in a family with a mom and dad and two children. But the dad developed allergies to the cats, so they needed to find them a good home.
We were happy to have them, and they've proven to be a wonderful blessing. They were about a year old when we got them, and for the first couple of weeks, they spent most of their time under the couch. But they warmed to us pretty quickly. Now we have to be careful when we turn around because one of them is likely to be following right behind us.
Murphy's tail had been docked, so we never had to worry about stepping on her tail. We quickly learned that we had to be careful around the cats and their tails. Also, Murphy was such a physical presence, with the clip clop of her feet on the floor, that you always knew when she was nearby. But the cats are so quiet that they can be right behind you, and you have no idea they are there. We've learned to move carefully.
Unlike Murphy, the cats don't seem to have a clue what we're saying when we talk to them. But they are funny and loving and comforting, in their strange, catlike ways. And we think they've decided that, all in all, they have a pretty good gig.
That's what she came to represent to us. For example, when a particularly good smell finds its way to my nose, I think of Murphy. My wife had the idea of caring for Murphy as mostly an indoor dog (except for our daily walks). I'd thought of having an "indoor-outdoor dog," with the fenced backyard and all of that, but my wife wasn't having it. "I want her to be clean so she can be close to us and be part of the family," she said. That turned out to be a great idea.
If you get a schnauzer bathed and groomed every 6-8 weeks or so, and brush their coats regularly, they have the most wonderful smell. It's like fresh laundry, only better. If heaven has a scent, it must smell something like Murphy's coat.
We think of Murphy every time we see a northern mockingbird, which is so common here in Alabama. With its gray covering, erect bearing, and alert/piercing eyes, the mocker reminds us so much of Murphy. And like Murphy, mockers don't suffer fools, cheaters, or intruders gladly. Ever seen a mocker dive bomb a cat who gets too close to the bird's nest? Like Murphy, northern mockingbirds take security issues seriously.
We find it ironic that readers throughout the world have come to associate the Alabama mockingbird with justice, through Harper Lee's classic To Kill a Mockingbird. To us, Murphy represents justice, too.
In many ways, my wife and I feel we owe our lives to Murphy. She was six years old when this legal nightmare started, and without her, I'm not sure we would have lived through it. She invariably made us laugh several times a day, and that alone did wonders for our mental health. And on the darkest days, she seemed to try extra hard to provide a positive, upbeat presence, one we desperately needed.
(We also owe a huge thank you to our family physician, Dr. Edward Childs of UAB Internal Medicine. I recall reading an article several years ago about the most stressful events that can happen in life. Death of a spouse was No. 1 and death of a child was No. 2. I don't recall the list exactly, but I'm pretty sure dealing with a lawsuit was in the top 10, maybe the top five. I would encourage anyone facing a lawsuit or other highly stressful event, to consult their physician. Modern medicine now has some wonderful treatments for stress, anxiety, and depression.)
Murphy was such a cool older dog. As adorable as she was as a puppy, she was even neater as an adult. When she was eight or nine, her vet gave her a "senior profile," which they do for all dogs of a certain age. We used to joke that they must have meant "senior puppy profile," because Murphy still looked and acted a lot like a puppy. Even her vet said that, if he didn't know better, he would think she was about five years old.
We joked that her favorite athlete must be Joe Namath because he was famous for the quote: "I can't wait till tomorrow because I get better looking every day."
So we were caught completely off guard when Murphy developed a cough on Sunday, January 11, 2004, and didn't show her usual interest in a walk on a cold day. She was always sniffing things on the ground, so we figured she must have gotten something caught in her nose or throat. But when the cough did not get any better, my wife took her to the vet on Monday.
Naturally, Murphy did not cough at the doctor's office. (Murphy was so good-natured that she liked going to the vet. The doctors and assistants almost always commented on what a good patient she was. Even when they put a thermometer up her butt to check her temperature, she would get a funny look on her face ["Oh, that's cold"], but she wouldn't jerk away or move.) With no sign of a continuing cough and her vital signs looking normal, the doctor thought she might have a type of benign, phantom cough that older dogs sometimes get. If the cough returned, he encouraged us to bring her back.
By Tuesday afternoon the cough had returned and seemed to be getting worse, so we scheduled an appointment with the vet for Wednesday morning. We went to bed that night with Murphy in her usual place, right between us with her head resting between our pillows. We never heard her cough all night long.
When my wife woke up, she noticed that Murphy had poo-pooed in the bed. I heard my wife say, "Oh, my baby doesn't feel good" and then she went into the bathroom to get some tissues to clean things up. She patted on Murphy, but Murphy didn't move, and my wife let out a scream.
Murphy's side was against my back, and I turned to look at her face. Her eyes were open, and she seemed OK, so at first I couldn't figure out why my wife was screaming. "She's not moving," she said.
Then I noticed Murphy's tongue was stuck slightly outside her mouth, and blood had come from her mouth and nose. I thought maybe she was choking, so I tried to press on her chest, thinking I could get something dislodged.
When she didn't respond, we frantically put a towel around her and carried her to the car. We drove to an emergency animal clinic that is about five miles from our house. The doctor there was wonderful and kind, but there was nothing she could do. It was January 14, 2004, Murphy's 11th birthday.
Based on the symptoms, the doctor said Murphy probably had died from a heart-related problem. Murphy had been diagnosed with a heart murmur when she was nine years old, but it had sounded mild. The emergency doctor, though, said heart murmurs, with little or no warning, can turn into a more serious valve problem and lead to sudden death. Also, there is a type of tumor that often grows in the heart or spleen and can cause sudden death in dogs. It is called hemangiosarcoma, and Murphy presented with a number of the symptoms.
Heartbroken, we took Murphy to her regular vet, Dr. Bill Christenberry at Caldwell Mill Animal Clinic, where she had an appointment scheduled that morning. We were in a daze, and there was nothing Dr. Christenberry could do, but it seemed like we should go there. When Dr. Christenberry and his colleagues were building their new building a few years earlier, we were one of many people who had bought commemorative bricks to honor our pets. Ours said "Murphy Shuler, God's gift." It just seemed natural to keep our appointment at Caldwell Mill.
The staff at the clinic must deal with death every day, but there was nothing commonplace or routine about the care and kindness they showed toward us. Dr. Christenberry agreed with the emergency vet on the probable causes of death, but explained that we could not know for sure without an autopsy. And he said even that is not always conclusive. We elected not to have an autopsy done, and the staff allowed us all the time we needed to be with Murphy. Dr. Christenberry prayed with us and thanked God for allowing Murphy to come into our lives.
The day we brought her home from Selma, we had taken Murphy to Dr. Christenberry for a checkup before we even took her home. She had been a great patient right from the start, and he knew how much she meant to us.
We elected to have Murphy cremated, and we keep her ashes in a wooden urn in our bedroom.
About a year after Murphy died, we adopted two Siamese cats (or Tonkinese, we're not sure), a brother and sister named Baxter and Chloe. A good friend of my wife's is a cat lover (I think she and her husband have seven cats), and she told us about Baxter and Chloe. They had a good home, in a family with a mom and dad and two children. But the dad developed allergies to the cats, so they needed to find them a good home.
We were happy to have them, and they've proven to be a wonderful blessing. They were about a year old when we got them, and for the first couple of weeks, they spent most of their time under the couch. But they warmed to us pretty quickly. Now we have to be careful when we turn around because one of them is likely to be following right behind us.
Murphy's tail had been docked, so we never had to worry about stepping on her tail. We quickly learned that we had to be careful around the cats and their tails. Also, Murphy was such a physical presence, with the clip clop of her feet on the floor, that you always knew when she was nearby. But the cats are so quiet that they can be right behind you, and you have no idea they are there. We've learned to move carefully.
Unlike Murphy, the cats don't seem to have a clue what we're saying when we talk to them. But they are funny and loving and comforting, in their strange, catlike ways. And we think they've decided that, all in all, they have a pretty good gig.
More on Murphy
A few days before we went to get Murphy, I remember my wife telling me, "Now we'll have to be sure to talk to her a lot. She'll like that."
I laughed that off. As I was growing up, my family had two mixed-breed terriers, "Peanuts" and "Barney." I remember playing with them, walking with them, loving on them. (I even remember picking ticks off of them. What fun!) But I didn't remember talking to them all that much.
We had only had Murphy a few weeks, before I realized that I was talking to her all the time. And she actually seemed to pay attention to what I said. Her eyes would lock on mine, and you could almost hear the wheels spinning in her head as she tried to figure out what was on my mind. We later heard that schnauzers are called "the dog with the human brain." And we could understand why.
Murphy was pretty much a joy from day one. But one problem cropped up early on that caused us considerable angst. Turns out our little girl liked to eat her poop. It's called coprophragia, and it's common among many young animals. But it freaked us out in a major way.
We went to our vet and got a powder to sprinkle on her food that is supposed to make the resulting poop less attractive. That didn't seem to work. We shudder to think about it now, but we actually talked for a few days about trying to find her a new home.
Fortunately, a family member had a cool head. My wife's sister had a little dog who had caused some problems in the early days. "There were times I wanted to flush her down the toilet," she said. "But be patient. This will go away."
We are eternally grateful for my sister-in-law's good sense. Murphy stopped eating her poop after about three weeks. And she soon became the center of our lives.
People often say the best day of their lives was the day they got married or the day their children were born. For us, it was the day we got Murphy.
We don't mean to diss wedding days in general, or ours in particular. And of course, we never would have found Murphy if we hadn't found each other. But the truth is, any marriage, even one that has worked pretty well for almost 18 years, is work. You see each other at your best, but also at your worst--when you're sick, angry, frustrated, afraid, moody. My wife has seen all of that and more from me, so I don't take offense when she says, "The day we got Murphy was the best day of my life." Only shows my wife is honest and has good sense--traits I admire in anyone.
Having Murphy was one of those rarities in life, with almost all ups and no downs. She was never grouchy, never aloof, never unreasonable, never unpleasant, never selfish, never dishonest. She never displayed any of those "charming" traits we so often see in humans. And except for two days, she always seemed to feel great.
I find it interesting that, as a society, our love for pets seems to be increasing at the same time that the amount of courtesy, kindness, and decency is decreasing. I think people cling to their pets because they find traits in them that are becoming increasingly scarce in the human world.
I know that was the case for us. Folks who are familiar with the Bible probably are aware of the fruits of the spirit as described in Galatians 5:22-23--love, joy, goodness, generosity, gentleness, faithfulness. I wasn't consulted on the writing of the Bible, but if I had been, I might have added a few more fruits--honesty, fairness, a sense of justice. Murphy had all of these fruits in ample supply.
I remember the minister at our church giving a wonderful talk to those of us who were preparing to be ushers. "Don't just hand out the bulletins or pass the offering plates," he said. "Look into the face of people. You'll be surprised at how often you find yourself looking into the face of God."
This might sound ridiculous to some people, but when my eyes locked on Murphy's, I felt I was looking into the face of God. No matter how bad life could get, and we were dealing with a number of health concerns and this godawful lawsuit, there always seemed to be a touch of holiness nearby as long as Murphy was around.
I like to think that God has a sense of humor. If that's the case, Murphy certainly spread the good news in her own distinctive way. I never knew a dog could be so funny. We called her our "little court jester." She would often drop both front legs into that classic "play" position that dogs do. Then when she knew she had our attention, she would get up, lower her rump and run from room to room in what we came to call the "scrunch run." It's like she was running in a semi-crouch, and she knew we thought it was hysterical, so she seemed to take special pleasure in doing it.
She also loved to play an indoor version of hide-and-seek. In fact, she taught me how she wanted to play it. I was to toss a tennis ball, and while she chased it, I was to hide in one of about five good hiding spots in our house. You could see her clicking off the hiding spots in her head until she came to the one where I was hiding. Then she would drop to the play position, let out a bark, and run to fetch the ball, ready for another round.
I laughed that off. As I was growing up, my family had two mixed-breed terriers, "Peanuts" and "Barney." I remember playing with them, walking with them, loving on them. (I even remember picking ticks off of them. What fun!) But I didn't remember talking to them all that much.
We had only had Murphy a few weeks, before I realized that I was talking to her all the time. And she actually seemed to pay attention to what I said. Her eyes would lock on mine, and you could almost hear the wheels spinning in her head as she tried to figure out what was on my mind. We later heard that schnauzers are called "the dog with the human brain." And we could understand why.
Murphy was pretty much a joy from day one. But one problem cropped up early on that caused us considerable angst. Turns out our little girl liked to eat her poop. It's called coprophragia, and it's common among many young animals. But it freaked us out in a major way.
We went to our vet and got a powder to sprinkle on her food that is supposed to make the resulting poop less attractive. That didn't seem to work. We shudder to think about it now, but we actually talked for a few days about trying to find her a new home.
Fortunately, a family member had a cool head. My wife's sister had a little dog who had caused some problems in the early days. "There were times I wanted to flush her down the toilet," she said. "But be patient. This will go away."
We are eternally grateful for my sister-in-law's good sense. Murphy stopped eating her poop after about three weeks. And she soon became the center of our lives.
People often say the best day of their lives was the day they got married or the day their children were born. For us, it was the day we got Murphy.
We don't mean to diss wedding days in general, or ours in particular. And of course, we never would have found Murphy if we hadn't found each other. But the truth is, any marriage, even one that has worked pretty well for almost 18 years, is work. You see each other at your best, but also at your worst--when you're sick, angry, frustrated, afraid, moody. My wife has seen all of that and more from me, so I don't take offense when she says, "The day we got Murphy was the best day of my life." Only shows my wife is honest and has good sense--traits I admire in anyone.
Having Murphy was one of those rarities in life, with almost all ups and no downs. She was never grouchy, never aloof, never unreasonable, never unpleasant, never selfish, never dishonest. She never displayed any of those "charming" traits we so often see in humans. And except for two days, she always seemed to feel great.
I find it interesting that, as a society, our love for pets seems to be increasing at the same time that the amount of courtesy, kindness, and decency is decreasing. I think people cling to their pets because they find traits in them that are becoming increasingly scarce in the human world.
I know that was the case for us. Folks who are familiar with the Bible probably are aware of the fruits of the spirit as described in Galatians 5:22-23--love, joy, goodness, generosity, gentleness, faithfulness. I wasn't consulted on the writing of the Bible, but if I had been, I might have added a few more fruits--honesty, fairness, a sense of justice. Murphy had all of these fruits in ample supply.
I remember the minister at our church giving a wonderful talk to those of us who were preparing to be ushers. "Don't just hand out the bulletins or pass the offering plates," he said. "Look into the face of people. You'll be surprised at how often you find yourself looking into the face of God."
This might sound ridiculous to some people, but when my eyes locked on Murphy's, I felt I was looking into the face of God. No matter how bad life could get, and we were dealing with a number of health concerns and this godawful lawsuit, there always seemed to be a touch of holiness nearby as long as Murphy was around.
I like to think that God has a sense of humor. If that's the case, Murphy certainly spread the good news in her own distinctive way. I never knew a dog could be so funny. We called her our "little court jester." She would often drop both front legs into that classic "play" position that dogs do. Then when she knew she had our attention, she would get up, lower her rump and run from room to room in what we came to call the "scrunch run." It's like she was running in a semi-crouch, and she knew we thought it was hysterical, so she seemed to take special pleasure in doing it.
She also loved to play an indoor version of hide-and-seek. In fact, she taught me how she wanted to play it. I was to toss a tennis ball, and while she chased it, I was to hide in one of about five good hiding spots in our house. You could see her clicking off the hiding spots in her head until she came to the one where I was hiding. Then she would drop to the play position, let out a bark, and run to fetch the ball, ready for another round.
As she grew older, it became hard to believe that Murphy had actually been the quiet one of the two female schnauzers we saw. We've often wondered what kind of little pistol that other schnauzer must have turned into.
Schnauzers are known to be "barky," and Murphy certainly could let out a "war whoop" when a jogger or bicyclist came to her attention. (She particularly got fired up about crows. We would often have these huge crows come roam in our yard, doing that funky crow walk of theirs. Murphy would go nuts, and the crows seemed to ignore her completely.) But we managed to keep her barking to a minimum. For one thing, she almost never barked for no apparent reason. She barked because she considered herself "director of security" for our household (a job she took very seriously), and it was her calling to notify us when unfamiliar beings were nearby. Simply closing the blinds usually calmed her down.
Not only did we talk to Murphy all the time, but we wound up singing to her, too. She weighed 18 to 20 pounds, and it was almost solid muscle. We liked to say that she was built like a brick ****house, so naturally, the Commodores "Brick House" became one of her signature tunes.
As natives of the Bavaria region in Germany, schnauzers love cold weather. On steamy summer days in Alabama, Murphy wouldn't mind cutting her walks short. But on a cold, wintry night, we almost had to drag her back inside. Our joke was that she could "walk 500 miles," so the old Proclaimers tune, "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)," became another signature tune for the Murph. For nostalgia's sake, you can listen to the song here.
Let's see, what other songs were there? One was "We All Live With a Little Gray Schnauzer," to the tune of the Beatles' "Yellow Submarine." And there was one to the Bee Gees "Lonely Days" ("Lonely days, lonely nights, where would I be without my schnauzer?")
Everybody likes to think their dog is smart. But we truly were amazed by Murphy's vocabulary. Lunch was one word she picked up on real fast. We started spelling it, l-u-n-c-h, and darn if she didn't figure that out, too.
One of her favorite activities was going with us to the Sonic drive-in for supper. We would gather up a bag of paper plates, napkins etc., and Murphy quickly learned that meant she was going with us to Sonic. She would start getting so excited, so early, that we decided to spell that, too--S-o-n-i-c. Naturally, she learned that spelling, too.
We wouldn't feed her human food, but she seemed totally at peace in her taxi in the backseat as we chowed down on Supersonic cheeseburger combos (not recommended by your cardiologist). Our nearest Sonic tends to play songs from the 50s and 60s while you eat in your car, stuff by Elvis, the Beatles, Chuck Berry, Herman's Hermits, the Beach Boys, Johnny Rivers, the Dave Clark Five. Murphy seemed to really dig those classic tunes. We decided she had an old soul, the best kind.
For some reason, we developed this "conservative" political persona for Murphy. I guess it was because of that serious look schnauzers tend to have on their faces. And maybe, since my wife and I are moderate/liberals, we figured we needed to balance things out by making Murphy a "conservative." Our joke was that "Bullet" Bob Dornan, the former firebrand congressman from California, was the only politician who was conservative enough for Murphy's taste. And I often told her that, with her distinctive schnauzer beard, she looked like that great Republican president Rutherford B. Hayes. ("Just the thing every girl wants to hear, daddy," she would say.) Maybe we just wanted to believe it's possible for a conservative to be loving and funny. Maybe that's why we gave Murphy her "conservative" persona. But given how the conservative train has gone off the tracks under our current administration, we hope Murphy will forgive us for ever labeling her a conservative--even as a joke. She was much too smart to fall for the modern-day conservative agenda.
One of our fondest memories of Murphy was the night when she was a few months old and decided it was time for her to be a "big girl." She had been sleeping in her pet taxi, with a towel draped over it, in our bedroom. The towel seemed to keep her in a peaceful state, but one night at about 3 a.m., she let out a series of barks. It was her way of announcing that she was ready to sleep with the "grown ups."
We picked her up and placed her in our bed to see what she would do. She started "snurting" around, lifting up the covers with her snout. Then she decided to dig around for a while, as if there was something buried in our mattress that she desperately needed to uncover. (We called this "digging to China," and she always did it at bedtime.)
Once she was convinced that everything was in order, she curled up between us and went right to sleep. She slept between us every night for the rest of her life.
Why Legal Schnauzer?
Like many of you, my wife and I grew up in families with animals. We both had several dogs and cats growing up, and my family even had various chickens, ducks, and a turtle or two.
So after we had been married two or three years, we decided to get a dog. We both had mixed breeds growing up, and we love a wonderful "mutt." But for some reason, we were driven to get a pure bred dog. We were both partial to small dogs, particularly in the terrier group. So that's where we began to look.
My wife has long had a fascination with Scotland, and she was interested in a Scottish terrier. But while flipping through a dog book one day, she came across the entry for miniature schnauzers. It said the schnauzer is a hardy, active, playful dog that tends to get along well with people of all ages and other pets. It generally is an indoor dog, but loves to take one or two nice walks a day. The schnauzer's wiry coat does require grooming every six to eight weeks, but it does not shed, making it an ideal dog for people with allergies (like my wife). All in all, the book said, "the miniature schnauzer is a great little character in the world of dogs."
We were sold. But as luck would have it, we were at a pet store one night when a young couple walked in with a schnauzer puppy. They let us pet him, and we were smitten even more.
My wife talked to several breeders over the phone and particularly liked a woman who lived near Selma. The woman seemed to genuinely care about her dogs, and she had two female salt-and-pepper schnauzers, which is what we were looking for. (Schnauzers also come in black, silver, and I think white.) The woman said one of the females was quiet and calm, while the other was more rambunctious.
We set off for Selma one March day in 1993. We had already picked out a name. The Dan Quayle/Murphy Brown/"family values" debate was going on about that time. We thought Dan Quayle was, for lack of a better term, a douche bag. And the notion of a Republican trying to claim some high ground on family values was, to us, laughable. So we sided with Murphy Brown, and we liked her feistiness and honesty.
We decided to name our dog Murphy. For a middle name, we chose Abigail. "Murphy Abigail Shuler." Had a nice ring, we thought.
The woman's home actually was about 15 to 20 miles south of Selma in the heart of Alabama's Black Belt. I recall a sign by the road that said Sardis, so I'm assuming that was the nearest town, although I never saw any indication that Sardis actually exists.
My wife had pictured the woman living in a neat white farmhouse, with pristine conditions all around. It wasn't quite that way. Many areas of Alabama are prospering, but "sub-Selma" is not one of them. Dallas, Wilcox, and surrounding counties make up one of the poorest areas in the state--and the country.
It turns out that Murphy and her littermates were born outside a trailer at the end of a dirt road. No white farmhouse was in sight, but the woman did seem to care for her dogs, and they all looked healthy and happy.
As advertised, one of the females was relatively quiet and the other was a spitfire. We wish we could have taken both of them home. But somehow, the quiet one particularly grabbed our hearts. She sat in the palm of our hands and immediately seemed to feel at home. I had never seen a schnauzer at such a young age and was surprised how much she looked like a raccoon.
As we held the quiet one, we noticed a couple of fleas on her, and that freaked my wife out. We talked for a while, and I told my wife this dog was everything we were looking for. We could give her a bath, get rid of the fleas, and she would be fine. Besides, I knew if we got back to Birmingham without this little dog, my wife would immediately want to turn around and head back to Selma to get her.
We paid the woman $150, got the papers, put Murphy in a pet taxi in the backseat of our car, and headed back to Birmingham. We stopped a couple of times to give Murphy a drink, let her walk around and do her "business." Then she was content to go back in her taxi. She never made a peep on the way to her new home.
So after we had been married two or three years, we decided to get a dog. We both had mixed breeds growing up, and we love a wonderful "mutt." But for some reason, we were driven to get a pure bred dog. We were both partial to small dogs, particularly in the terrier group. So that's where we began to look.
My wife has long had a fascination with Scotland, and she was interested in a Scottish terrier. But while flipping through a dog book one day, she came across the entry for miniature schnauzers. It said the schnauzer is a hardy, active, playful dog that tends to get along well with people of all ages and other pets. It generally is an indoor dog, but loves to take one or two nice walks a day. The schnauzer's wiry coat does require grooming every six to eight weeks, but it does not shed, making it an ideal dog for people with allergies (like my wife). All in all, the book said, "the miniature schnauzer is a great little character in the world of dogs."
We were sold. But as luck would have it, we were at a pet store one night when a young couple walked in with a schnauzer puppy. They let us pet him, and we were smitten even more.
My wife talked to several breeders over the phone and particularly liked a woman who lived near Selma. The woman seemed to genuinely care about her dogs, and she had two female salt-and-pepper schnauzers, which is what we were looking for. (Schnauzers also come in black, silver, and I think white.) The woman said one of the females was quiet and calm, while the other was more rambunctious.
We set off for Selma one March day in 1993. We had already picked out a name. The Dan Quayle/Murphy Brown/"family values" debate was going on about that time. We thought Dan Quayle was, for lack of a better term, a douche bag. And the notion of a Republican trying to claim some high ground on family values was, to us, laughable. So we sided with Murphy Brown, and we liked her feistiness and honesty.
We decided to name our dog Murphy. For a middle name, we chose Abigail. "Murphy Abigail Shuler." Had a nice ring, we thought.
The woman's home actually was about 15 to 20 miles south of Selma in the heart of Alabama's Black Belt. I recall a sign by the road that said Sardis, so I'm assuming that was the nearest town, although I never saw any indication that Sardis actually exists.
My wife had pictured the woman living in a neat white farmhouse, with pristine conditions all around. It wasn't quite that way. Many areas of Alabama are prospering, but "sub-Selma" is not one of them. Dallas, Wilcox, and surrounding counties make up one of the poorest areas in the state--and the country.
It turns out that Murphy and her littermates were born outside a trailer at the end of a dirt road. No white farmhouse was in sight, but the woman did seem to care for her dogs, and they all looked healthy and happy.
As advertised, one of the females was relatively quiet and the other was a spitfire. We wish we could have taken both of them home. But somehow, the quiet one particularly grabbed our hearts. She sat in the palm of our hands and immediately seemed to feel at home. I had never seen a schnauzer at such a young age and was surprised how much she looked like a raccoon.
As we held the quiet one, we noticed a couple of fleas on her, and that freaked my wife out. We talked for a while, and I told my wife this dog was everything we were looking for. We could give her a bath, get rid of the fleas, and she would be fine. Besides, I knew if we got back to Birmingham without this little dog, my wife would immediately want to turn around and head back to Selma to get her.
We paid the woman $150, got the papers, put Murphy in a pet taxi in the backseat of our car, and headed back to Birmingham. We stopped a couple of times to give Murphy a drink, let her walk around and do her "business." Then she was content to go back in her taxi. She never made a peep on the way to her new home.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Thanks to Our Aussie Friends
Wanted to take a break from legal intrigue to focus on a more pleasant, and personal, subject.
I thought readers might be interested in the story behind the title of this blog.
As you might have guessed, my wife and I are big fans of dogs, cats, and other critters in general--and miniature schnauzers in particular. In fact, this blog is dedicated to the memory of a miniature schnauzer who enriched our lives in profound ways.
I'll tell you about her in a moment. But first, it's not often here at Legal Schnauzer that we get to give an international shout out. One is due to the fine folks at Valley View Dog Breeders of Gippsland, Victoria, Australia.
Our cover schnauzer, "Gumpie-Poo," is one of Valley View's dogs. (I wonder if she barks with an Aussie accent; I'm assuming she's a 'she'; don't see any 'equipment' in the photo.)
When I was planning this blog, I searched a number of image sites on the Web, and found many wonderful shots of miniature schnauzers. But my wife and I fell in love with the photo of Gumpie-Poo.
To us, the photo captures so much that is wonderful about schnauzers (and many dogs). Gumpie-Poo is playful, vibrant, happy, and a little bit of a showboat (in the best kind of way). You can almost see her thinking, "Gee, these people seem to love it when I jump over this thing. So I'm going to do it again and again."
A number of writers have described the schnauzer's playful spirit. One called them "little court jesters." That fits perfectly.
Anyway, the folks at Valley View were kind enough to grant us permission to use Gumpie-Poo's photo. So thank you, mates.
And yes, there is one other reason we adore the picture of Gumpie-Poo. She looks an awful lot like our precious girl.
I thought readers might be interested in the story behind the title of this blog.
As you might have guessed, my wife and I are big fans of dogs, cats, and other critters in general--and miniature schnauzers in particular. In fact, this blog is dedicated to the memory of a miniature schnauzer who enriched our lives in profound ways.
I'll tell you about her in a moment. But first, it's not often here at Legal Schnauzer that we get to give an international shout out. One is due to the fine folks at Valley View Dog Breeders of Gippsland, Victoria, Australia.
Our cover schnauzer, "Gumpie-Poo," is one of Valley View's dogs. (I wonder if she barks with an Aussie accent; I'm assuming she's a 'she'; don't see any 'equipment' in the photo.)
When I was planning this blog, I searched a number of image sites on the Web, and found many wonderful shots of miniature schnauzers. But my wife and I fell in love with the photo of Gumpie-Poo.
To us, the photo captures so much that is wonderful about schnauzers (and many dogs). Gumpie-Poo is playful, vibrant, happy, and a little bit of a showboat (in the best kind of way). You can almost see her thinking, "Gee, these people seem to love it when I jump over this thing. So I'm going to do it again and again."
A number of writers have described the schnauzer's playful spirit. One called them "little court jesters." That fits perfectly.
Anyway, the folks at Valley View were kind enough to grant us permission to use Gumpie-Poo's photo. So thank you, mates.
And yes, there is one other reason we adore the picture of Gumpie-Poo. She looks an awful lot like our precious girl.
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